the dark forest BITTER FRUIT ] dark forest

[WEASELCLAW]

The stagnant air is thick with heat, breezeless; the scent of rot gathers at white paws as a lean, scarred tabby stalks through the undergrowth. Wasting muscles ripple beneath a roughened, tattered, chocolate-striped pelt; when he swings his broad head toward the starless sky, his stark blue eyes are narrow with satisfaction.

"StarClan has no pull over those kits," he rasps, the fur beginning to prickle alone his spine. "Cottonsprig has forsaken your idiotic codes. Bluefrost has defied your borders. They already show no regard for StarClan." His laugh is broken, ruptured along the consonants.

It only makes my job easier.

Weaselclaw turns, shredding the soft, loamy earth between his claws. He has visits to make soon, doesn't he?

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[CICADASTAR]

he knows of wretched medicine cats. beesong, ravensong . . he had little positive thing to say about either — both quiet, squirrelly creatures. both fleeing, whimpering traitors, waiting until the day they could slink from his camp and disappear into the night. he thinks of it each time he sees beefang, thinks of her name and curls his lip ; smokestar had named her for his sins, and not a breath goes by in which he did not regret stopping him from condemning her. condemning his daughter, who he'd so desperately not wanted he thought it necessary to run to ravensong ( why? why? what would he have done if there'd been an herb, what would they have . . ) for solace. the dark tom had still left a newly - named smokestar. he revels in the fact that he had only been right, continued to be right long after his body had begun to rot in the marshlands . . but despite his medicine cat's blaring flaws, neither one had stooped so far as this — neither had forsaken lives not yet born, wretched them to the side of darkness with their mere existence. fallen with purpose, with no regard for the eyes of their ancestors.

when weaselclaw turns, cicadastar stands wraithlike amongst the swaying blackgrass, pallid limbs a shocking spill across shadowed undergrowth. at first, he does not speak — he thinks of his daughter, with her hellbound name and love for a medicine cat, and puts himself in white - capped paws for only a moment. some time ago, he would have been disgusted by the similarity in them ; the fact that he comes so quickly to the same conclusion sparking synapsis in weaselclaw's mind ( and he is, still, truly. but there was little he could do for company in this wasteland ). what would he do, if his daughter bore half - blooded kits? bore the kits of a medicine cat, infused their blood with a trickle of stardust the heavens had not allowed? if cicadaflight had salvaged a litter from some outland beast? he'd rage the skies himself, cast thunder and frost and famine across the forest — the day their birth wrought plague upon riverclan, he would erupt with all his might. realistically, he would settle for second best. grandkits. half blooded, fully damned ; moorland royalty forever tainted, twice over . . but grandkits still.

his claws tap stone underpaw, fidgety, " cretins to be dammed by blood of the moor queen . . " he begins, slow and harsh and serene as it has always been ; cut glass eyes shift his way, pupil but a slit line amidst frozen waters. the heavens grow further with each breath, " from darkness these kits will be born, and in darkness they will live. " starclan weeps.

Ｉ　ＷＯＫＥ .　 ˚　.　✦ ( 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗜 𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗦 ) 𝟷𝟶 . 𝟹𝟷 ★

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• † CICADASTAR −−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKESTAR ; FATHER TO CRICKETCHIRP, CICADAFLIGHT && BEEFANG. DARK FOREST RESIDENT. SMELLS LIKE FROST ROT AND DIRTY FLOODWATER. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. gaunt, curled black tortoiseshell smoke with paralyzing permafrost eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. frighteningly thin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful, in a haunting sort of way ; but for all this looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, when he smiles with too many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines set beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the gaunt lines of his physique. always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim and uncanny, shrouded forever at tendril - like limbs with thick, dark mist.
  

  often found in a viciously protected corner of the dark forest, king of murky ponds and reedrotten shores where fish would never swim. a notoriously paranoid and vicious isolationist, cicadastar tends to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. incredibly volatile! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm! no character opinions represent my own.
  
  

  penned by antlers

  
  
• ─── dark forest resident ; easily perceived as a starclanner to those inexperienced with starclan interaction. silver - tongued and manipulative to his core, cicadastar will often even allude to it himself despite the thin, willowy veil of darkness clinging to too - long extremities.
  
  
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