Open Camp nobody knew and nobody knows ] curiosity

[cicadabuzz]

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

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Cicadabuzz moves through the undergrowth with their usual unhurried grace, steps silent as fallen leaves. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and distant rain, the forest alive with the low hum of insects and the rustling of unseen creatures. Yet, their focus is on the small object nestled between their teeth—a twisted, gnarled piece of bark, split in a way that reveals a strange, silver sheen within. It is unlike anything they have seen before, and that alone makes it worth studying. The colony—the Clan—does not often concern itself with such oddities. Cicadabuzz knows this. If they were to present this finding to another cat, they might receive only a dismissive flick of the tail or a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. But that does not deter them. Curiosity is a quiet hunger within them, one that tugs them toward mysteries others might ignore.

They slip into the cool shade of their den, a space filled with the scents of dried herbs, fresh moss, and the faint, ever-present tang of crushed flowers clinging to their own fur. With careful precision, they set the bark down upon a flat stone near the entrance, tilting their head as they observe it. The silver streak glistens faintly in the dim light, as if something trapped beneath the bark is trying to surface. Cicadabuzz extends a paw, running a claw lightly over the metallic sheen. It does not flake like tree sap, nor does it have the brittle crumble of fungus. It is something else entirely. Their tail flicks once, thoughtfully. Could it hold some kind of healing property? Or is it simply a quirk of nature, one with no use beyond its quiet strangeness? Either way, they will find out. They do not like unanswered questions.

They settle down, pulling a few dried leaves toward them—ones they suspect might react to whatever substance coats the bark. If there is something potent within, the leaves may change color, absorb moisture, or curl. If nothing happens, well… then perhaps it is just an interesting piece of the world, something to be noted and remembered but not necessarily understood. The quiet of their den settles around them, but Cicadabuzz does not feel alone. The land speaks in small ways, and today, it has given them something worth listening to. They run a claw over the bark once more.

 

[webpaw]

She was there for something. Maybe something for a scratch, or to get a splinter out... It didn't matter when Webkit noticed Cicadabuzz's attention diverted so strongly onto what they had in their paws. Naturally, her own curiosity followed, and she leaned her face close to study it, tall ears potentially blocking Cicadabuzz's sight. Webkit eyed the dried leaves nearby, and the acute way the medicine cat ran their claw over the bark made her guess something ritualistic was going on. Something with the bark and its metallic innards had to be important. She wanted it.

"Can I have it?" the sepia asked, her bent posture almost surrounding the oddity.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡

she/her; afab / any gendered terms / 5 months
shadowclan kit / former kittypet
seal sepia with vitiligo / orange eyes

peaceful powerplay allowed, no perms needed
ask before hostile powerplay unless preplanned
always open to interaction in battle unless stated otherwise
ask before injuring !

 

[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

Cicada does not startle, though Webkit's sudden presence is an unwelcome disturbance in the quiet flow of their thoughts. They had been absorbed in the slow process of discovery, the patience of their work stretching out like roots beneath the surface—steady, deliberate, undisturbed. But now, the sepia-furred kitten leans in too close, her wide eyes filled with a hunger for something she does not yet understand. A slight twitch of Cicada's ear betrays their irritation, though their expression remains impassive. Without a word, they lift a paw and press it against Webkit's forehead, pushing gently but firmly until her head is no longer obstructing their view. It is not an aggressive motion, but it is unyielding, a clear dismissal of her intrusion into their space.

"No," they say simply, voice as dry as the curled leaves beside them. Their tail flicks once against the stone floor of their den before they return their attention to the bark. The silver sheen still gleams faintly, its mystery yet to be unraveled. Cicada does not owe Webkit an explanation. They do not expect other cats to understand the importance of patience, of careful study, of learning for the sake of learning. Most come to them only when something is wrong, when pain drives them here against their will. Webkit, it seems, comes only for the sake of wanting. They let the silence stretch between them, giving her the opportunity to leave. But Webkit does not. She lingers, watching, her presence an itch at the edge of Cicada's awareness.

With a slow sigh, they finally glance at her, dark eyes steady and cool. "You don't know what it is," they point out, a truth laid bare. They shift slightly, using a claw to scrape at the bark again, testing how the silvery substance reacts to pressure. "If you have a use for it, tell me," they continue, tone measured. "Otherwise, it stays here." Cicada does not deal in meaningless trades. If Webkit wants something, she must prove it is worth giving.

