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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He remembers the first time he ever learned it was wrong to find boys pretty. Four moons old, not even old enough to be a student — a mother who sneered the name Littlepaw like he was a burden, a mistake, a flight of fancy and a novelty that soon wore off; a kittypet father he never knew, spoken of only in late-night bouts of nostalgia, when the sleet was pouring and the air was dark and icy and he was charming, fun, reckless, and condemned the next morning when the ground had frozen over anew and the sun was weak and watery and he was once again selfish, weak, cruel. He was denied his father’s love, and so he wanted it — and, oh, he got it. And for a moment, it was warm and gentle and tolerant — until he called a tom pretty. And that’s when the fear began. He had been so innocent, so trusting — so stupid to think it was normal, that he was anything but sick and unnatural and diseased. Now, he looks at a tom and he feels ill — with all the things he doesn’t want to feel, and all the lessons his father made sure he would never forget. He can still taste the mouse-bile he’d forced into Littlefawn’s mouth, no matter how much he’d cried and struggled — this, he’d hissed, is the taste I want you to remember when you get those foul thoughts in your head. This is what that sort of love tastes like.
He tries not to look anymore.
He isn’t entirely sure where he is now — as a denkeeper, he’s never been particularly well-exposed to the scents of the other Clans. But he doesn’t want to go home right now, and the further he walks, the less he thinks he’ll ever want to. With a jaw full of feathers and sheep’s wool, he noses his way through a patch of wildflowers tall enough to block out the sky — and almost barrels into two she-cats. Two she-cats. Curled around each other. Two she-cats — curled around each other — purring. The taste of mouse bile floods his mouth, bitter and thick. He lets out a slow breath, voice muffled by the feathers and wool, and stares in horror at the open display of... affection between the two — like they aren’t ashamed, like they aren’t afraid, like they think it’s okay. He’s going to throw up. His heart pounds so hard inside his chest he can hear his rib-cage rattling in his ears like thunder. He can’t be here. He can’t be seen with them. They’re going to be seen — they’re going to—to— “You’re insane,” he hisses through the feathers, and pelts back into the wildflowers.
Post by Honeystorm on Jun 30, 2019 23:37:31 GMT -5
She purred softly, laughing lightly at her companions comments, the sort of laugh that was carefree, that didn't care who might see them. And why should Pyremortality care? The warrior had no reason to fear her time with a she-cat, it made her feel alive in a way toms never had. For so long, she'd wondered why it never clicked, why trying to flirt with toms was a boring thought in her mind, hardly ever a thought in her mind except when one wondered if she had ever thought of settling down and having kits. But after long enough, she'd realized her future had never been envisioned with a male for a mate. The feline had always found she-cats far more beautiful, enchanting and perfect in ways that made her heart just want to burst. Being here, she felt perfectly content. Here in DayClan, cats were anything but what Littlefawn had experienced. They were kind and tolerant, and she never had considered that she'd need to fear her feelings. The only thing she had to fear was the reaction cats had to her based upon her mother Foxstar, and the Priestess' rather... unsavory accomplishments.
So when the tom showed up, looking at them like they were somehow wrong to be who they were, the she-cat paused, lifting her head slightly as curious eyes turned to him, confused by the horror she found there. What was so wrong? It never did occur to her, at least not at this moment, that it was the mere act of being with another she-cat that had set him off. Tilting her head slightly, she looked back at her companion, blinking slowly. "Any idea what that's about?" Whatever it was, Pyremortality felt as though she should check if he was okay. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Littlefawn felt dirty. His skin crawled. His heart hurt — ached, with longing, with want, with— He gulped a shuddery breath and held it inside his lungs until they throbbed. How could they do that, out in the open, like it wasn't some dirty little secret, like it wasn't something to be ashamed of? The fear turned to wild, shivering anger, and that anger tasted as bitter as ash.
Pawsteps disturbed the wildflowers behind him. He spun around, fur bristling and eyes wide, and saw one of the she-cats padding towards him. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, voice strangled and a note too high, "you can't do that in public! Are you out of your mind?" He glanced around, heart thrumming in panicked little bursts, and ducked his head like he was frightened to be seen with her, lowering his voice to a strained hiss, "what if someone sees?"
It was her turn to look at the cat before her like he was insane. Pyremortality tilted her cream tabby and white head, father's yellow-green eyes blinking rapidly. "What are you talking about 'if someone sees?' So what if someone sees me out on a date? Who's going to do anything more than blush and sputter out an apology before scampering off?" Well, besides the tom in front of her, of course, who seemed to be so concerned with what two random she-cats from another clan were doing with their free time.
