sensitive topics I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD || cicadastar

The reflection in the river taunted the medicine cat: the doppelganger smiled with crimson paws and stained teeth. Charred skin caused a macabre scene. The mirrored image looked weary and unfamiliar. Once attractive features contorted into an ugly visage.

No one would ever want her. Her murky heart sunk to the bottom of the water. That wasn't much of a revelation, now was it? Even the stars who sent her to ThunderClan scorned her. They hadn't revealed themselves since the warning regarding the fire and the omen directed toward the path she stalked.

It was understandable that ThunderClan didn't trust the she-cat. Honestly, she found it impossible to believe in herself. Everyone left. Salamander molted and, upon the discarded skin, emerged a miserable cat. What of Cinderfrost? No, she couldn't even call herself that especially after the stars shunned her.

Sunken eyes stared at the teeth imprinted scar on her throat: an everlasting reminder. If she'd kept her mouth shut, would things have been different? Probably. But she had grown tired of keeping her mouth clamped and being the silent, loyal warrior who lacked an opinion of her own.

Trembling, front paws disrupted the water, ripples obscuring her vile self. Burned paws should hurt. Beesong admitted that her paws would probably never be the same: the precise movements she'd been known for hindered by injured by muscle damage.

"Cicadastar." A stiff, overly formal greeting upon his arrival. Her gaze never left her damaged paws limply cast into the water. "Thank you for saving Roekit." Another child who looked up to her that she failed.


− ♱ ABOUT : in all honesty, he had not meant to stumble upon her. the man was patrolling — after the gathering and skyclan’s denouncement of windclan, he couldn’t help but walk the lengths of the river, steps as quiet and careful as the bubbling waters. icy eyes lingered on the gorge, where windclan run wild over the moors. he thinks, wonders, kills over the prospect of an attack — his nerves run alight with paranoia, bitter icy eyes flitting over the faint arch of outlook rock, mind conjuring images of mangled skin and too - haughty attitudes. the presence of riverclan was great, but windclan’s own was close behind. the forest was against them now, it seems. the man doubted they would try anything, would step paw from their lands. sootstar was not stupid. he passes the falls quietly, listening to the roar of water as it catches into the moving river below, jagged rocks sending spray to dampen his curled pelt.

in the distance sunningrocks loom, bleached a pale grey and illuminated with light. late greenleaf rain has all but washed charred embers and soot away, thunderclan residing comfortably within their camp as their warriors work to clear the debris of their home. emberstar has been nothing but grateful despite the haunted expression that befalls her at times — quieter now, though she tries to smile through it. he knows how difficult it is. he knows the horrors of coming back ; speared through the throat as he was, paws lifted as in ascent to starclan while blood drains from the splintered wound keeping him pinned. the be burned . . scorched alive, the terrible scar tissue along the mollys back enough to dampen his heart, a drop in his stomach. his own wound, scarred and mangled and tough, lie hidden beneath a pelt of sleek, thick curls. it’s uncomfortable to rest on, but at least it were easier to conceal. emberstar did not have that same pleasantry.

the man catches her scent before he sees her. his stealth as always been a strong suit, and hidden amongst the reeds, he can see the silvery molly settled by the water. staring forward, into a burned, scarred reflection. salamander — no, cinderfrost. just as he had been named by the stars, so had she. a bit cruel, he thinks, but fitting for her. a descent. frost. he thinks it strange, that the heavens would put them together. ember and frost. he thinks of the look that crossed the point mollys features when he’d asked what happened. she’d flitted over it, obviously uncomfortable, but he knew. with thunderclan living amongst their ranks, word had gotten around enough. they were wary of her, their medicine cat. he couldn’t imagine treating beesong in such a way, could barely imagine her punishment, though he thought it strange. buckgait had been put on probation for a threat alone — he wonders briefly what would have happened should the stars have called for her to be placed with him. cicadastar thinks of the last time they’d met, and his heart chills at the thought.

his warriors would have maimed her. smokethroat and willowroot would have had her pelt flying from river rock before he could come back to. bonejaw had nearly had her throat for spitting madly at her own colony mates alone.

