Private Camp explain it again to me [cicada]

[WOLFPACK]

AND I AM SORRY MY CONSCIENCE CALLED IN SICK AGAIN​

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OOC– Takes place the night of the meeting @cicadabuzz

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It was dark out, but still early enough for Wolfpack to justify it when he appeared in the mouth of the medicine cats den that evening. There were fewer cats around to spy him there, to make note of how out of place his large figure was standing in the doorway of Cicadabuzz's den, but he didn't really care if he was seen. There was no law that said he couldn't seek their healer out, and even if it were, Wolfpack was rarely the sort to respect a law that couldn't be physically enforced upon him.

Besides. He didn't trust Sablestar to give him an answer worth listening too. The tom would likely just glare at him and reiterate that he was leader and meant to be obeyed, and quite frankly Wolfpack knew he'd be tempted to test out that 'nine lives' theory if he had to listen to another spiel like that again. At least Cicadabuzz would give him real answers– or so he suspected. He didn't seem like the kind of cat who would let emotions dictate their movements, and Wolf could appreciate that.

The den was empty of patients, leaving mismatched eyes to find the other easily enough as they worked away over their herbs. For a moment, Wolfpack simply watched them, deft paws working with more understanding of the dried leaves and sprigs than he would ever understand. He wondered if the faint smell of sweetness beneath the sterile and bitter was remnant of sweet sedge.

"You didn't object to Sablestar assigning you Magpiekit today." he observed, even toned and sharp-eyed. "You don't think that's a mistake. Why?"

He had no doubt that the cat would have flat out said 'no' if they didn't want the apprentice, but that didn't change the mottled tomcats mind about any of his concerns. If Cicada had a reason for choosing some half-clan brat over a loyal shadowclanner, then he wanted to hear it.

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shadowclan deputy - male - a large, monochrome chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars​

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[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not pause their work when Wolfpack speaks. Their paws continue their careful sorting, claws pinching off excess stems, setting aside the brittle leaves that will be of no use. The scent of drying herbs thickens in the air as they shift a bundle of thyme aside, making room for a new arrangement. For a few heartbeats, the only response is the soft rustling of their movements. Then, without looking up, they say, "I did not object because I was the one who asked for him." Their tone is level, unhurried, as if discussing the weather rather than justifying their own choice. Cicadabuzz does not entertain unnecessary conversations, nor do they cater to emotions when logic is enough. Wolfpack's presence does not unnerve them, nor does his sharp-eyed scrutiny. Let him stare. It does not change the truth of their decision.

They take another dried stem between their claws, stripping it of its fragile leaves with practiced ease. "If you're expecting regret or uncertainty, you will not find it here." They flick an ear, finally lifting their gaze to meet his. Their amber eyes are steady, unreadable in their depths. "You assume he is a mistake. Why?" The question is not challenging, nor defensive. It is an invitation, a test. Cicadabuzz is not here to placate. If Wolfpack has concerns, he will need to voice them plainly.

They set aside the herbs, shifting their weight as they settle more comfortably into their nest of moss and woven reeds. Their tail, still faintly adorned with the remnants of dried flowers from earlier in the day, curls neatly over their paws. "He is young. Untrained. Half-Clan, yes. But none of these things make him unworthy. Only incapable mentors and unwilling paws make an apprentice fail." A pause. They consider Wolfpack, not with challenge, but with the same distant patience they give to all things—storm clouds gathering on the horizon, the slow decay of a fallen leaf, the inevitable passage of time. "I do not take on burdens. Magpiepaw is not one. He is mine to teach, and he will learn." Their head tilts slightly, as if tasting the weight of their own words before continuing. "ShadowClan does not have the luxury of rejecting skill before it has a chance to grow. If you are here to tell me otherwise, you waste your breath." Cicadabuzz does not look away as they speak.

 

[WOLFPACK]

AND I AM SORRY MY CONSCIENCE CALLED IN SICK AGAIN​

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To say he wasn't surprised at the healers revelation would be a lie– while Wolf had suspected they had their reasons for allowing it to happen, the chimera hadn't thought for a second that they'd gone so far as to ask for the child themselves. It was disarming, dampening the embers of disapproval and leaving only confusion in it's wake. He could understand Sable wanting his children to have roles of important within Shadowclan– it was just another way for the tom to flaunt his ego. But Cicadabuzz?

"If you're expecting regret or uncertainty, you will not find it here."

"The only thing I expect from you is the truth." Wolf admitted, making his way farther inside to join the healer. "Sablestar speaks to me as the spirits speak to you– in riddles and circles. Only saying what will benefit him most"

I don't trust him to give me a straight answer. he thought to himself, the words going unspoken but still finding a way to ring clear between them.

There was nothing threatening about brute as he drew nearer to watch the point work- no hostility in his tone or aggression in his stance. Muscles sat relaxed beneath a mud-streaked coat, and while his mismatched gaze still relayed his annoyance at the situation, it wasn't targeted at Cicada themselves.

