Open PAFP Camp every child was their own 𓆣 nursery visit

[CICADABUZZ]

CICADABUZZ, 32 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to cloudberrypaw, hemlockpaw, mistletoepaw ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz steps into the nursery with the unhurried, steady tread of one who belongs to quiet places. The den is warmer than the rest of camp, its air rich with milk and moss, the faint breath of tiny bodies shifting in their nests. Their eyes adjust quickly to the softer light, the dappling of sun through the walls and feathers pressed into bedding. It is not Jadethorn they seek first; instead, their gaze slips past the queen and lands on the bundle of six small pelts, all twitching paws and drowsy sounds. They move closer, crouching low, and their tail brushes the ground in a slow rhythm, leaves woven into its fur rustling faintly. Cicadabuzz noses at the first kit, brushing their muzzle along the tiny body to check warmth and breathing. A faint rumble leaves them, not quite purr, not quite sigh, as they listen. Healthy. Strong.

The second kit is stretched out on its back, tiny ribs rising and falling with a rhythm Cicadabuzz counts against their own heartbeat. They press a paw gently against the kit's flank, feeling the soft give of a full belly. No hollow cries, no wheeze. They move on. The third squirms as they approach, letting out a squeak of protest as if aware of the scrutiny. Cicadabuzz leans close, ears twitching forward, as they listen to the strong breaths that allow the clear squeak. They do not smile, but the quiet approval is there, woven into the flat tone.

Fourth and fifth are curled together, pelts mingling. Cicadabuzz bends to part them, careful not to wake more than necessary. They check paws, ears, the thin skin around eyes not yet fully open. They trace lightly along each spine, noting alignment, strength, the thrum of life beneath. They eventually reach the smallest. Cicadabuzz lingers longest here. Their paw is careful as it presses firmly to the kit, listening for any flutter that might betray weakness. When the sound of the heart proves steady, they nod to themself, withdrawing their paw. Only then do their eyes flick toward Jadethorn. They straighten, their voice low and even. "The kits are healthy." They don't comment on the fact that she withdrew from camp to have them, seeing no reason to give voice to her avoidance of them.

@Jadethorn

 

[Jadethorn]

There's only two types of people in the world

The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe

​

Warmth. Tender, sore muscles. The prick of tiny teeth and claws. The incessant voice of her new denmate. It all muddled. Days began to blend together. The same visitors. The same questions. 'How are they? Are they healthy? Are they eating well?' The more and more she was asked those things, the more the queen wanted to snap at the intruders. The answer was always the same. 'They're fine. They're strong.' It wasn't like the answer would change within a day. So why bother her about it constantly? Jadethorn would much rather hear about the going ons of the outside. The drama between clans. The tension with this new 'code', dragged into the forest by that blood drenched Skyclan. Yet, even that has felt dry and bland. No words on brawls happening at the scent lines. No new juicy emotions seen between even her own clanmates. It was like the world was sucked dry of it's entertainment, right when she was desperate for words of action to live vicariously through.

Today seemed to be no different. Warm rays trickling through the coverage to dapple across her spotted coat. The light shuttered for a brief moment, snuffed out by the movement of another beyond the wall, before it flashed back across a closed lid. A sliver of toxin peeked through a narrowed eye, constricted pupils following the shape as it stepped into the den. The winged pattern across their pelt, and scent of herbs was as telltale as the black voids of their eyes. The twitch of an ear. The curling of a tail tightening around small bodies. The rumbling that itched at the back of a throat. All signs. All warnings to the witch doctor. She had heard rumors. Stories from a companion about poisons and indifference. Yet... paws did not move. Her head did not stir from where it was tucked.

But that toxic gem of an eye followed. Every step, every sniff, every touch made was watched. Anytime a paw came to press against to small of fluff, unseen claws flexed into the nest underneath her yet, still, she did not stir. The queen allowed the inspections knowing full well that, if the witch doctor would try anything, whether it be with herb or berry, she would tear one of it's giant ears right off. Their blood would be the first to coat her precious stones and she would not regret it one bit. Yet, as quick as those thoughts seemed to pass along her synapsies, the careful touches were pulled back as the bug's attention was now drawn to the molly herself. It was then that Jadethorn would raise her head, blinking both eyes open and swiveling her ears to prick forward.

'The kits are healthy.' A fact, this time, instead of the constant inquiries she was used to receiving. A surprisingly positive interaction so far. Fresh. New, in terms of vocal stimulation and presence. The cicada had not visited until now, after all. A huff of breath escaped into the warm air, the smallest of a smirk crinkling the corner of her maw. "Of course they are. They follow after me. Beautiful stones that'll shine through this muck of a territory." A paw was gently placed against one of her kits, the smallest of purrs escaping between her teeth. "They'll be perfect. Better than their dirt sniffing clanmates." A swish of her tail across the six bodies by her side before her gaze once again lands on the bug in front. "So, is this just a medicine visit or do you have any interesting news to help satiate my boredom?" Honestly, Cicadabuzz was the last she expected to spill details of the ongoings of clans but the molly was practically desperate for the gossip of the outside world.
​

OOC ✧❦✧ Basic Info

• ooc
  —— xxx
  
• 
  string of lyrics / lengty or short quote goes

  here

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• Jadethorn she/her
  ❖ An Average Sized Black Rosette Tabby with Low White and Green Eyes
  ❖ Night Guard of Shadowclan
  ❖ 36 moons; ages on the 8th of every month
  ❖ speech thought attack
  ❖ peaceful + healing powerplay permitted
  
  penned by Taru​

​

 

[cloudberrypaw]

Motherhood is not befitting of a moggy like Cloudberrypaw. Factually, her body can hardly keep up with itself, let alone birth several more lives into the world. Emotionally - well, even standing near the nursery overwhelms her in a supernatural way. Pangs of unsatiated hunger, swaths of discomfort, grimaces of annoyance - everything that fluttered between the ears of kit or caretaker made home within the wraithlike moggy's heart. Even the warmth and happiness, though they are far outshined by anything else. Suffice it to say, the life of a parent is far from one it wants.

