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.
Kier was in an abandoned tearoom. Its decor was all 18th century opulence turned gangrenous and mildewy: round, polished tables big enough to sit twelve, with lace table cloths rotting where they hung over the edge and floral tea cups on their sides; huge portraits of men in powdered wigs and women with embroidered stomachers, the frames gold and carved with mounds of fruit and the canvases grey with cobwebs; a towering, hundred-paned window spanning the entire length of the back wall, spilling dreary late afternoon light into the long, cavernous room; and there, in the middle, a little black tom tipping over a tea cup to the right way up, raising a brow when it clattered in its dish and leaning down to give it a wrinkle-nosed sniff.
“Well, this place has gone to the dogs,” he muttered to himself, and his voice when alone was the strangest thing you’ve ever heard: a tasting board of every accent he’d picked up and refined, each word spoken in a different one - Scottish, Irish, high-class London, generic American. He tittered in delight at his own genius and leaped down to the floor to inspect the next table, lost among the sea of table cloths and legs.
When he scrabbled onto the next table, his eyes locked with a she-cat’s across the room, at the entrance where the footman would have stood. “Do you have a reservation?” he called in a sort of bored, tired tone, his high voice eerily muffled from such a distance in this graveyard of elitism.
The room, in a strange sort of way, reminded her slightly of home. The size of the window, the way it let in the dying sunlight, the way the table wood was very similar in polish to the pews she would run around on, it all reminded her of that little old church. Though the mansion was much too fancy, even if the holes in the roof and the plants that grew in the cracks of some of the walls were reminiscent, she knew it was a place of much better luxury. It was the little things that always got her thinking about it, and she couldn't tell if she hated or loved it.
In her moment of nostalgia, she didn't notice the little tom at first. And when he spoke, do you have a reservation, eyes locked, she almost ran out terrified. At the first glimpse she got, his fur, his frame, reminded her all too much of her brother, and she feared that maybe he had come back to life too. Instead, she tripped backwards, nearly falling over. Noticing how much of a fool she looked like, she straightened out, stood taller, cleared her throat to try and seem at least a little more naturally. Her brother wasn't quite as ugly, she noted.
"Yes, I do." She answered with a huff, her voice on the higher side, a strange sort of accent that gave away she never really grew up around anybody at all, like it was her very own peculiar little voice. She looked around, attempting to figure out why she was here in the first place again. Her eyes fell to the teacups — right! She remembered, glass was sharp, good for making precise cuts and she was sick of using old stones. And the table clothes would be good for carrying things.
"Now if you do not mind, I would like my privacy." She glared at the tom, who wasn't much bigger than herself. Eris padded, nose in the air as a display of her own superiority, towards the table and climbed onto the nearest chair, then onto the space just opposite of him. The teacups were delicate little things, thin handles and rimmed edges. She hardly cared for their beauty, though she did admire the design briefly before suddenly tipping one over the edge, sending a saucer just after it. The room was filled with it's shattering.
Kier watched her approach with a surprised, disbelieving sort of expression - he’d been expecting some brand of fear, or perhaps a malicious snap at him; to have her just totter over to him with her chin up had floored him. When she made the pointed jab about wanting privacy, Kier made no move to obey; indeed he acted like he hadn’t heard her at all, just standing where he was and watching her first leap up to the chair (his head jerked up a little to keep at eye level), then the table (a little more), then send the cup and saucer smashing to the floor. He wandered over to the edge of the table, the two cats still separated by a large, dead floral centrepiece that was more dust than flowers, and leaned out over it, looking down at the fragments of chinaware.
“Privacy to do what, exactly?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. His permanently blown left pupil grew even larger in the half-light as he looked at her, the other one expanding as well. “Smash cups? Is that what you she-cats do for amusement?” A nasty, slimy little smile grew on his face, turning his eyes to slits. His voice changed as well, becoming… wetter. “I thought you were supposed to be nurturing.”
One day a woman was going to hit him, and maybe that was precisely what he needed.
“And I thought you were supposed to be suckling at your mother, rat.” He seemed younger than her, an annoying little trainee who thought himself privy to everyone’s business. Erie didn’t give him a second glance, though made an exasperated sort of sound as she realized he wasn’t listening to her commands, instead hopping back into the chair and the ground beneath it. She examined the glass pieces, being careful not to catch any shards, until she found a relatively nice piece. It was most of the saucer she had thrown, a nice edge to it, and while the glass was rather thin she assumed it would work well enough. Though she could try and make it a little thicker by attacking multiple pieces into one, whittling it down to her liking.
