private BURNT TO THE GROUND, WHAT ABOUT POP? ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ 200TH MILESTONE

[BEEFANG]

ᨒ AN EYE FOR AN EYE, A LEG FOR A LEG. A SHOT IN THE HEART DOESN'T MAKE IT UNBREAK ᨒ​

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ — All of it is a blur. She can hardly pull the memories close to her recalling how she had been found by her littermates how Cicadaflight had looked at her and how she finally had collasped from overexertion. The gentle and careful paws of her pale furred best friend had tended to her injuries without hesitation, Beefang can't remember if Moonbeam had been upset with her physical state yet she doesn't know if she even cared that much so long as she's safe and reunited with her starblessed mate not in whatever lush forest that Starclan lives in. The newly made warrior found herself drifting in and out of consciousness, her singular amber eye unable to stay shut before she tried to jolt forward to attack whatever movement that's on her left. Eventually, the soothing words of Moonbeam is enough to ease her and the medicine cat tells her not to move as much due to the cobwebs that kept her scars under the wraps, Beefang's unaware of how bad she appears and she's much too tired to care.

Beefang finally drifts off into a slumber being able to relax enough to allow herself to sleep and she knows that she's finally home safe without the worry of that mangy rogue coming for her yet there's still a feeling of unease in her gut. The injured warrior stirring in her sleep but not waking from her rest instead the warrior opens her eye yet for a single heartbeat, she's able to see with both and her pupils widen at the sight in front of her. "Am... Am I dead?" Beefang asks the phantom in front of her with a hoarse voice, a singular blink, and she's down to her lone eye once more appearing like her mentor that had died moons ago. The fire from her eye dulls in the slightest as she glances behind her shoulder then back to him and she swallows the lump in her throat as she appears like she'll wail like an upset kitten but her jaw clenches instead "I'm not going... To Starclan."

"I made a promise..." She continues softly as she shifts slightly where she lays and her lone eye locks onto those icy eyes that she hasn't looked upon in several moons, "Father."

⡠﹞SHES NOT A BAD KID ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ BUT THEY HAD TO DO IT, SHE HAD TO CRACK﹝⠢

• 

  WARRIOR SKILLSET;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ HUNTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧ TRACKING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ COMBAT
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ STEALTH
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧ STRATEGY
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ SWIMMING
  — ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ CLIMBING
• 
  ✦ a shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and mismatched eyes
  ✦ oftentimes comes off as untrusting of those around her, closed off, and not the easiest to engage in conversation with, she's not easy to befriend. distrusting of outsiders and will snap at you if y/c walks up to her on her blind side. all her opinions are IC only.
  ✦ 12 moons old; ages the 10th every month
  ✦ asexual homoromantic; mated to moonbeam
  ✦ currently mentoring... n/a ; formerly mentored by smokestar
  ✦ firstborn daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
  ✦ sister of cicadaflight and cricketchirp
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

he has gotten used to wading in these shallows. learning the surreal, soundless meadows and wading further, though never enough to douse patchwork curls in any sort of comfort — brackish water laps annoyingly at bony ankles at its deepest, too thick and too sludgelike to leave not a trace behind. he wades here in wait. wait, wait, and it’s all he can do ; a blistering scab of long waned patience, picked raw by fidgeting paws that watch for any sign of life, of light. of images from a world down below, glimpses into the lives of his kin and his clan that only bloats and reeks further with each passing sunrise. he watches the moon grow black, tainting the place that has once been family - descended ( he had claimed that spot under history gleaming eyes.. his mate had upheld it with honor, and his children were to be next ; kin. true kin, blood and stardust and all ), watches one of the many cats comfortable enough to trapeze throughout his land do so again and do upon his daughter what had been done to him now moons ago. starclan does not see, must not, but he certainly did.