"You assume he is a mistake. Why?"

Cicadabuzz stopped their sorting then, setting things aside and settling in more comfortably as round, black eyes fixated on him as last. Never with the same emotions that he would see on Marbleshine or the others, but with something colder and far more clinical– something far easier for Wolf to understand.

"ShadowClan does not have the luxury of rejecting skill before it has a chance to grow. If you are here to tell me otherwise, you waste your breath."

He wasn't there to tell Cicada anything, and if they thought otherwise then they'd severely misjudged Wolfs intelligence. From their first meeting he'd gotten the solid impression that there wasn't much you could make the other cat think or do if they weren't on board with it-- which was exactly why he'd come to them with these questions instead of their leader. Because there had to be a reason why they'd let it happen.

"His skill and what it can become isn't what concerns me. I've made peace with the fact that they're here and as far as i'm concerned they should be pulling their weight like any other apprentice is." Give them a mentor. Let them hone those skills and put them to work for Shadowclan, by all means. But the healer position? Something so important to their clans survival?

"What does concern me, is the fact that they have kin in another clan, and that their attempt to keep up relationships on both sides of the borders could end up hurting us in the long run." It wasn't a creative or even extravagant answer, but it was the truth he'd been struggling with. Plain and simple.

"I also worry that nobody's considered how Magpiepaw is going to handle having a foot in both worlds. he stated. "What happens if an emergency hits and they're away visiting kin? Or if tensions start to rise again and they're forced to pick a side for good? It's all fine and good with you here to pick up the slack, but you won't always be around, Cicadabuzz."

What would happen next spring, if Cicada got snatched up by a fox and Magpie was all their clan had left? How could Wolfpack trust them to take care of the injured and sick when they had obligations to other cats in other clans?

"I don't distrust your judgment, I just don't understand it."

Cats were hard to understand sometimes, particularly when they were driven by emotions and experiences that Wolfpack could not relate to. Cicadabuzz was less of a problem in that way. They're were more clinical than that, aloof in way that was likely off-putting for others, but that Wolfpack somehow found steadying.

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shadowclan deputy - male - a large, monochrome chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars​

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[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 29 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz listens. Not with pricked ears or widened eyes, but with stillness—the kind of attention only the truly present can give. Their body remains composed, breathing slow, spine straight but relaxed. They do not interrupt as Wolfpack speaks. They do not glance away or react, even when the chimera's words edge toward fear. Concern, in any other voice. Doubt, in a softer mouth. But in Wolfpack's, it is laid bare, like bones stripped clean—a refusal to dance around the truth. When he finishes, there is another silence, but this one is not dismissive. It is weighty, as though Cicadabuzz is allowing the words to settle before disturbing the air again. "I do not mistake your questions for a challenge," Cicadabuzz says at last, their voice calm, even. "You are not here to argue. You are here because you are trying to make sense of what you fear may not be sensible." A pause, their gaze narrowing slightly—not in suspicion, but in thought. "That is sensible in and of itself."

They lower their eyes once more to the herbs, but do not resume their work. Not yet. "You seem to believe kinship makes a cat compromised. That if the choice comes between blood and Clan, blood will win." Cicadabuzz shifts their weight forward, tone still low, still quiet. "That is a fear born of experience, not paranoia. I understand it." They lean down to sort the dried stems of borage into a woven leaf wrap, but their words continue with the same clarity. "But I ask you—if you believe Magpiepaw might choose another over us in a time of crisis, then what future do we offer him that could ever make us worth choosing?" Their head lifts again, fixing Wolfpack with a level stare. There is no softness there, but neither is there scorn. It is simply the stare of one who sees things for what they are. "You worry about the day I am not here. That is wise. But understand this—I do not train Magpiepaw to replace me. I train him to be better than me."

Their voice does not rise, but it deepens, takes on weight like stone dropped into water. "His kin across the border do not define him. His birth was not his choice. But his path—this path—is. He chose it. I accepted him, not as a favor to Sablestar, nor because I am desperate for an apprentice. I chose him because he listens. He watches. He asks questions before he acts." A beat passes, and then their head tilts again, contemplative. "If you fear he may one day fail us, then help ensure he does not. Teach him what loyalty looks like in action. Show him the cost of abandoning ShadowClan, not with threats—but with living proof that this place is worth staying for." They rise to their paws at last, brushing scattered fragments of herb aside with a flick of their tail. The dried flowers tucked into it whisper faintly against the ground.

"I do not fear the day I die," Cicadabuzz says, voice soft now, nearly a murmur. "But I prepare for it, every day. In every lesson I give him. If he falters, it will not be for lack of effort on my part. And if you see a crack I have missed, then tell me. Fix it. That is what it means to serve the Clan."