“Now shut your mouth before I sew it shut for you, it’s none of your business.” this time she did look at him. Right in his face, her lip curled because he was by far the most annoying specimen she had ever come across. But she couldn’t deny the little intrigue — like how he spoke with a mix of everything, the way his left eye was noticeable more dilated than his right, but he didn’t appear concussed. She looked away before he could notice her interest. And there was a small, unnoticeable sense of familiarity between them. They were both small, weak, obsessive individuals, each in terrible health and a knack for thinking themselves better, and there was the chance that maybe that was what they both needed, someone who lived with a brain as sick as their own, could understand. That depended, though, on if they could even have a chance to talk without ripping each other to shreds.
Kier’s lips stretched into a wide grin, his eyes sparking with delight. It was such a rare expression to see on him - no one surprised him: his siblings walked all over him, but that was expected; his mother disdained him; his father pitied him or feared him, when he thought of him at all; his uncle was so sickeningly forgiving; but they were all just acting out their scripts. You make me sick, Kier; yes, yes, what else was new. So few could catch him off guard enough to make him grin - truly grin, instead of just whipping one on like someone holding a masquerade ball mask up to their face.
“She won’t let me,” he replied, purposely disgusting, his voice so proudly sneering as he leaned in closer to her. The grin stayed on his face as she leaped down to the floor, padding back over to the edge of the table to look down at her. Now shut your mouth before I sew it shut for you. A little shiver ran through his body, making his tail bush slightly. “Promise?” he asked obnoxiously, dropping down right on top of her broken saucers. But when she looked away, she didn’t look away fast enough - he caught her staring. “What, this?” he asked, holding his paw up to his own eye. “I’ve always had it. But I didn’t know until my sister said, ‘what the hell is wrong with your eye?’” His mimicry of Kate was startling - it was like a she-cat’s voice was suddenly coming from his mouth, perfect in tone and inflection.
Like it was nothing, Kier wandered over to the speckled mirror on one wall and swept his paw over the fur between his ears in front of it, smiling thinly at his reflection; he clearly liked what he saw. He leaned in, blinking once and looking at his own pupil. Drawing his paw up, he unsheathed his claws and crept one in closer to his eye; when the pupil stayed the same, he grinned and spun around with a flourish, waltzing back over to Eris. “Do you like it, my dear? As far as deformities go, I find it quite unique - oh, a missing eye, a pretty scar,” slinking around her, he whisked up a paw and brushed it against the scar over her mouth, snapping it away again before she could slap him, “they’re all a dime a dozen. But something just that little bit wrong?” His voice squeaked slightly on ‘little’ before dropping again to a low purr as he leaned in again. “Enough to make you lean in and wonder, is it really not moving?” His eyes widened on ‘really’; they settled back to the smug, half-lidded look they always had a heartbeat later. “Now that’s enticing.”
His smile was unnerving by the way it seemed so unnatural on a face like his, and though Eris was familiar with her own brand of false, off-putting expressions, she wasn't immune to them being used on her. In her old life, her family was the type who would have been straight-faced for photos if could have had them, the ones where a smile was rare, and when she had grown into the habit of slight smiles and thinly veiled laugher whenever she got in trouble — not because of any sort of glee, just a way to trick herself into being a bit happier, to drive away the stress — they were seen especially as threats, just the very nature of them. Now, she wanted to wipe it off his face. She hissed at him instead.
She won’t let me, what a poor, relatable soul, she scoffed. Was she supposed to feel bad for him? Her own mother had been dismissive herself and she turned out just fine enough. She tried to ignore him instead, hated the way his eyes dug into her skin, made her feel like bugs were crawling all over her. She tried to sort the pieces of glass, carefully enough to not cut herself, to see which ones could be tied together to make something a little sturdier.
When he moved closer, she had half the mind to shove him away. Every time he got a little too close, she moved away, ears flattening in disgust. He was the opposite to her in the fact that he would get so up and personal with someone, lock eyes, pick them apart simply by looking into them; she was the one who missed it all, spent so much time alone that she had no idea what to do around other cats so she avoided them, hated the thought of people seeing through her. And maybe that was why the tom was so unsettling. She frantically rubbed her face where he had touched it, though she did lift her paw to look at the thin scar along it, made from a window quite similar to the one in the tearoom.