vermillion seeps across the planes and valleys of constellations he’d painted neat with a gentle, fatherly tongue ; downy fur dousing thick and heavy with unsewn legacy. she had dived in, fangs bared and cicadastar feels the burn of pride seethe through him, leaning forward to watch as she bowls into the trespasser. a killing bite would be all it took, no warning. only action. he sees her father in her, in each away of heavy muscle and.. blinding, disadvantageous anger. she is too sure, bears his overconfidence and bravado with all smokestar’s violence but it is not enough — claws tear comet trails into his little girl, gushing shades of blush and strawberry into the cool grass and only pushing, pushing. it didn’t seem possible, not to his frantic eye, for this creature.. less than feline, a structure of fur and meat and filth, to be able to touch her so easily. to cut and rip as he did, spilling kingsblood into the lonely night ; this dank tom of patchy striping, sire of ugly, four - eared halfbloods.

less preferable company than a husk of maggots, less valuable than the bloated eyes of a salmon rotting around the heave of unfailed lungs — a disfigurement, both physical and spiritual, and still so terribly plain it tore a scream from her fathers throat when he tears victorious. little help, his bottlebrush body, gaunt and spitting towards the breathing shadows around him as if it were the rogue himself. the insolence astounds him, embitters him ; rage wildfires like the remaining of his daughters sight, burning red and doused with blood.

an eye for an eye.

slits of icechip blue carve against the murk of den and hazily, there she is. she spots him quickly ( had he appeared when she woke? had fallen asleep? ) mist drips at his every edge in gleaming black, seemingly stretched in the limb even moreso than he had been in life ( a trick of the mind? ). he is all sinew and royal curls but this body is not his, dreamlike and just a little odd — too angular, too shadowed, cross - hatched with scarring like a thrumming heaven of shooting stars. still black and frostbitten at the maw, though pearlescent teeth still shape upwards like the softest silk when she sees him through the haze of injury. am i dead? kitten whisper, a hidden tremble bed known long ago, the hard clench of a jaw something learned. instilled. there is a mimicry of it in his memories, an explosive argument and hard, gritted teeth, the muscle of smokestar’s jaw twitching beneath his white speckled pelt.. a breath falls from his maw in a way not unlike how he’d looked at them in life ( full of love, a softness reserved only for those with fishbone scarring ; led by saintified claws into his delicate, volatile dance. ), ” oh.. not yet, my darling girl. “ words slope with deep, near - forgotten memory ; jutting vocals worded gentle, petal dousing thorned stem.

white - capped paws bring him near, the hum of cicada growing briefly shrill outside the dark walled medicine den ( moonbeams den? it is dark, shrouded. little scent. ) beefang is not perturbed. fierce - eyed, smokestar looks up at him again from his infection lined nest and demands, demands. cicadastar loves him, loves her — chuckles something tittering and exasperated, bares snakelike teeth like a rearing lamprey, flourished his tail when he circles her like a hovering queen. fussing, sure as her father was to say im not going to starclan, ” the stars do not welcome you tonight. “ it is said comfortingly, doting, as if he’d merely said ‘we all get hurt sometimes’ to a whimpering beekit. as if to prove it further he leans, cranelike, attempts to gently rasp the molly’s long curl of fur back away from her injury ; though thick and old with blood, his tongue seems to slip right through, ” i’ve made sure of it. “ not truly, not as he would have liked — to scream at the sky he had, but to be heard? to force into his will? not so easy as it had been in life, not.. yet. his paws flex, leaning his head back with a smile that softens the saltlike flint of his eye, arch of wild cheek curls framing a gaze full of wonder. he maps her growth like he had his meadowlands ; dedicates her to memory, gore and herbs and all.

just as cricketchrip and cicadaflight had been in his briefest glimpses, she had grown beautifully. regally. a warrior, unlike the amalgamation riverclan had become. ready to splay her claws upon any loner, any kittypet, any clanner that set paw over the borders her father had set long ago. a good daughter, who listened and acted and protected, preserved ; craned her ears at his mourning dove song in life, and he coils a ribbon around her again now. her gaze flits, though, and curiosity ( nosiness ) forces him to follow her eye. moonpaw.. beam, hes heard. an ear flits, ” this is who are you making such lofty promises to? “ a long, coiling brow whiskers quirk. she was certainly.. softer than beefang had ever been ( in attitude, in body. ).. but there is a hum of familiarity in the longing hum of her voice. cicadastar feels his heart burn for her — what a feeling, to have found someone who makes you feel as your father had to me. and riverclan’s medicine cat, as well.. the tip of his tail twitches, viperlike gaze twitching, lingering towards where the alabaster feline slept soundlessly across the way. starclan’s mouthpiece.

