
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
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.
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.