"Yes, but maybe find someone who is actually interested," the last word held a growl to it, and it was the only time she would have leaned her head anywhere close to his, just to drive the point in.
Eris moved away, finally, hopping back onto the table and examining the fancy clothes that lay atop, attempting to find the cleanest one, even if they were all a little dirty.
When she hissed at him, Kier jerked his head back and picked his forepaw up like she was a snake who’d struck out at him, a grin immediately spreading across his face; his head dropped down a moment later, lower than his shoulders and with the dark grin still intact. And when she leaped back up onto the table, he went with her. With the changeability of this dreary autumn, rain began to beat down against the roof, lashing against the huge window and casting grey, speckling light over the vast room. The long shadows of rain drops slid down the walls.
“What precisely are you doing?” he asked, lying down neatly exactly where she was trying to work. Reaching out a paw, he knocked the lid off a little flowery sugar dish and dipped it inside, drawing it back out to lick the old sugar crusted to his black fur without any hesitancy; as much of a neat freak as he was, he always dove head first into new sensory experiences, especially ones involving taste. Raising his brows in silent distaste, he wiped his paw on one of the bits of fabric Eris was trying to salvage, opening and closing his mouth like he couldn’t quite work out whether it was pleasant or awful or just disappointing. The dark shadows of rain slithered down his body and made his silver eyes look hollowed out, like he was some creature from a black and white movie where colour didn’t exist. “If you were serious about not wanting to talk to me, my dear, the door’s right there.” He gestured his paw limply to the entry hall, rolling the ‘r’ in ‘right.’ “Call it ungentlemanly, but I was here first. Do you have a name? Or have they given up naming the weaker sex?” Smiling lazily at her, he rested his chin on his forepaw held in the air. “Pardon me - fairer. I always do get the two so terribly muddled.”
She slapped the sugar dish onto the floor, though she knew she wouldn't be touching its glass, the act was more out of annoyance. What precisely are you doing? "If you must ask," she moved past him, deliberately stamping a foot on his tail, "I'm collecting." Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She felt offended at the very thought that the tom suggested an explanation, like he had any right to what she did with her time. Before he could soil anything else, she pulled out the next best looking cloth and rolled it up, sneezing a few times at the dust that fell off it. She attempted to ignore him again, tried to go back to her business, hoped down without a chair this time and placed the fabric just beside her glass, laying it out neatly and piling the pieces she picked onto it.
The next time he spoke, Eris whirled to face him, moving the biggest shard just under her paw, as if securing it. "I will cut you to pieces." She knew he would respond the same he had responded to all his threats — he enjoyed them like the sick freak he was — but she didn't care. She wanted nothing more than to see him bleed, or shake, or bed for some sort of forgiveness because she would be the one making him. He was certainly nobody to talk about being weaker. She knew people who were so insecure about themselves spoke like that to others, to make them believe it, she had been told it all her life to know the fact wasn't true. She very much wasn't weak.
She did decide to respond to his question, her words bitten, "Eris." Her teeth grit, ground against each other. "And I will be taking my leave shortly, but I don't see your name on the room. Whatever it may be." Her own way of asking, and she specifically wanted to know so she could ignore it, ask again later 'oh, what was your name again. . . let me think, oh I forgot!' Just so he could see how much of a waste of time he really was to her.
He whipped his head to the side to watch the sugar dish fly through the air and then smash on the ground, letting out an admiring little “whoo!” No bit of crockery was safe from his wonderful little companion. “Collecting what?” he asked, pushing himself to his paws and following her down to the floor. “Broken saucers,” he nudged the bits contemptuously with one paw like they were unappetising, “bits of dirty cloth,” he looked up at her, eyes bright, “are you one of those she-cats that can’t have children so you’re making some sort of horrible little doll to cuddle up to? If not,” his eyes looked her up and down, judging her age, and he clicked his tongue, tilting his head with a crooked grin, “tick tock.”
When she whirled around to face him, Kier scuttled backwards, tripping over the shards of chinaware and glass until a jarring cacophony filled the tearoom. But he never lost his footing; he just hopped back in-step in a fluid motion that spoke of being pushed around all his life and padded in a half-circle back to her, skirting around the broken pieces. “I don’t doubt it,” he replied, and it was as close to a compliment as he’d ever given a she-cat, not counting all the slimy, insincere fawning. “I think I’m about the only thing you could kill, my dear.” That wasn’t an insult either - it was still a compliment, acknowledging that she very likely did have the upper hand.