when his gaze snaps away, it is hazy, focusing into something gentle ; there was still a way riverclan to improve, wasn’t there? they’ve stars in place of veins, river royalty was as instilled within them as their very marrow — he could pull her apart, pick the holiness from gleaming bones.. he leans down, pressed a mottled nose to the base of a split ear, ” you’ve nothing to fear, now.. you’ve too much you must do — listen to me.. “ a breathy sigh, willowy. blue eyes flit about him, a bad habit ( check every corner, every corner ) before fixing back downward where he curls semi - crescent behind her — tall enough to crane, to be seen still clear as day, ” you look so much like your father.. mein heart. “ his heart. his breath falls on a shudder. he misses him, clear from the longing in his voice his throat clicks to swallow past, ” but you are twice as fierce. you are daughter of the meadowlands, you are both of us. kin of glory. you and your siblings are few who remain of a better time — riverblood runs strong through your veins. “ his gaze drifts towards her injury, pointed. he moves to give her forehead a lick again, moving billows of herb - thickened fur, ” they will come again. rogues, trespassers, kittypets. riverclan has weakened, loyalties have blurred. my brave, brave girl — “ his tone drops, grits. desperation, ” you’ve saved your kin tonight, but you must do it again. and again. it is your destiny, beefang. starclan will not reach you for a long time yet. “

𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗 ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── 𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝘼

• i.
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKESTAR ; FATHER TO CRICKETPAW, CICADAPAW && BEEPAW. 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

  
  

​

 

[BEEFANG]

ᨒ AN EYE FOR AN EYE, A LEG FOR A LEG. A SHOT IN THE HEART DOESN'T MAKE IT UNBREAK ᨒ​

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ — His words are soothing much like a queen would speak to their kit in a comforting and hushed voice whenever they had gotten hurt while roughhousing or playing too carelessly. For a heartbeat, Beefang feels like a kit again as her father begins to dot over her and rasp his tongue over the curly fur that rests atop her head. He reassures her that the stars would not welcome her tonight that he himself had made sure of that and it slows down her heartbeat as she relaxes into his touch, his words, and she almost leans into it. The childhood that she had been robbed of after only a moon of being an apprentice and the perfect family stripped away from her, now, she's an orphan and she must watch over her littermates in the absence of both her fathers. "I... I miss you... so much." Her voice shaky when she admits this.

She swallows as these overwhelming feelings course through her and she wanted to ask so many questions but she doesn't know how long he will be here with her. She feels small once more and Cicadastar towers her like he had before when she had only been two moons old when she had been allowed out of their willow den. How she had eagerly tried to have Cicadaflight raise her to the water yet she had been corrected by the River King and how he'd told her to slow down to be careful. Beefang hesitantly reaches out to her own snowy paw reached to touch his so that she knew he's truly real and here with her now if he would allow her that solace. She simply wants him to coil himself around her til she drifted asleep or woke up, she doesn't know which.

"Is this who you are making such lofty promises to?" He says after pressing a mottled nose to her ear and she nearly flinches away but stays where she is, Beefang searches his eyes for any disapproval but he seems rather curious of her choice. "Yes, she is." A small nod of her helm as she shuffles slightly in her nest knowing that Moonbeam had chose to sleep in their nest rather than the sick one that Beefang found herself in due to how fresh her injuries still were. "She promised me and I'd hold up my own. I love her... very much." She wishes that she had been in her nest so she could've shown Cicadastar the perfect mating stone that Moonbeam had gotten for her while she had been away doing her vigil. She feels ridiculous for wanting his approval... Why should she care for someone whose been a ghost throughout her life after four moons?

When his gaze finally snaps away and focuses back onto her saying that she didn't have anything to fear that she still had so much to do. This causes her brow to crease in confusion but both of her ears angle forward so that she may listen to every word that he wishes to speak to her before he leaves her once more. The thought makes her heart ache in her chest yet it subsides when her father says that she looks a lot like Smokestar. "I do..." A mumble under her breath as her single paw moves slightly as if she were to discard the cobwebs so she could look upon her reflection in a pool of water and see her former mentor staring back at her but the paw tucks itself underneath her body. The way that he speaks makes her chest want to swell yet she chooses to listen with an unblinking eye as he delivers his message.

