Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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'If you wait until you're ready, you'll be waiting for your entire life.'
The snow that covered the territory made her feel like she was lost in the foam of a grey sea. Above her, a single raven sung its melancholic song, its black wings drifting upon the chilling wind. It landed on a tree of silver bark, intricate branches bare from leaves, perched on top of a snowy hill.
Her charcoal paws unsheathed ivory white claws, making small holes in the frozen dirt. She was cold, but inside she felt... warm. Almost peaceful. The look that passed her glassy eyes was akin to a doll's; emotionless, unmoving, unnerving. It had been a while since she felt so confident, so in control of her surroundings. This newfound freedom made her mind think of such wonderfully horrible actions to do. But, of course, it's not like she was actually going to commit them. At least not yet. No, it seemed that chapter of her life was still unturned, but it didn't matter how she was going to reach; she will, and when she does, nothing will be there to hold her back.
During the warmer months, when some of the snow melted away to expose the jagged rock and fallen needles beneath, he could be stealthy as his name implied. But once the snow fell thick and heavy, the austere dark-furred warrior stuck out, and not even the scattering of white flecks over his shoulders could conceal him. He could mute the sound his pawsteps as he crept across the snow, but he could not keep his large body out of sight, and he had little sight his sister saw him far before he got close to her.
Still, to be sure, he cleared his throat when he was a few paces away from her, and stopped. Silentfortune didn't speak, not yet - his words remained at the back of his throat as he studied her with a flash of his tiny eyes, and he could only guess at her thoughts. He was hard to read, but usually because he had nothing to say. He could not say why he struggled so much with his sister, but the glassy look in her eye made him wary. "Everything alright?"
The sudden intrusion of her thoughts made her almost jump. The clear, emotionless look in her eyes evaporated and her fur stood on edge. If only for a second, Imperialwaste's claws unsheathed violently, a growl forming in her throat.
While this was something she'd never admit to, Imperialwaste had been feeling almost haunted by the death, or rather murder, of her parents. She lived better than she ever had before when they were alive. It wasn't guilt nor regret, as killing them was and still is the one thing in her life she's still proud of. But it was the fear that she'd be condemned in a dark, demented land where only the cruel killers and thieves and arsonists were banished to; that their ghosts would awaken from their slumber and drive her mad for the rest of her life. It was a disease, a plague, a burden she carried on her shoulders. Killing them had only made her more deranged, more sensitive, more on edge than ever before. The thought of being so cruel scared her immensely.
Her large pupils dilated to thin slits, and her spiked fur relaxed on her muscles. Her delirious state of mind made it difficult to recognize others easily, but it's not like it was too difficult when it was Silentfortune. Her only sibling that she felt truly understood her.
Her quivering tail curled around her paws. "Y-yeah," She stuttered awkwardly.
Once, the death of their family had troubled him, but it had passed. He held no guilt of their death, no knowledge of who had dealt the blow, and he eventually had accepted that they were gone and weren't coming back. Whether that was better for the clan or not, he had given up asking; he was simply not deep enough to come to a conclusion about that. What he did know was that it had shaken his sister far more, perhaps because they had such a difficult relationship, and she hadn't been quite the same since. She had never been quite right, but she was even jumpier than before. Maybe she was paranoid the killers weren't quite done yet.
He tilted his head at her reaction, but said nothing, keeping his distance as he waited for her to relax and see who it was. "Alright," he murmured, keeping the doubt in his voice, so she knew he didn't believe her. He stepped closer and sat down at her side, studying the holes in the snow her claws had left. "So you're not angry?"
Imperialwaste swallowed the lump in her throat. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice taunted her, told her that he didn't believe her. She pushed it back, but it kept aggressively coming back, her head buzzing with horrible thoughts. She struggled to keep tears back in her eyes, looking up at the bleak white sky and staring at it for as long as she could hold it.
Her impatience within herself grew. Why was she destined to live like this? What had she ever done to deserve this? Would she ever be the same? The same bumbling, happy girl she once was? Who's now a dead body rotting in her memories? One side of her wished it with every bone in her body, but the other side would rather stay in the present; her growing confidence was exhilarating. Sometimes it felt like the most wonderful adrenaline rush, and other times like she was drowning, her throat pierced by glass, her sanity within painful reach, but not quite there.
"I'm ...not." She frowned to herself. "I'm not angry."
"Not angry. Got it." He was quiet for a moment more, studying her. His features were hard and sharp-edged, etched from the hardest stone, and it made him look even older than he was. A fool might all his look wise, though he wouldn't go that far. His gaze was critical as it swept over her again, then past her, to take in their surroundings.
He struck the ground with a forepaw, hard, making a deep dent in the snow. A low, frustrated rumble echoed in his jaws, and he turned sharply to stare at her again.
"What's the problem then, Imperialwaste? I know you're... in one of your moods, but I can't help you if you don't admit what's going on."
Her eyes turned to slits as she rolled her shoulders back and stared at her brother. She narrowed her gaze and her eyes drained of any suggestion that a person was behind them. She looked over the snowy hills and the turbulent winds moved her fur and she felt the coldness creeping over her.
Imperialwaste turned back to him, a crack of emotion leaking through her ice-cold facade. "Well," she said calmly, "If I have to be completely honest. It's... our parents. I've been thinking of them for some time now." Her voice was whispery and quiet.
Grief, then; or perhaps some of the anger still. Their parents had not always been the most understanding of her choices, he knew. Silentfortune suppressed a sigh. "They're gone now," he reminded her, gently. "Put your feud to rest with them." He hesitated, then reached out with one large paw, resting it on top of hers. "You can't change the past, but you can forget it. Move on."
His words played out in her mind. He was right, if she had to be honest. The hand of death should not hold you back forever. The past should stay in the past, and you shouldn't dwell on things you can't change. He was right, if he was talking to a normal person.
But Imperialwaste couldn't let it go. She could never be able to forget them or their abuse. It was impossible, but if she had to fake it, she would.
"W-well," her slight stutter got worse as she got more anxious, "I guess you're right. So... we should just drop it."
He listened to the quiver in his voice, and shook his head slowly. You're thick as stone, aren't you, Silentfortune? Hearing the words from her mouth, he realized what terrible advice it was. It wasn't so simple, so easy; he didn't understand much about cats and their emotions, but even he knew that much.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm a damned fool."
He rose to his large paws and stalked back and forth behind her a few paces, his tail whipping the air. He was hot-headed, impatient, reckless; he wasn't a cat to quibble about the deeper meanings of life or help his sister through a situation like this. He preferred an enemy he could sink his claws into, and it frustrated him to no end he couldn't hunt his sister's demons. "We ought to chase them out of the depths of the Dark Forest and shred their pelts, that'll make you feel better."
Her amber eyes turned to stone as she watched him change emotions quickly. Imperialwaste knew her brother could be one-dimensional, but... this? What was he even going to do?
"No, you're not." She desperately tried to calm him down. "How are you going to get to them? That... that makes no sense."
He shrugged her off. "Why not? They're already dead, it's not like they can die again. We can march right in there, give you the resolution you need, and then leave them around and let them rot for the rest of their afterlives."
The black and white molly grew increasingly nervous at his stubbornness. Not only was it a downright ridiculous idea, but his pushing her made her anxiety tick up. "How are you even going to get there?"
He rumbled in frustration. "There must be a way. If the cowards are listening now, they'll come meet us in our dreams," he threatened, glancing toward the sky as he goaded them.
A flicker of relief flashed in her eyes, but she didn't know how to take his response. She shuffled her paws awkwardly beneath her, her tail beating the snow.
