oleanderkit
and at once i knew.. i was not magnificent
In the dim of evening, with the chatter of warriors at his back, Oleanderkit sits at the mouth of the medicine cat's den, waiting until the den is quiet. Not empty - it almost never is, with how volatile the world was towards his Clan - but quiet in a way that meant no one was looking at him; no one was perceiving him. Silent as ever, the kitten perches and stares at the long shadow he casts upon the den, blotting out the sun. Through it, he observes his own demeaner, and criticizes. Silent. Unwavering. Strong.
The kitten counts his breaths until the pounding of his heart dulls into a faint, occasional thump - then, he steps forward. Tucked in some lonely corner of the den, Cicada lies where bug always does now with its head tucked in moss and cobweb. The sharp, green scent of crushed herbs does not waft anymore - it blends into their scent subtly, just as it did before. A faint flutter awakens in Oleanderkit's chest, but he swiftly shuts the inkling of hope down. Their last talk had been fruitless - the insect-like feline had declared itself better than before, but still gazed at him with empty, meaningless eyes. Oleanderkit's ears train on the body whose flank rises and falls with each steady breath.
That means they are still here. That must count for something, at least.
"So you have," the creature says after a moment, with a voice scratchy as thorns but not at all as sharp. It's steady enough, tired just like last time. Not at all unkind, but perhaps a little.. uncertain. Slowly, Cicada cranes its head to look his way and - despite the nervous pangs in his soul - Oleanderkit moves closer. The inspection of his sire's eyes is not as searching as it once was - just like last time, it is not empty nor full. It simply just is. Steady, tolerant, a tad bored.
Oleanderkit holds his breath, waiting for any hint of recognition, but instead of a greeting, a silence falls between them. What may be comfortable, perhaps even desired, for Cicada feels contrarily eerie and uncomfortable to the boy.
The lack of acknowledgement doesn't hurt the way Oleanderkit's expects it to. The way it used to. They don't weigh on his heart; they simply settle, heavy and dull, like a stone sinking into still water.
And so, Oleanderkit stands, then leans forward just enough to nudge a wad of water-soaked moss towards the healing feline.
Outside, a setting sun casts a bright ray upon a camp bustling with evening noise. Cats who know where they belong share tongues with their loved ones, reminiscing about their day. Oleanderkit passes through it without stopping, ears perked and eyes steady as he returns back to Wisteriastrike and his siblings. That night, he settles into bed without no more than a 'goodnight'. The next day, he talks less.
Over time, he had learned to keep his steps light, his voice even. He had become very good at being easy to forget. Perhaps life's tragedies will hurt less that way.
The kitten counts his breaths until the pounding of his heart dulls into a faint, occasional thump - then, he steps forward. Tucked in some lonely corner of the den, Cicada lies where bug always does now with its head tucked in moss and cobweb. The sharp, green scent of crushed herbs does not waft anymore - it blends into their scent subtly, just as it did before. A faint flutter awakens in Oleanderkit's chest, but he swiftly shuts the inkling of hope down. Their last talk had been fruitless - the insect-like feline had declared itself better than before, but still gazed at him with empty, meaningless eyes. Oleanderkit's ears train on the body whose flank rises and falls with each steady breath.
That means they are still here. That must count for something, at least.
"I came to visit,"
Oleanderkit speaks, breaking the silence. He knows Cicada is awake - like they said, he always watched too closely. The voice that comes out is carefully bright, practiced and manufactured in a way that sounds foreign to his own ears. It was best not to be too loud, as he was scolded for in the past; but better not to sound too worried. Perhaps one day, he could find the perfect in-between, and never go overboard with emotion. Never again, anyway."So you have," the creature says after a moment, with a voice scratchy as thorns but not at all as sharp. It's steady enough, tired just like last time. Not at all unkind, but perhaps a little.. uncertain. Slowly, Cicada cranes its head to look his way and - despite the nervous pangs in his soul - Oleanderkit moves closer. The inspection of his sire's eyes is not as searching as it once was - just like last time, it is not empty nor full. It simply just is. Steady, tolerant, a tad bored.
Oleanderkit holds his breath, waiting for any hint of recognition, but instead of a greeting, a silence falls between them. What may be comfortable, perhaps even desired, for Cicada feels contrarily eerie and uncomfortable to the boy.
"It's.. Oleanderkit,"
the kitten adds, quieter this time, as if answering an unspoken question that may or may not have existed. Cicada opens their mouth, as if to apologize or pretend to remember, but closes it instead. Maybe bug remembers that they've already had this conversation - maybe it remembers that they've already apologized before. Or maybe it's just exhausted - always tired, always seeking silence, Oleanderkit remembers.The lack of acknowledgement doesn't hurt the way Oleanderkit's expects it to. The way it used to. They don't weigh on his heart; they simply settle, heavy and dull, like a stone sinking into still water.
"I talked to you last week,"
the boy adds, because that is a fact, and facts can be repeated until they stick. But this time, he doesn't wait for a reply - he clears his throat and straightens up before bug's confusion can process into their gaze. There is no point in waiting for the inevitable. It feels much easier on his heart to accept that fact rather than fight it."That's okay."
It comes easy, as if practiced. "I will leave now. I don't want to make your head hurt."
Cicada's eyes soften ever so slightly, as if relieved, and they give a faint, grateful huff of a breath. "That is.. thoughtful. Thank you."And so, Oleanderkit stands, then leans forward just enough to nudge a wad of water-soaked moss towards the healing feline.
"I brought this for you. That's all."
And then, without another glance backwards, Oleanderkit leaves.Outside, a setting sun casts a bright ray upon a camp bustling with evening noise. Cats who know where they belong share tongues with their loved ones, reminiscing about their day. Oleanderkit passes through it without stopping, ears perked and eyes steady as he returns back to Wisteriastrike and his siblings. That night, he settles into bed without no more than a 'goodnight'. The next day, he talks less.
Over time, he had learned to keep his steps light, his voice even. He had become very good at being easy to forget. Perhaps life's tragedies will hurt less that way.
-
-
OLEANDERKIT he/him, shadowclan kit 03 moons old.
a short, well-groomed pale feline with a lilac overcoat and grey stripes
mentored by none // mentoring none
littermate to elderkit, deathberrykit, goldenrodkit, maggotkit, and centipedekit
half-sibling to cloudberrypaw, mistletoepaw, and hemlockpaw
CICADABUZZ x WISTERIASTRIKE // father/mother to none // mated to none
"speech"
penned by IXORA ↛ .ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
ooc ] slightly backwritten to about a moon ago. powerplay permission rwt cicada was given and approved by tully <3