Private Leader's Den for the eyes to sing along ] sablestar

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 27 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz approaches the leader's den with the same unhurried precision they always do, their steps quiet and deliberate against the damp ground of the pocosin. They are not one for small talk, and the weight of the task ahead does not stir their typical calm. They have come to deliver a message, a request, and though the words may be few, they will be clear. When they reach Sablestar, they do not call his name or make any attempt to draw attention. Instead, they wait until his gaze shifts toward them, as inevitable as the tide. Their black eyes, ever watchful, are steady. There is no rush in their movements as they take a few steps closer, their tail brushing the ground in a slow, meditative sway.

"Magpiekit," Cicadabuzz begins, their voice a low and even murmur. "He has a good mind. Observant. Focused." They pause briefly, a flicker of thought passing through them before they continue, "He has shown interest in my work. The things I know." Their gaze sharpens slightly, focusing directly on Sablestar, measuring his response, but their tone does not change. It is not an offering, but a statement. They take another step forward, unblinking, and the silence around them thickens. There is no hurry in their words, no pleading, only the steady, unyielding presence of their request. "I would like to teach him. To show him how to prepare such things. How to use them." They stop before Sablestar, the distance between them neither too close nor too far. "You said that the young ones should be apprenticed. Magpiekit has potential." The words are factual, not speculative, as if this is the natural next step for the kitten with a curious mind.

Their eyes narrow just slightly. "I ask for your approval. As his father." The finality of the statement lingers, and Cicadabuzz does not press further. They are not here for Sablestar's permission in the conventional sense. They do not need assurances or elaborate discussions. If the answer is no, they will accept it, but they will not leave without having presented their request.

 

[SABLESTAR]

The tides of exchanging a new world for the hope of closer kinship had ridden through it's most harrowing crashes. Things seem to have grown steady from where he stood, adjusting to the unexpected uproot of ThunderClan and transitioning to the life of ShadowClan. This would be the home of his kits, primarily Magpiekit and Dreamkit of course. Asterkit would hear secondhand of their adventures here and it is with hope that seeing his littermates enjoy their time with their father, that he would be less apprehensive in the next turnover.

The kits could handle themselves well against even the snappiest of their peers, they would need that toughness to survive the judgement expected of the adults surrounding them. While they invited ThunderClan scent to mingle with the safety of camp, he already prepared they would find necessity in working twice as hard to prove themselves. Though still young the moons would pass on behind them quickly and he already struggled to imagine where their training days would bring them, who would lead them through it. His council was a mixed bag and plenty held onto their hatred for the colonists in ThunderClan. He wouldn't have them follow the shadow of a warrior just made, either. They needed someone with true experience, someone that has bled and breathed for the land beneath their paws.

Amethyst sights look to where movement stirred from a familiar pelt. Sablestar acknowledged Cicadabuzz silently with no protest in their closer approach. They speak the name of his son and that truly captured his curiosity, wondering if he was about to hear another frog-war trampling their den. His presence in the medicine cats den had not gone unnoticed when Sablestar himself preferred the other cat's company as well. The leader did not find enjoyment in the long list of organization that Cicadabuzz had but purely stayed for conversation, or the quiet.

"He's curious, something he must have picked up from Serpentberry, first." The she-cat had overlapped in Cicada's skill since the Colony days, it would be predictable that with their litters close in age that something may have rubbed off on him. There is a pause before they follow up, and Sablestar glanced towards the nursery briefly. An apprentice, a cat with the same skill to aid the Clan, his kit to lead in their pawsteps.

Sablestar doesn't meet Cicadabuzz's gaze right away as his tail thudded in thought. They had been crowned a medicine cat in the authority of Fleecefur, after all. The she-cat swallowed in pitch shadows and rot. If she were to present herself, Magpiekit could stumble into taking on more than just Cicada's medicine path, but the deal he wrought this Clan into as well. He still didn't know how far he could trust the spirit, either. Gifted power through killing, who knew what she expected of Cicadabuzz. Magpiekit would be inheriting a demon-pact. But in being a medicine cat, it withdrew him from the front lines of warriorhood. He would not face the dangers of daily patrolling, and ThunderClan knew better than to interfere with this, now. Would it be the safest future?

"You would not share this with me if you did not want it, sincerely." He could not recall the cat clearing wanting for something, not in this way. "I approve, but only if Magpiekit agrees. He can learn to heal from you but none of the... communing, you and I have shared. Fleecefur will not touch this."

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• "mew"
• 

  SABLESTAR— he/him ･fifty-four moons ･leader; shadowclan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[cicadabuzz]

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

Cicadabuzz listens with the same steady patience they always do, their expression unreadable as Sablestar speaks. They are not surprised by his hesitation—his mind is careful, methodical, weighing each possibility with the caution of a cat who has already made too many costly choices. That, at least, is something they respect about him. When he gives his approval, their whiskers twitch in acknowledgment. It is not relief—Cicadabuzz does not allow themselves the foolishness of expecting outcomes—but it is satisfaction. The path they envisioned for Magpiekit will not be obstructed, at least not yet. They are sure he will receive a new name shortly.

But then, there is a condition.

Cicadabuzz does not react immediately. They simply absorb the words, turning them over in the quiet cavern of their mind. No communing. No spirits. No Fleecefur. A restriction meant to protect, no doubt. Cicadabuzz has no delusions about the danger of their path, nor do they resent Sablestar for his wariness. He has seen what they have seen. He knows what lingers beneath the surface. Still. "You would have me limit him," they say finally, their voice as measured as ever. It is not a question, nor an argument, but an observation, as unmovable as the pocosin itself. Their black eyes remain fixed on the leader, unwavering. "I understand." And they do. Magpiekit is still young, his paws barely steady beneath him. Sablestar does what any father would—shield his son from the unseen, the unknowable. But Cicadabuzz also knows this—the unseen does not stay unseen forever. One day, Magpiekit will have questions that simple answers cannot satisfy.

"He will learn what I teach him," they continue, their tail brushing idly against the damp earth. "The herbs, the poultices, the things that will keep your warriors standing and your kits breathing. He will have steady paws and a sharp mind." They tilt their head slightly, considering. "But when he is older, when he has seen more of this world, he should be allowed to decide for himself. The choice should be his." Their voice does not waver, though there is something in the way they say it—something firm, something final. Cicadabuzz does not push, does not challenge, but they have made their stance clear. The decision to commune with spirits, to walk that treacherous path, should not be one made for another. It should be walked willingly, with full understanding of what it entails. Magpiekit may never wish to step into that world. Or, when the time comes, he may find himself unable to turn away from it.

Cicadabuzz allows a long pause before adding, "Fleecefur does not own me, Sablestar." It is said with no anger, only fact. "And she will not own him." Whatever bargains have been made, whatever pacts were struck in the past, Cicadabuzz does not intend to drag an unwilling soul into them.