
CICADABUZZ, 30 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 moves like smoke through the tall reeds, their paws barely making a sound on the damp earth. Morning mist still clings to the banks of the stream, curling around their legs and trailing off behind them as they step over smooth stones and muddy tufts of grass. Dew beads on their fur and glints against the delicate stems of herbs tucked carefully into their tail—comfrey, marigold, a single sprig of dried tansy saved from last moon. They pause at the edge of a shallow dip where rainwater has collected, dark and still. Their pale green eyes scan the undergrowth with practiced precision, sweeping past =once, then twice, before they finally focus. There—tucked against a flat stone, half-concealed by a fern's drooping frond—are the thin, bristly stalks they're searching for.
Cicadabuzz steps closer, whiskers flicking forward. The horsetail is healthy, dark green and jointed, water pooling just beneath its roots. They tilt their head. "Good enough," they murmur to no one in particular. Their voice is low, dry. With careful movements, they crouch and begin to nip the stems at their base, leaving enough of the plant rooted to regrow. Their tail stills as they tuck the gathered stalks among the others. Each piece is aligned precisely, kept from bending or breaking. They pause only once to glance upward at the gray sky, nose twitching—no rain yet, but the air tastes like it's considering it. When they're finished, they sit back and give the small patch of horsetail a long, unreadable look, then rise, calm as ever, moving onwards.
Coin Flip: Heads - Success
1d7 Roll: 1 - Wound & Infection
Herb Found - Horsetail
Cicadabuzz steps closer, whiskers flicking forward. The horsetail is healthy, dark green and jointed, water pooling just beneath its roots. They tilt their head. "Good enough," they murmur to no one in particular. Their voice is low, dry. With careful movements, they crouch and begin to nip the stems at their base, leaving enough of the plant rooted to regrow. Their tail stills as they tuck the gathered stalks among the others. Each piece is aligned precisely, kept from bending or breaking. They pause only once to glance upward at the gray sky, nose twitching—no rain yet, but the air tastes like it's considering it. When they're finished, they sit back and give the small patch of horsetail a long, unreadable look, then rise, calm as ever, moving onwards.
Coin Flip: Heads - Success
1d7 Roll: 1 - Wound & Infection
Herb Found - Horsetail