Stopping close in front of her, he crouched then lay down, scooping up a perfectly sharp shard of porcelain and holding it up for her with it balanced on his paw pads. “Kier,” he replied, smiling up at her through dark, hooded, interested eyes. Taking it would be like entering into a partnership with the devil.
"What makes you think I want any sort of spawn?" She spat the words like poison; the idea itself made her cringe inwards. "Make your own doll, maybe it'll help with your issues."
I don’t doubt it. She let out a noise of satisfaction, "Good." She went back to piling the chosen pieces of glass onto the table cloth, carefully arranging them so the largest was at the bottom. Finished, she examined it carefully — not a piece should be missing or out of place, she did not want to waste them, and she wanted every bit she could get. But one was, and while furiously looking around her, moving other bits of glass around as if it would be under it, she finally came face with his paw, holding the exact shape she was looking for. With a grumbled thanks she took it back, placed it where it was meant to go after another moment of rearranging.
"Kier." Like she was testing it out, "K-ear.Kay-er." Eris took the corners of the cloth, lined it up, so when she picked it up they would all fall neatly and safely into the middle and there would be no way for them to fall. Unless it broke, but she would have to worry about that later. When she lifted it, a little unsteady at first, she didn't bother to give much of a goodbye — a lazy wave of her tail and not much else.
“I-hi don’t think anything could help my issues,” Kier replied around a lazy grin, laughing half-way through ‘I’.
He watched with a thin, pleased smile as she took the shard from him and arranged it with the others, keeping his paw floating in the air for a while before finally curling his toes in and laying it down in front of him. His sprawl was messy, with none of the neatness one might expect from him; his tail was forgotten, his forepaws at an odd angle on either side of his chest, his back paws lying in the spilled sugar. It made the orderly nature of his mind more frightening, seeing how haphazardly he treated his body. Like he had another just waiting to slip into if this one got broken.
When she waved her tail at him, he ignored the obvious farewell and got up, trailing after her until he could fall in step at her side. “Kee-er,” he corrected with slothful, languorous cheer, but it sounded more like he was agreeing. “Eris,” he rolled the ‘r’ again, leaning in closer to her as they walked, “Kier - they’ve got a wonderful sound to them, haven’t they?” Unfortunately for Eris, Kier reached the door first; reaching out a back leg, he clicked it shut so innocently and then, bowing slightly, gestured chivalrously up the staircase, fixing her with a toothy smile. It was a silent stalling tactic; there was another way out upstairs and he’d lead her there - slowly. “You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do with these pieces,” he continued as he began up the narrow, gloomy stairs and emerged from the shadows onto the second floor, dotted with furniture covered with dusty, grey-white sheets. “Not a doll, I assume not a pretty little mosaic. What are you going to do,” a laugh bubbled out of him, “surgery?”
She hummed in annoyance, though she hadn't listened at all, the words seemed to have passed right over her head. She wasn't going to be using his name often, she hardly cared to get it right. She nearly ran into the door just as it clicked shut, stopping herself as her nose was a mere centimeter away. A low, irritable growl sounded in her throat, though it was not at all intimidating. Reluctantly, she made her way towards the stairs instead, even though she was looking to get out of the building, towards her space, the cleverly dubbed 'Eris' Space of Solitude.' because it was hers and nobody was allowed to meddle in it uninvited. She seemed to have taken Eshek's old words of evil labs seriously, though she'd hardly call it a lab.
Surgery? "Obviously." Her voice was muffled by the cloth in her mouth. Though it sounded sarcastic, there was no hint of a lie, she was planning to use it for surgery — her need to know more, her thirst for knowledge in the most gruesome sense, would not be satisficed yet, not for a long time. She gave Kier another look, a lasting glance, her eyebrow raised a little in thought. Maybe he was stupid enough to follow along, unfortunate enough to have a sudden, fatal accident, and it just so happened that Eris would have run into his body, not knowing who he was, and needed a place to test her new tools. Who was she to know. He could have fallen through a window, or hit his head a little too hard, or been attacked by some wild animal, or maybe died under mysterious circumstances. She could let her rats, the few she kept in her little lab in a rusted old bird cage she found, feast on his flesh until she could get a good look at his bones.
