TW: Sensitive Content Private Medicine Cat's Den haunt the cartoon heart // cicadabuzz

[SABLESTAR]

tw: descriptions of blood and injuries n hell n shit

"I know what happens, now."

His nocturnal habits were not uncommon in ShadowClan, he noticed. Cold nights that started in solitude had begun to grow more crowded as time went on, emerging from the shadows as the temperatures rose. It made for his bloodied return home to require a bit more tact than usual. Entertaining questions to spin lies wasn't something he was quite in the mood for, and he shuffled into Cicadabuzz's den from the passageway tucked behind the stones.

Paws still shook, covered in his own blood and ick. Sablestar held no appetite to taste it again and wash it away, having grown used to it's overwhelming scent while it clogged his nose and poured from his throat. His tail thudded rhythmically against the ground in vain attempts to keep himself in control and his mind from straying. It felt like his heart hadn't stopped thudding since Wolfpack tore his flesh apart, a bird rapidly trying to break free from behind his ribcage as blood pooled within.

"It's... It's eating me. From the inside." Sablestar hissed as he tilted his head back at the medicine cat's direction. The clotted blood broke and itched with a sting as the skin pulled, but he remained dutifully still for bug to work on his wounds. "What waits for me, I know it would not be without sacrifice. But... it consumes. It is never satisfied, even in blood." Sablestar coughed as the tension pushed down on his vocal chords and grimaced. "You've seen it? Haven't you?"

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• @CICADABUZZ
  "mew"
• 

  SABLESTAR— he/him ･sixty moons ･leader; shadowclan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[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 immediately answer. Their paws move with quiet precision, sorting through herbs, picking out what they will need for his care. The den smells of blood and bitter plants, a thick mixture that seeps into the stones like memory. Their tail flicks once, scattering a small clump of dried moss, before they finally lift their gaze to Sablestar. "I have," Cicadabuzz murmurs, voice low, calm, but edged with something that feels more like inevitability than comfort. Their eyes, sharp in the dim, hold his as though pinning him to the earth itself. "I felt what waits. Teeth and fire and nothing soft to catch you. It strips you bare. That hunger you speak of—it is not of the body alone. It gnaws deeper. It leaves you knowing the shape of your end."

They smooth poultice over the torn flesh, gentle but unflinching, their touch steady against the tremor in his frame. "I've walked there before my time. I saw what comes when the last tether frays. There is no rest in it. But it will allow us to continue our work even when our time has come; to reach out to those who follow us and guide them." Their words are not cruel; yet they cut clean as claws. Cicadabuzz leans back, studying the thick clotting around Sablestar's wounds, the slow, stubborn pulse beneath the ragged skin. "You already know it. Your heart beats like a creature trying to flee. It knows the shape of death's teeth as I do. That place—it remembers us. It waits when we falter. It is our duty not to falter." They lower their voice, as if the den itself might be listening. "It consumes because that is all it knows. I see it still. In my dreams. In the silence between breaths. It is with that in mind that I tell you that you were unwise to go seeking it before your time. You are wasting what you have been given, Sablestar. What worth do these gifts have if you throw them away so callously?"