She is instructed by her mentor to feed the nursery. Cloudberrypaw isn't sure if this is a bid to ensure she has respect for those raising the next generation, or rather an errand for his duties as a father. It matters little to her compared to the amount of preparation she needs to break through the nursery altogether. It takes an unnecessarily deep breath, almost comical to anyone watching from the outside, and a pawful of exceedingly long strides. Before long, she finds the nest of Jadethorn and her cluster and drops half of a crow by her paws (the rest already eaten by the lucky warrior who caught it.) She offers no such explanation, turning on her paws to leave...

... only to be stopped by Cicadabuzz. It grimaces with it's own distaste, and only then does it allow the entirety of the nursery flood it's mind and heart. Immediately she is spiked with imbalance and bites the inside of her cheek to hold it in. The medicine cat conveys that the kits are healthy and Jadethorn, as haughty as she normally is, purrs her response. Cloudberrypaw tries to meander around its parent, ears flat to its head - bug, however, does not care if bug is in the way. Their duty and purpose matter most of all. And so, while the two discuss new matters, Cloudberrypaw prods Cicadabuzz with a thin padded paw, "Could you move over?" So she doesn't trample someone else's nest while she leaves in the least.

 

[Magpiepaw]

& I don't know what's got its TEETH in me

The nursery is his least favorite den in the camp, milk scent bitter and memories moreso; he can only recall his mother when he is near it - even if it is Timberfrost he settled against longer in his kitten days before being taken under Cicadabuzz's translucent and veined wing.
Dirt sniffing clanmates. "You trudge through the same muck, your paws are no cleaner than another's, your fleas bite just as hard.." Though his words were meant with disdain his tone did not pitch higher or lower from his usual neutral purr, the apprentice's violet-tinted gaze narrowing briefly from where he stood stalwart at Cicadabuzz's side. Kittens were, frankly, hideous things. Small, scrunched up, loud and needy; one might say he once was such a thing and should be more compassionate to them but he didn't like the worming and wriggling little scraps of fur and he didn't like the idea of part of his duties involving tending to them. For now he was merely observing his mentor work, hesitant to offer a paw unless demanded. Cloudberrypaw was already in the den well before they arrived, shuffling outward and blocked by copper and black figures as she attempted to relocate; he ignores her question because it is not his body in the direct path to the exit but bugs instead. Jadethorn's brood are a patchwork of colors, spotted and rust, they would struggle to blend in as she did - the dappling of the tree branches overhead could only cover so much. Magpiepaw shifts his paws as he scoots to the side, in the case that Cicadabuzz allowed Cloudberrypaw out they could stand closer to him.

Ooc- ooc info here.

I dream in phosphorescence - Bleed through spaces

MAGPIEPAW

— medicine cat apprentice of shadowclan
— He/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Solid black w/low white & blue-violet eyes.
— Has 'wobbly cat' syndrome.
#9272ee

 

[CICADABUZZ]

CICADABUZZ, 34 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to cloudberrypaw, hemlockpaw, mistletoepaw ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not flinch at Jadethorn's smirk, nor at the sharpened edge beneath her words. They have heard it all before—vanity, disdain, pride dressed in glittering language. Their ears tilt forward, attentive, though their expression remains still. Their gaze flicks over the queen once more, a clinical sweep that takes in the subtle tension in her shoulders, the faint narrowing of her eyes, the guarded curl of her tail. Beneath the smug words lies a readiness, a coil of suspicion that never quite loosens. "You call them stones," Cicadabuzz replies, voice even and flat, "but even stone can crack if not cared for properly." Their tail moves in its slow, deliberate rhythm against the ground, leaves brushing faintly with each sweep. "Strength is not inherited whole. It is tended. Shaped. Or it breaks before it can harden." They do not linger on the thought, only allow it to settle like dust in the warm air between them.

At the queen's question for gossip, they give the smallest shake of their head. "The forest is quiet. Too quiet, perhaps. Tension hums at the edges, but no spark has caught flame yet. If you crave spectacle, you will be left hungry for a while longer." Their eyes narrow slightly, black voids glinting with faint reflection of the filtered sunlight. "That is not a bad thing. Peace feeds your kits better than war." Magpiepaw's disdain cuts through the air next, the sharpness of his tone a contrast to his carefully neutral mask. Cicadabuzz does not rebuke him; they rarely do, unless his words stray into danger. Instead, they shift their gaze toward him, letting silence do its work. A lesson in restraint more than correction. Cloudberrypaw's paw prods their side, and Cicadabuzz glances down, blinking slowly before stepping just enough aside for her to pass. Their body remains a barrier for a moment longer, deliberate, before yielding to her request. A reminder that her impatience has no sway here.

Finally, they turn back to Jadethorn. "Your boredom is not my concern," they say, blunt as stone. "My duty is health. Theirs and yours." Their gaze sweeps across the nest once more, catching on each tiny body as if to anchor their words. "Better to know early if their life is destined to be a short one. You are fortunate that such is not the case." Without flourish, Cicadabuzz settles onto their haunches, tail curling around their paws, prepared to linger in the quiet warmth until they are certain no symptom rests beneath the queen's bravado.