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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Cleaver <3 you didn’t give me a firm no and that was your first mistake
It totally wasn’t fair that his sister had married into such a hot family. Like, yeah, they were Eeries, they were crazy — but from where Weevilspike was standing, crazy was the best thing a guy could be aside from buff and stupid. Which also presented a problem, because his brother-in-law was stupid, and his brother-in-law’s brother was buff — so like, what’s up with that, y’know? What, the gods said ‘we’re gonna divide everything up to make this family the single most mouthwatering thing on the planet?’ Like, hello? And they were right there. Just across the border. And his sister was married to one of them. Out of all the families she could have chosen for political expediency, it had to be the one where everyone at the extended family get-togethers would be a tasting platter of hunk. Weevilspike was gonna go nuts; he could already hardly sleep as it was, just tossing and turning in Sunstar’s den he crashed in most nights, his dreams haunted by handsome toms with crystals hanging round their brows.
Of course, Wintrystar would never allow any more of her sons to go to the new, unestablished royal family. And, obviously, he was wasting his time anyway — the only tom left had been engaged to a she-cat (Weevilspike had done his digging) so he clearly wasn’t interested in toms. But still… He almost whined aloud, just like at his sister’s wedding.
And so, so as not to disturb the sleep his sister desperately needed and that she’d only just managed to slip into, he stood from where she’d unconsciously pushed him out of the nest and left him drumming his claws quietly, indecisively, on the den floor and staring at the beech tree wall, and slunk out into the clearing. It was just before dawn and the camp was empty, the sky just beginning to grey and the world filled with cold, fresh air and the first strains of birdsong. Despite its wintery beauty, Weevilspike didn’t dwell on it; this time of morning was still too raw, too reminiscent of what would have been curfew time under NightClan’s authority. So, with cheerful determination, he pushed it wilfully aside and trotted out of the frosty, wilted camp entrance. When he got to the WinterClan border, he wasted no time in flagging down the first dawn patrol and, with princely charm, a complete lack of self-consciousness, and unwavering grins, asking for Deathreign to be sent down. By the time the patrol left, they were wearing bewildered smiles like they’d been brainwashed. It wasn’t like it was especially rule-breaking; they were family now, nothing like the sad mess he’d heard about with Wintrystar’s daughter.
Pleased with the outcome, Weevilspike flopped down on his stomach and waited. He took what he wanted, did what he wanted, had always been one half of the golden siblings of SummerClan; his sister was the one to arrange the banquet, but he was the one to follow along behind her and pick all the best things from the buffet before everyone distracted by her rousing speeches could get a chance. And even if Reapingnight’s brother was straight, he could still get a kick out of flustering the cute token heterosexual, right? Maybe that would alleviate some of his spoiled frustration. Whenever he felt down, that sort of thing usually perked his spirits back up.
“—gray and kinda wimpy looking but in a cute way—“
“— he’s on the border waiting for you—“
“—part of the new family, ooh you're so lucky—“
“—I don’t think he was that cute honestly—“
“— so go fetch him.“
“I’ll go with you if you need some company,” Limelight offered sweetly, stepping up to brush against his side.
The knight disentangled himself from her, muttering something about Knight Business and privacy and going alone, and bundled himself out of the camp before the flustered warrior could respond. Ever since she started looking for a mate again, she’d become insatiable, and he was lucky for any excuse to avoid her. He blamed his brother. Reapingnight’s wedding meant he was the only cat in the family that wasn’t married — besides the kits — and he was feeling the pressure.
Still, he wouldn’t want to be in his brother’s place, married to an enemy she-cat. Deathreign was lucky that his Knightship had been enough to avoid that one.
His fur fluffed up as he wove down the icy mountain.
When he stepped into sight of Weevilspike, he glanced him up and down with one swift, purposefully disdainful look. He wasn’t sure why they were here, so he would give nothing away. Cold, implacable, his chest barely moved to betray his breath. He was stone. He was cool.
The Knight was cold but he was supposed to be cool too.
At Deathreign’s whaddup a big grin spread slowly across Weevilspike’s face. It stayed there as his brother-in-law — was his sister’s husband’s brother his brother-in-law? He supposed so; there really should be more words for these things — readjusted his tact. “Oh, c’mon!” he chided cheerily, “we’re family! Clearly mine’s the better looking side but still, no need to be so reserved. We’re gonna share nieces and nephews soon, probably, if Sun doesn’t eat them. We gotta get to know each other! Your brother hates me, your mom was lookin’ at me at the wedding like she wanted to season her broth with my tender spleen, your sisters scare me, even the littler one — you’re the only one left who isn’t, no offence, totally…” How did he put this delicately? “Evil,” he finished a little sheepishly, ducking his head slightly and letting out a little apologetic titter of breath through his teeth.
He padded closer, still not crossing the border; only the tips of his forepaws lay across it. Eyes never leaving Deathreign’s, he tilted his head, his grin changing into a wide smile that looked more earnestly hopeful than anything. “I was hopin’ we could do something together — y’know, hang out. Like… bros!” He reached across the border to bump Deathreign in the shoulder with one paw, his smile becoming sheepish again and his ears drifting back slightly. Weevilspike was never embarrassed, never out of his depth, never eager to please, never shy, but now he was a little. He wanted Deathreign to like him, wanted to win this challenge that he had become unexpectedly meek about. In such a large tom as Weevilspike, all unruly fur and bright amber eyes and confidently handsome face, bashfulness, the way his shoulders hunched a little apologetically to try unsuccessfully to make him look smaller, looked slightly silly. He was always the life of the party, the charismatic goofball; now he was laying that all at the paws of a cold, glaring Knight for his approval, pushing it slightly closer like he was sliding his resumé across a desk and giving him a mousy sort of grin.
His eyes narrowed at the grin on Weevilspike's face, sensing he had walked straight into a trap. It was too late to get out now, so he set his jaw and prepared to bear it, yet he was still caught off guard once the warrior opened his mouth and started rattling off things. Nonsense. Some sort of insult about his looks, a jibe about eating kits -- was that a reference to Deathreign's mother, or was there something seriously, deeply wrong with his brother's new wife? he wouldn't put it past Reapingnight to pick an evil she-cat to be his bride and impress their mother -- and an accurate assessment of his family's vitriol toward SummerClan cats and their new family. He was lucky the SummerClan cat was running his mouth so quickly because he did not know which insult to respond to first, until 'you're the only one left who isn't, no offense, totally evil.'
No offense, your family is evil? No offense, but you aren't?
Deathreign growled a warning as Weevilspike moved closer, but the knight refused to move an inch, letting the ice in his eyes do the talking for him. The warrior wasn't just an enemy, an outsider, he was worse than that, he was family now, and Pomegranatedecay would skin a pile of kits before his eyes if he dared mess this up now. There was no slipping up, no letting his guard down when the news could get back to his family, even if-- Borealis, did Weevilspike have to look at him like that?
The Knight said nothing, but his back teeth ground, as if he was physically chewing on the thought. His gaze fixed in a point past Weevilspike's head, casually disinterested or bored or some other emotion he could not bother to pin down, as long as it successfully indicated he was not excited about this day, rather annoyed really, and only considering it specifically he had been commanded to play nice. Play nice, he could do that, but it was a dangerous game to get the tone right after he'd already slipped up once, so he turned his cold gaze back onto the warrior and replied flatly,
"Fine."
And he raised one dark, snow-crusted paw to gesture onward, a lead the way, let's go already and get this over with.