Riverclan has weakened and loyalties have been blurred... Her pupil narrows carefully as he assures her that she has saved her kin tonight but that she must do it again, her snout wrinkles as her teeth grit "He got away... that damn stray. When I'm out of here... I'll kill him." Beefang growls feeling her anger rising and her blood beginning to boil as she feels frustration towards herself for having lost and letting him run off. Her father says that she must protect her clan again and again, she knows this without a doubt and with a curt nod of her helm. "Starclan will not reach you for a long time." She allows his words to sink in and weigh on her mind as well as heart, she glances down to her paws then to Moonbeam as her lone amber eye softens with a fierce love before turning her attention to Cicadastar once more.

"Tell me what I must do and it'll be done." For her clan, for her kin, and for her mate.

⡠﹞SHES NOT A BAD KID ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ BUT THEY HAD TO DO IT, SHE HAD TO CRACK﹝⠢

• 

  WARRIOR SKILLSET;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ HUNTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧ TRACKING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ COMBAT
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ STEALTH
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧ STRATEGY
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ SWIMMING
  — ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ CLIMBING
• 
  ✦ a shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and a singular amber eye
  ✦ oftentimes comes off as untrusting of those around her, closed off, and not the easiest to engage in conversation with, she's not easy to befriend. distrusting of outsiders and will snap at you if y/c walks up to her on her blind side. all her opinions are IC only.
  ✦ 12 moons old; ages the 10th every month
  ✦ asexual homoromantic; mated to moonbeam
  ✦ currently mentoring... n/a ; formerly mentored by smokestar
  ✦ firstborn daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
  ✦ sister of cicadaflight and cricketchirp
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

for all the countless days and constant night he's endured, warmth spins a smile upon serrated rubberblack lips in the beats of silence it takes before his daughter responds. there is a reverie then in which he pictures himself as he'd expected in the days of living ; raising his children far past their fourth moon, watching them grow into their paws and oversized ears, time to sit them in well respected positions and hovering at their backs when approached by a.. a suitor. a suitor for river royalty, a bloodline pure and strong as the ripping currents, to see them exchange river stones and judge them far more openly then they would care for. he could have pictured himself being hard to please. it soothes his tumultuous soul to know he did not have to. his daughter has chosen that bright - eyed girl with sunset bleeding eyes had once knew, with a pelt the color of bleached bone and sinew. of ivory trembling skies, edges brimming with the orange yellow glow of starburst.. remains and refraction, spraying streaks of color against the heavens. the chosen successor to ravensong, sent to purify ( he remembers his mutterings to smokethroat, talk of getting rid of it. their children. he remembers the secrecy. not again. )

the chattering of cicada grow louder from the too murky depths separating them and the too - thick mist, dark as shadow that claw angrily in loose, smoking swirls at den's entrance. ice shard eyes flick towards it, razor quick, flick back in time to catch his daughter's eye when it searches him. familiar molten orange creep along the ridges of mottled black alabaster and he only softens his brow, relaxes the amusement that ghosts his features ( dead eyes, flat, pale.. ). his features sing an early comfort, mourning dove cry of remembrance wrenching thoughts of a willow den, tangle of too - long limbs and short, star - dappled fur. home, home. how desecrated had it been, now? when he speaks, it is both far away and a close embrace, " my.. why, i remember.. long ago, youd learned to fish together.. of course, it’d been only worms, then. " warmth rings in heavily accented vocals — as if it would spark the same memory, the same image of a late afternoon of tiny paws in newly formed puddles, hooking worms from shallows under iciclefang's watch. the hazy glow of a copper sky, the cool shade where he watched silent, solemn, half - hunched ( for good reason, of course, it was always for a good reason ) but watched nonetheless.