"Obviously?" Kier echoed, high and incredulous, leaning his head back as he frowned at her. "What do you mean, obviously? You're serious? You're doing surgery?" He waved his paw at her, leaning in slightly closer and frowning deeper until his eyes were just narrow slits. "You?"
Once the disbelief melted away, he was left utterly enamoured - he'd never met a she-cat worth the time of day, never met one who didn't, when you peered deep enough, carry around the predictable little fragility of wanting to settle down, to start a family. But Eris - he could tell she was genuine, like he kept trying to peel back layer after layer after layer and all he kept finding was a single-minded fixation to some quiet, macabre endeavour. And not like his mother; whether or not it was actually true, and it almost certainly wasn't, he'd convinced himself that Rhiannon secretly wanted to be subjugated, that her obsessive search for eternal life was just rebellious acting out until someone worthy came along to soothe her. Was he clever enough to work out he was actually describing himself, that that was what he wanted? No.
Kier's eyes were wide and joyful and admiring, like a Victorian faced with some wonderful new invention that coughed steam and made horrible whirring noises. "You - well, who taught you? Are you a doctor - do patients come to you - or are you of the darker variety?" He saw her raised brow and let out a disbelieving, delighted sort of laugh, like a lion had just launched itself at him and been thwarted by the rattling bars between them. "Have you been planning to kill me? Oh, this is excellent. What a lovely, splendid turn of events! And what a fight that would be! Who would win? I honestly don't know." He'd turned away and was wandering over to the piano covered in a white sheet, his voice that smiling, easy, breathless sort of pleased. Kier jumped up onto the bench and touched his paw to one of the keys, playing a single, high-pitched note that squealed through the ruined room. His eyes and smile never left her. "I can't tell you how delightful I find this. You really are an anomaly."
"Yes." She would have hissed had she been able too. Why wouldn't it be obvious? What else would a cat specifically need random shards of glass if they were not going to cut something open with it? Yes, her! Who else would have such genius? Was what she would have set, had she not been carrying something as delicate as glass. With Eris, she didn't know of her inner wanting for a family, a companion of some sort, because she hadn't quite realized her own inner loneliness, the one that was eating her alive. Perhaps it was her fixation on her projects, 'I'll stop when I achieve this' but the achievement was impossible, so there would never be an end. For now, she pushed away any attempt at kindness, fought her way out of affection and friendship, locked her metaphorical study door and shut the blinds of her life.
As they reached the top of the stairs, she stopped to catch her breath, gently placed the shards down and let the cloth fold on top of it. Her face settled into one of superiority, obviously adoring the way Kier looked at her with such awe.
She snorted, "who taught me? I don't need anyone to teach me. I know what I'm doing." And then he was eyeing her again, with that same disgusting studying look, like he could ready her thoughts. Her gaze followed him, her frown returning.
Have you been planning to kill me? "No!" She spat, like she was a child who had hit their sibling and didn't want to get in trouble. It was strange, to have the way she spoke and thought about others being directed towards her instead. She couldn't figure the tom out, because there was so much and so little going on with him. They were the result of facing two mirrors towards each other, a endless pit of reflection. Eris rolled her eyes, "I'll be on my way. Without you." She picked up the cloth again, just as clumsy as before, and looked around for the nearest exit. Really, was wasn't well versed with the mansion — spent most of her time outside, alone, she hardly came in the even sleep. She didn't like the environment of it, though she was a little curious to the darker parts of the place. But she resigned herself to her solitude, because it was the only thing she was used too. Even if she regretted even choosing a to live with a large group of cats at all, she wasn't just going to leave. Even if cats like Kier made her consider the option just a little more.
“Oh, you’re self-taught?” Kier replied cheerily, unbothered by her attempts to end their conversation. Hopping off the piano bench, he sashayed back over to her and sat down, gesturing cavalierly towards a suite of rooms further into the second floor — tall ceilings, carved fireplaces, more white sheets over the furniture. There was a way out over there. “Me, too.” On those two words, Kier used Eris’ own voice to speak to her, mimicking with eerie perfection her strange accent, her timbre, her inflections or lack thereof - even the way her mouth moved. He smiled, eyes slitted up, for once overtly smug about his own talent.
