sensitive topics SEND FOR ME. looking for cicada

[QUIETSTREAM.]

tw: brief mentions of abuse !

he had to be around here! h-he just had to be! there was no way that he wasn't right? their stomach turned at the possibility of him not being here. his scent wasn't hard to track after quiet had found themselves pressed into his pelt so often. she found solace and comfort there and as soon as he was gone, so was most of that feeling. bigfoot had left too, they thought, so this was the only logical thing to do. they couldn't stay there anymore. most everyone was kind, nice. but memories of their parents flooded them, and their mentor had been rougher and rougher with her training. she couldn't train like that and they couldn't do it without cicada. cicada... they begged to the stars that he'd be here.

slowly trekking on the unknown territory, the different scents that assaulted their nose made them whimper. it was nearly impossible to distinguish anything with so many unknown variables around. pinning their ears back, they limped further in, sniffing the air occasionally to find any sense of familiarity. "c-cada..." they choked out under a sob, whimpering as they tried to figure out where his scent was. it had to be here. it just had to be.

//minor injuries including a scratch across their face/nose, sprained paw, and bite on their scruff ! they might refuse medical attention unless bigfoot or cicada are around and will be very frightened of anyone approaching them !!
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[ WISH YOU WERE GAY ]​

 

[Foxpaw—]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ The calico hadn't known many of her former groupmates very well. The few times she'd tried to get to know some of them had not gone well or had ended in awkwardness, and she's not keen to try again. Quiet is one who had been more of a shadow herself around camp, young but never speaking, only trailing after Bigfoot or Cicada.

She frowns to see the battered feline, the way they hold their paw as if it's been broken. In tears, crying for what sounds like Cicada himself.

"Oh... what happened?" She's afraid to get too close, as she doesn't know what Quiet has been through. She wonders if she should go and get Cicada. "Can... can you wait here? I don't want you to hurt your paw anymore... I'll go get Cicada, okay? Don't try to go anywhere."

Part of her hates to leave Quiet alone in this state, but Fox is no help to them anyway. She can't help Quiet's paw or their bleeding wounds. She doesn't know if Cicada can, either, but he can comfort the young cat if nothing else.

// gone back to camp to get @DISTANT CICADA ​

✦ PENNED BY MARQUETTE.​

 

[CICADASTAR]

− ♱ ABOUT : its the iron - laden scent of blood along the river breeze that alerts him ; fresh reed and damp soil giving way to the thick crimson odor despite how light it truly was. he'd been on high alert since the night his loyalties had split, and the aching scent of viscera still clung greedily to the lining of his barbed tongue. he’d left them ; not by any intentional cruelty, but to spare them the construction of a new clan. they were safe in newly dubbed shadowclan, under the eye of bone and briar and all those who had sworn to protect the marshes, safer than he could provide comfortably for them now. that’s why the scent causes his heart to drop once he catches it, long limbs working the damp soil as quickly as he could to keep in time with the ginger mottled molly that had come to retrieve him with nothing but a frantic call to follow. quiet. quiet was here. she was here and injured according to fox and his paws ached with each pushing step he takes after her.

he slips from the shadows as he has many times before, reeds clinging to diet - slickened curls and cold eyes fixed wide once that damned scent hits his nose. it knocks a bout of nausea into him, the way they’re scuffed and gingerly padding along with an injured paw, the back of their neck mussed in a way he could only assume concealed puncture wounds, “ quiet. “ its soft but riddled with concern, brows furrowed and expression brimming with the sorrow he could not betray in his voice. he was so happy to see them, the stars knew ; but they had ventured so far, so hurt, “what happened? did you come here all by yourself? “ he rounds the child, steps quick, attempting to use his thick tail to enclose the kitten towards him. if it was the same tom as before . . rage flares in his chest despite his desperation to hide her in his monochromatic fur. the smoke would then attempt to give quick, short licks over quiet’s ear, working at the smell of rusting blood that clings to her soft pelt, “ who did this to you? “ the ghost of venom clings to his accented vocals, covered only by the gentle lilt of comfort he forces for her sake alone.

icy luminaries drift up towards fox, a silent thanks for retrieving him in time. he would find out who did this — he would take care of it. stars at his side, he would.

out of character information translations

• − CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
  − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
  − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers
  
  
• none.

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[QUIETSTREAM.]

fox's scent is recognized. it's remembered. they hadn't said much to her before but they could remember scents and remember them better than they could remember faces. a sniffle leaves her, as she watches foxy, tail swaying with a small frown. they knew they didn't trust the other but it was better than being out here by themself. she was tempted to reach out for the other, to beckon her to stay, but she is quick to draw back. the calico is gone before they can even muster the courage to speak up, anyways. soon, however, she returns and the familiar scent of a certain tall black tortie makes them tense up. cicada.

without thinking, they run forward into the other's trying to bury themself in his fur. she winces for but a moment, before looking up at the taller tom cat, low purrs vibrating within her coming to an abrupt stop. who? who is the question and even though quiet knows the answer, they dare not say. they know better. she knows exactly the consequences of that. instead, she offers a shake of her head, burying themself once again into his fur.

"i'm tired, papa."

they insist, nudging him with their head. she wants to rest, but not for a moment does she want to be away from him. he is comforting. he is home to her, because despite the brutal death of her birth parents... he is her father. at least, to them he was.
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[ WISH YOU WERE GAY ]​