eventually he steps from the shadows, letting the light hit him. the river phantom knows not what he will say, but soon he is prompted anyway. cicadastar. she uses his true name. the mottled man would struggle to do the same for her. thank you for saving roekit, buckgait is a good warrior. i couldn’t have done it without her. “ twice. he’d saved the silver molly twice, yet her hatred burns at him still. the leader of riverclan — he is weary, now. yet as he comes to stand a few yards away, he still knows not what to say. he merely sits, half - shaded in the dark of the twoleg bridge, the rapid bubbling of the falls a comforting noise at his back, “sal, what have you done? “ for howling wind to watch her so closely. for emberstar to darken at her name. for mollies to nudge their kits away from her path, save for roekit. it’s quiet, his words — a calm, otherwise absent tone. the man cannot say he would be sympathetic, but he stands curious still. what happened to you resides on his tongue, but he holds it, as he grudges tend to linger.

  • CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
    − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers

  • none.

tw// suicide ideation, mentions of death​

"I'll be sure to thank her, then."

What did I do? Sour bile stung as it was forcefully swallowed down. I saved Emberstar. One life claimed overshadowed the several lives saved. But could she truly blame them?

"Throughout the Great Battle, I used non-lethal tactics to thwart our enemies," she began, eyes sorrowfully staring in the distance as that dreadful day replayed in her mind, "But that had been the incorrect move. Honor blinded and made a fool of me. Silly me to assume they'd value their dignity over feral glory."

"I formed my own opinions and that became my downfall. First, a traitor for preaching peace something which even my brother considered me to be. Then, my grief was denied." Denied by Bone and you. "Only I was reprimanded while the one I once called a friend was simply sent on a walk despite her killer intentions. One friend tried to kill me while the other turned his back on me."

A dry chuckle momentarily broke her matter-of-fact monologue. "Salamander failed her family and colony. She promised to protect their innocent lives but she failed. So, I discarded her. Instead, I walked around nameless with a mission." A mission of "redemption" and vengeance.

"I hunted for the cats who stole their lives. Once I killed them, I planned on ending myself." The molly was tired as ideals fought: one side wishing to continue the suicidal duty she'd tasked herself with while the other insisted that this was as wrong.

"StarClan called for me, though. Directed me toward the moonstone. When I woke up, she was there: a twittering, happy bird who lived despite defending someone who would dare attack children. I thought the stars sent me there to further my mission since they sent me directly to her. They could have sent me anywhere yet they'd send me to her."

The implications of what happened next were impossible to miss. "But I had been wrong." she needlessly summarized. Her stone visage crumbled as she recalled the "righteous" rage she'd felt that day. The moral code she'd always upheld had been blurred and shaken when her claws sliced down the cream-point's soft, exposed stomach. When the one she looked down upon with such disdain stirred - alive once again - her deranged mind urged her to bleed the she-cat dry.

StarClan, specifically Ash, rejected the actions she thought to be justified. Even worse, Howling Wind, a cat she viewed as a second mother, abandoned her for someone she hardly knew. "And now Leaping Toad's killer walks among ThunderClan." Her shoulders trembled. "Naturally accepted by an accomplice to murder." StarClan and Emberstar declared mental warfare on her already withered mental state.

A lump formed in her throat. "I know I fucked up." StarClan etched that into her brain before severing contact. "I'm a fucking monster now and I deserve their hatred. I should have destroyed myself once I left the swamp." Her voice broke.

And then her whole body.

She crumbled to the ground, silent sobs wracking her ribs. One grudge she'd tightly clung to was finally pried from her grip. "I'm sorry I blamed you - that I thought you'd betrayed me. I'm the one who betrayed you and myself." The blue mink wasn't expecting forgiveness nor looking for pity despite her pathetic state. She'd always tried to hide away any weaknesses from everyone - even her friends - but her armor had a crack in it.

If she, incapable of swimming, jumped into the river then everyone would cheer and sing merry songs. Ding-dong the witch is dead. Her gaze pleaded with him for death before she shielded her face away from Cicadastar, unable to look at the disgust that surely painted his beautiful face.
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