“You don’t get out much, do you?” he asked in his own voice - or, well, one of them. “Not terribly socially adept. Such defensive violence. I’m not going to hurt you. But that’s not what you’re afraid of, is it?” He leaned in, his eyes widening like a snake’s. “You’re scared all you’re doing will be for nothing. No recognition, no adulation, no break-though. Just here lies Eris,” he leaned back, “such a desperate thing.” His voice took on a merrily provocative quality. “Hope— no, not hope. It tastes too cold to be that… Not hunger either — this isn’t ambition. What is it? Oh…” He leaned in closer, a smile spreading across his face that was smeared with sadism, yes, but that dripped mostly with a deep recognition. “Fear.”
He would never usually speak to anyone like this. He’d pick up on which Kier they wanted - the sweet one, the shy one, the obedient one - and go from there. Now, though, it was like he’d seen some aura of kinship around Eris; he wasn’t mocking her, wasn’t teasing — he was joyful beyond measure, like his chest had been hollowed out and filled with relief pure as illicit white powder, pure as ice, as glass. His silver eyes didn’t leave hers, their pupils melting into each other like ink.
She stalked towards the rooms, nose twitching at the dust, ears flattening as he simply continued, despite the fact she had explicitly told him multiple times to leave her alone. Once again, she attempted to ignore him, tried finding her own way out while also following his lead (though she wouldn't admit to it — she knew her way around, of course!).
Me, too. She paused, eyes flicking around the room like he was some haunting spirit instead of a living, breathing thing. It was unnatural, the type of uncanny that made her skin crawl, but she tried not to let her unsettlement show. Eris wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"I don't sound like that." She hissed around the cloth, keeping her tone steady. It was something she'd practiced all her life, though she wished she put more effort into areas other than her voice. She peered into one of the old rooms, noting no exit and moving onto the next. Damn thing was like a maze, no wonder she didn't venture too far into the mansion.
You don’t get out much, do you? Her ears flattened. Not terribly socially adept. Her footsteps quickened. But that’s not what you’re afraid of, is it? A low growl rumbled in her throat, hardly a threatening sound. She dropped the shards with a little more force than necessary, though they did not break, and turned to face Kier with a newfound anger. Not just irritation; an ugly mix of desperation, fear, of knowing he spoke the truth but not wanting to accept it, not from him. She was crouched, tail bushed, charged and barreled into him. In a rough tumble of their lanky limbs, her paws met his shoulders, pushing his back to the cold floor. Neither of them were very strong, Eris knew she wouldn't have been able to pull that off with nearly anyone else, and partly it was why she did it. Just to see what it was like, for a moment, to be stronger than someone.
She was close enough that he could hear the weak rasp in her throat. She knew she couldn't scare him, but still her claws dug into skin where they held him down. "Who do you think you are," she growled, "to come to me with this nonsense, like you think you know something. Let me tell you, you stupid, gross little rodent, you don't know a goddamn thing! Hear!" She pushed more. "I'm sick of you following me around, I've told you multiple times. If I tell you again I will kill you where I stand, pick your body apart, feed you to my rats, and leave the rest of you out to rot. Do you understand?" She lifted her head.
Kier laughed the entire time she barrelled him over and manhandled him into submission against the floorboards, a truly delighted sound. As she spat down in his face, he smiled up at her, his eyes hooded and his cheeks pushed up. His shoulders ached against the floor; he didn’t mind. He’d been in this position plenty of times with his brother and sister; he learned very young not to struggle, to just enjoy the ride. “Ooh!” he shivered deliberately with a little titter when her claws dug in, tickling his skin. It was so funny, the way everyone constantly called him rat, rodent, vermin, like they weren’t his greatest phobia on Earth. Oh, what wicked irony!
“Gross little rodent?” he replied, voice thick with bubbling laughter. “And what are you, dear? A cute little mouse? Thin line, there. Oughtn’t we two little rats to stick together?” Snaking his paw out from beneath her, he tapped one claw to her nose. “No, mousey, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Can you tell me again?” His smile grew, cheeks pushing up. “I can be so terribly slow sometimes. And I quite like it down here - you’re very warm.” Playing with fire, because he never could not, he brushed the back of his paw against her cheek, grinning up at her.
He continued more genuinely, no longer touching her. “Come on, Eris - I think we could be friends. You and me. I’ve never met a she-cat who isn’t a complete,” mouth open to say something sick and degrading, he remembered he was speaking to one of them and, eyes slitting slightly, amended, “forgive me. My point is, you and I work well by ourselves - but together, imagine! Two very neat little rodents. Any…” He twirled his paw in the air, glancing to the side like he truly couldn’t think of the word. “Rules you want to set, set them. I’ll abide. I’ve just never met anyone like you!” His voice was truly admiring; he had to stop himself from gripping her shoulders in his passion.