 

[webpaw]

Queen-spoiled for many days now, Webkit had gotten unused to that cutting word. There were plenty of cats ready to give her an extra bite, more leniency in the game, because she had come in with her ears nearly bigger than her body. Her eyes narrowed petulantly at Cicadabuzz. Why did they want it? It was shiny, it was useless right now. The soft scraping sound of the claw over the metal convinced her there was no discovery to be found. She knew how neat she would look with such an oddity, and she had already planned to display it at the front of her nest so others could see.

A frustrated huff escaped her mouth. Anyone else would've lent her it, she was so certain. For some reason, it made her want the bark more. "What is it then?" she interrogated burningly, just in case it was something useful. Not that she would forfeit it if it had a purpose outside aesthetics; maybe that would make it even more interesting.

"You know, I have cool stuff too." She glanced away, hoping Cicadabuzz was equally as jealous of her reminiscing on her own discoveries. Webkit reached in the far, dusty corners of her mind for where she'd hidden or threw stuff she had found. Like a stick painted almost entirely half and half with bird droppings, or the weird, bumpy toad someone had discarded from the freshkill pile.

The sepia's eyes flickered hungrily back to the trinket, already forgetting her original question. "What's that stuff in it?" she insisted.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡

she/her; afab / any gendered terms / 5 months
shadowclan kit / former kittypet
seal sepia with vitiligo / orange eyes

peaceful powerplay allowed, no perms needed
ask before hostile powerplay unless preplanned
always open to interaction in battle unless stated otherwise
ask before injuring !

 

[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

Cicada listens to Webkit's words, feeling the weight of each one like pebbles dropped into still water—disturbances, ripples that pass quickly but never truly fade. They do not meet Webkit's petulant gaze. Instead, they let her words fall around them, like wind brushing through leaves. Cicada is used to the push and pull of requests, desires, and demands. But none of it alters their steady rhythm. The younger cat's frustration is clear, a tension that prickles the air. Cicada feels it, a disturbance to the otherwise calm atmosphere of their den, and for a moment, they entertain the thought of silencing it with words. But that would be unnecessary. Webkit's hunger for the object is almost amusing, like a child's for an unearned prize. Cicada would have expected more from a cat old enough to understand patience.

They slowly turn their head, black eyes narrowing, though their expression remains mostly unchanged. "You want it because you don't know what it is." Their voice is steady, even, but there is a hint of something more in their tone—an unspoken understanding of how easily curiosity can turn to desire, how the unknown becomes a lure. The bark is something unfamiliar, something that cannot be simply handed away because it would make someone feel 'cool' for having it. Cicada pauses, claws stilling over the silvery sheen of the bark. "I don't give things away for the sake of pleasing someone's vanity." Their gaze flicks to Webkit, the younger cat's eagerness clear even through her attempt to feign disinterest. "You are impatient and spoiled. You can not have everything you desire."

It would be too easy to hand Webkit what she wanted, to pacify her for the sake of silence. But Cicada knows better. It is not what the young one wants that matters; it is what she will do with what she gets when she gets it. If Webkit cannot grasp the concept of patience, she will learn nothing, least of all the value of true discovery. They lower their head again, resuming their study of the bark. The silver gleams faintly in the dim light, still silent, still mysterious. Cicada can feel the weight of it between their paws. There is something there, something beyond what Webkit can see. But Cicada does not rush. They never rush. "That 'stuff,'" Cicada repeats, the word said with a bit of a grimace, their tone almost dismissive as they draw their paw across the surface again, testing, "is not for your enjoyment. Not until I understand it myself."

Webkit's hunger is obvious, but Cicada's purpose is clear. They are not here for trinkets. They are not here to feed the desires of the young. The bark may hold something useful, something that could help their Clan. But it is too soon to know. And too soon for Webkit to claim it. "Perhaps," Cicada adds, their voice still level, "when you learn to wait, to understand, you'll see the value in something more than its surface." They pause, letting the words sink in. "Until then, you may find something else to amuse yourself with." Cicada does not need to speak louder, nor does their tone need to carry any edge. Webkit has been given the answer, and now it is her choice whether to accept it or walk away. Cicada's patience is not infinite.