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!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
Bits and pieces of his new home reminded him of his birth place the old Brookclan cave. But at the same time the his new home under the glass garden dome lacked the warmth of the cave. The air was cold and damp. The large black maine coon tom moved through the overgrown grass. Against the dim lighting his black pelt blended with the long grass. His murky orange eyes stared at his surrounds. Because of his vision condition his surrounds appear blurry. The strange smells over powered the Shaman's nose. As he slowly made his way back to where he had set up his nest. His nest was tucked against the roots of the large tree that grew up through the roof of the greehouse. Sinesio knew he needed to focus on his one and only patient, but the constant watch from his guards made the tom only more nervous.
The only patient in the Shaman's den was locked somewhere in the grey between sleeping and waking, where he preferred to spend most of his time. It was easier that way, for when he was asleep he dreamt of the accident, and when he was awake he lived out this nightmare that was now his life. But in between, he lost track of who he was and where he had been. He wasn't an ex-nemesis, he wasn't a blind tomcat, he wasn't fallen from the height of his former glory. He simply was, a nameless soul that existed in the lost expanse of time.
But he woke up, like he always did, raising his mauled face from the nest. He was healing, slowly, and the gashes over his eyes were beginning to scab over. He smelled of herbs and salves constantly, but it was better than the smell of infection, of death.
"What time is it?" Solaris asked in a low mumble.
Deleted
POSTEDJul 4, 2019 16:14:33 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
"Its early morning I believe. The sun hasn't come up yet." Sinesio replied as padded carefully closer to the Pathologist. The Shaman stood beside the other tom. He wondered for a moment if he should check his patient's eyes or let him go back to sleep. "Are you getting enough sleep?" He quietly asked.
Solaris let out a harsh laugh, pushing himself up into a seated position. His body was still muscled, but growing softer from lack of use. "I've slept far too much these past two weeks," he responded, his head turned in the general direction of Sinesio. "How do my eyes look this morning? I still can't see, but I know that's never coming back."
Deleted
POSTEDJul 5, 2019 6:48:40 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
Sinesio had his own trouble with sight. He had been born the runt of his litter and therefore was gifted with a largest amount of health problems. One of those the loss of sight as he aged. While he wasn’t completely blind like Solaris he feared one day he would be. Sinesio moved his face closer to Solaris’s to get a good look at his eyes. “They appear to be healing although a lot slower then I would like them to.” He commented. “Although I should change the dressings so they don’t get gross.” He added as he sat down near the tom.
“Okay.” Solaris sat still as the process of bandage changing began. He felt the usual heaviness of his situation resting on his shoulders, his mind clouded and angry. “At least it’s not infected,” he said, without any level of conviction. It might be better to be dead, than live like this.
Deleted
POSTEDJul 5, 2019 16:42:18 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
He started the painful long process of peeling the bandages off the other tom’s eyes. “How do they feel today?” The Shaman asked laying a clump if old cobwebs aside. Turning to get a better look at Solaris eyes. I’m going to have to take some wet moss to it he thought to himself as he surveyed the herb paste that was on the Pathologist’s eyes.
"Sticky, but kind of dry at the same time," Solaris responded after processing the question and assessing the state of his eyes. The tom wasn't in pain anymore, not physically, but the eternal darkness was getting to him, and he could feel his eyes move though he couldn't see. It was maddening.