She despised his look of glee, his delighted laugh, the fact that he didn't care that she could sink her teeth into his neck any moment (though Eris knew she never would, as much as tried to convince herself she could). She moved her head to avoid his touch, eyes narrowing as he simply continued talking. He was supposed to be scared. Finally, her paws lifted from his shoulders, she moved away in one swift motion, sat with her back turned to him.
I’ve just never met anyone like you! She mulled over the words. Obviously he hadn't, she was Eris and nobody else was her, but he spoke with such admiration, like she was the most interesting thing in the world, and nobody had ever offered her that before. She supposed he was just as interesting, his surprising wit and charm could even come in use.
"Friend? I wouldn't say that." She turned her head to look at him again, sizing him up. "But fine. Keep your paws off me, don't get in my way too much." Though her words held reluctance, she knew she never would have denied such an offer. Loneliness did tend to creep up, and anything that could help it, even a little bit, was lapped up. Eris would never admit such a thing — she needed herself and herself only, nobody else could offer anything more. Perhaps it was for the reason that she had never been able to rely on anyone else, and that was their kinship. Nobody for them, nobody quite against them.
"What makes you think that I need you?" She turned, but kept her distance.
When Eris moved away and let him up, Kier stayed on the ground, moving only to push his upper half up into a vaguely paint me like one of your French girls position as he watched her. He was delighted by her assent - absolutely downright delighted, cross his heart and hope to die - but even so he couldn’t stop himself from replying slyly, “yet” at I wouldn’t say that. When she continued, truly agreeing, he scrambled up into a sitting position, an open-mouthed, wide eyed grin on his face. “Oh, but this is excellent news!” he cried. He nodded vigorously at her rules, raising one forepaw and then laying it upon his heart. “Thou art my shepherd,” he replied sagely, sombrely, his head bowed and his eyes downcast, “and I am but a humble rodent.”
At her question, his head snapped up and he trotted over to her, sitting down at a closer distance. He wasn’t touching, and she hadn’t specified physical boundaries, so he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Weell,” he replied happily, “I’m a psychopath with narcissistic personality disorder, an oral fixation and a suspicious obsession with my mother! Every friend group needs one of those. And look at that self-awareness! I don’t suppose you meet many violent nutcases who know precisely what they are. I’m an oddity, and a charming one.” He was cheerfully interviewing for a job position. “I can do all sorts of wonderful voices,” he switched to Eris’, “including yours,” he switched back, “and I’m utterly unscrupulous. I’ve tortured kittens and I’m actively plotting my brother’s death. So, my dear Eris, I think you and I could be something even greater than friends - partners in crime. I kill ‘em, you gut ‘em - or whatever it is you do with those clever little paws of yours.” He leaned in closer, frowning. “Is that allowed? Sycophantic flattering? I’m very used to doing it but I can stop. Or amp it up!” His voice suddenly grew louder, his gaze sweeping up and down her appraisingly. “My, Eris, don’t you look fine, my twisted little doctor!”
"Sure." She grimaced, as if the very thought of having Kier as a friend was painful. Just as he settled next to her, she got up and moved to where she left her shards abandoned, fixing the corners for easy pickup. She still had places to be. I’ve tortured kittens and I’m actively plotting my brother’s death. To most others, such confessions would have been viewed with disgust, but Eris looked at him with interest, contemplation, a newfound regard. He could do the dirty work, the stuff she couldn't stand to do but could put up with seeing.
Eris gave him another narrow-eyed look, acting like she was still contemplating her decision, but her mind was made. "You can help me, then." She hummed, "I'm on a search for something. See, I met a few peculiar cats a while back. They said they came back to life — have you ever heard of such a thing?" She gave a sharp laugh, "I want to recreate it, Kier. If I solve death just like that, I can solve anything! Do you know how much power that is?" She picked up the cloth again, turning carefully towards the tom and wordlessly directing him to lead the way.
"I just haven't been able to figure out how — that's my first step." She had immediately taken to being the leader, the brains, her view on Kier shifting from an annoying pest to a useful lackey, as if he hadn't the brains to be anything else.