is there anything to stop this? a crackling voice sounds at the peripheries of his mind, the sprawling rivers and lakes he recedes to behind his closed eye and the tip of a long, plumish tail twitches involuntarily. cicada sing, and sing, and sing — were they always this loud? tall ears threaten to pin but he cranes his neck instead, tips his skull on a thoughtful hum, " love will keep you well. devotion found me a strong, dedicated warrior in your father.. and you are like in him more than simple looks. " devotion was a powerful tool, in the right paws. he wonders what it would have been like, if the black tom had sought him enough to come to him and not forced him to wait, and lurk, and wither in expectancy — or for his medicine cat to confess a brewing betrayal as lightningstone had. a sigh befalls him, melodic and forlorn in equal measure, eyes narrowing at the paw that comes to itch at her cobwebs ( infection stink still haunts him ) and relaxing as soon as it’s returned. a brief moment of fleeting praise,, before seeming to sober in thought. stop a kitting before it happens?

he'd loved him. he still would have taken their tongues if anything had gone awry.

he'd waited, watched.. anxious, bristling at every edge until his mate kitted, watched for signs of.. disorder, in them. there'd been none, but his fire had not been doused ; circling them like a vulture, long - necked and beadeyed. always watching, and wasn't that what kept their clan safe? wasn't that what worked until rogues — lawless rogues — stormed their camp, torn them limb from limb until the only solace they could find was.. well, he couldn't quite remember. early memories are still shrouded in a deep, black haze. the muscle in his jaw twitches, " a medicine cat should be the clan's most trusted, most invulnerable. " ravensong's secrecy should have earned him a place alongside his successor and beefang's unfortunate namesake, but it didn't ; merciful. he was a creature of mercy, even where it shouldn't have been shown, " ive known this one as a kit, she has a good heart.. but you be sure she holds her word to you, mein leben." it's said flippant, without much emphasis, with a lick to a rumpled ruff at his daughter's herb - studded jaw, " riverclan's medicine cats have a history of keeping secrets. "

he hopes instills a sapling of worry. a healthy amount was necessary, he'd think ; an amount to keep her alive, on alert, perceptive and straightforward. his voice gentles, works to soften blows disguised as quiet warning. after a quiet beat in which only cicada scream, he murmurs, " .. though seeing you like this gives me hope. i'm happy she has taken such care of you. this spirit.. i can't help but admire the molly you've become. " living life for others ; her kin, her mate, her clan. it was right. it was necessary. it was far better than the pile of splintered fishbone and viscera lichenstar had made of it, such steaming pile of carrion it had attracted shadowclanners they'd welcomed into their ranks with a smile. he wonders if she can see the flies swarming towards her home's open wounds, forming pockets of tragedy waiting to happen, reeking of infection that moonbeam — well, moonbeam had given her life to cure. a sick fish stinks from the head, rots from the neck down and even the youngest of riverclan knew how to handle that. a true riverclanner knew when the meat was still good. knew when to cleave down to it. his throat clicks, the beginnings of something.. something forming behind ice pool eyes, " do not let her go, ja? " do not loosen your grip. oh, what she could accomplish in this position..

she is a teeth - bearing thing, calculated in a way her brother had too little control of. molten fire slit up at him, a hissed promise. i’ll kill him, she says, and the conviction is met with a phantom smile upon frostbitten maw ; pride glows in the shadows on his face, like a mentor watching his apprentice with their first catch, " yes.. of course you will. sometimes.. " he begins, slowly, surely, as if teaching a kit an important lesson, " that is necessary. sometimes, putting them down is for the better. for us, and for them. roguelife.. what a painful existence that must be.. " and he’d always been a believer in putting a cat out of its misery. tell me what to do and i’ll do it, she says — and for a moment, the creature looks at her. scans, flitting across her face for hesitation, for any glimmer of repugnance ; familiar, in times long ago. looking, as if icepick eyes work to detangle woven veins, working down to the very marrow where true intention surely sits.

whatever he finds, it is enough — it is enough. the cicada grow louder, deafening, now, and he knows it is time. he feels his presence wavering, time working at odds in this dreamworld. she would rouse soon, as told by the creeping darkness slinking into the olive sedge. he flourishes his tail to gather her, her attention away from the intrusion and into his eyes, " our time draws near but we will meet again, bug. until then, i want you to watch — keep your ears open. see what i see. " open your eyes, " there is deceit at play. seek it out. “ and we will squash it together.

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

• i.
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  
• † 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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