- Jun 7, 2022
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the greenery thickens amongst the willows, long limbs swaying low, as if swathing them desperately back amongst the riverlands. the moors are starless, so close and yet so far from the light of their ancestors. his gaze flits back towards his son ; still unused to his limbs, unused to his shadows. unused to the world. as he should be, he would be the first to instill this knowledge to him — but he had little time. iciclefang would return, and it is with excitement that he will pass him to her. cicadapaw, to learn from the mighty, returned warrior of riverclan, his fathers own handiwork. she would teach him well, she would teach him valiantly, without mercy. she would become a core for him. cicadastar would have to work twice as hard, twice as memoriably, for these memories to settle in. the wind picks up and — there. there. the reek washes over the bridge, acrid and bitter on the tongue. anger bubbles at his veins but when he speaks, it is even. it is a cool, shadowed tone. be bore his shadows well.
his paws slow, so that he may be closer to the boy. is this how his mother had felt? this stilted, this harrowing? ” remember this, my son : this scent clings to all those who wish you harm. when you smell this, your claws are to be out, regardless of how cordial they may seem — you’ve seen them, now. you see that they are small, pathetic and wiry — they can only rely on speed and surprise to land a blow. “ his head turns, hound - like in its sleekness. hooded eyes, sharp and blinding beneath low, dark lids — his expression is cold, so he will remember this, ” do not let me catch you with soft paws in their presence. “ they will kill you. they will. he wouldn’t have it. he thinks of snakeblink’s words, long ago — to steal one of her brood. despite the sudden urge to pull his child closer and eye the outskirts of their river, despite the leader never daring admit it, he wished he had.
in truth, he still would today.
a rambling, low voiced thing, he continues with a near titter, ” the gathering, of course, is a different story. we are not beasts. appearances, cicadapaw, should be important to a riverclanner. “ his mothers tongue, less kind — fix yourself. its seared into his mind the way he can only hope saves the child’s life, one day. weakness, if wanted enough, could be willed out. speaking, thinking as he is, he nearly misses it when it sounds : a low croon that eventually slows his gait, like a bitten - off bark through a sore, aching throat. his paws still, poised — deerlike, his mate would call it. long, with limbs tense, ” hold. “ stop. his tail lifts urgently, pausing then both in their strides to listen. something like a yip, broken and haggard. a beat passes.
a sudden shriek cuts the air.
visceral, ripped from something — someones— dying tongue. a wrong move, a burst of pain. the man’s ears angle, but his expression changes little, save for the barest pull of concerned whiskers at his brow. automatic, he snaps his head towards his son, aims to sweep a tail protectively over his frame, shrouding him himself, only momentarily, ” stay. lower to your belly, and keep your ears down. “ a warriors waiting position. a crawl, eyes left to peer through the grass they duck into. one day, he would be old and wide enough to venture into these unknowns himself, but cicadastar — cicadastar. danger is nothing to an everlasting soul, painful as the sever of each nerve ending happened to be. the emptiness, the darkness that overtakes his woozy skull. his voice, much lower now than it had been, sounds quick and firm. barking orders, though his rounded vocals dampen with rousing worry, ” do not move so much as a whisker until i say, am i clear? “ belated, he turns again to look at cicadapaw — his mirror, his shadow for the moons to come. his gaze lingers, a concealed you’d better listen well behind salt blue eyes.
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i. @CICADAPAW SON.
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★ ⋆ CICADASTAR
−−−−FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTPAW, CICADAPAW && BEEPAW. PENNED BY ANTLERS−−−−−⁺₊✧
he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue 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. jutting jawline and a squared chin, 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 ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn 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 hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
no character opinions represent my own.
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