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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fox - I saw your signature that said your on an rp break so no pressure on replies. Take your time!
Her paws shifted uneasily as she waited for her audience with Kier, pale eyes glancing over her shoulder and flitting from side to side. The two most prevalent signs of her unease. She would never admit to such though, she would argue her fidgeting was due to her frustration, her aggravation with this new leader and his mouse-brained ideals. Who was he to tell her she couldn't be a warrior, who was he to so boldly declare her place in the world. Her teeth creaked as she clenched them together and dug her claws into the earth.
In truth she ached deep to her very bones, heart shriveled and broken. The queens condolences made her want to scream and others pitying glances made her consider homicide. She did not need their judgement, their nosy looks. Tigerlily had always be called fierce, bold, confident in herself without a hint of hesitation to muscle her way into every situation that caught her interest. All that ruined by her failure to be a mother, her failure to be a mate, and now potentially her failure to even be a warrior anymore.
She refused to cry, she refused to cry for anyone; her last tears for the still little bodies that never got to have a chance at the world. Twins in death together in their journey to the afterlife, leaving their grieving mother behind. Though could she be called a mother when they had never even taken their first breath, what claim did she have on such a title. She needed to leave the nursery, needed to leave the memories hidden away in that warm milk scented den. The longing she felt at the other kits that tumbled around her paws the picture simply missing her own.
(i’ll set this after the plot thread and some other threads i have yet to post so he’s already leader <33)
Kier liked to keep petitioners waiting; he’d done it with Moonblight and now he did it with her. It gave him a nice little power trip, a knowledge that if he failed to show, they would just keep waiting and waiting and waiting, too afraid to leave and certainly too afraid to make themselves comfortable. It was addictive.
“Ah!” he greeted when he finally arrived, hurrying past her to take his usual seat on his stone throne. This time he actually had had matters to attend to; dictatorships didn’t establish themselves, you know. There were dissenters who had to be taken care of, palms that had to be greased, favours that had to be promised or called in, fear that had to be instilled. All very rewarding work. Kier sat down, his shoulders slightly hunched and slouched, utterly relaxed, giving her a perfectly pleasant, welcoming smile. “My dear,” he purred diffidently. “So sorry to keep you waiting. You can imagine the stress I’m under, but I enjoy the work.”
He settled down more comfortably, his smile only growing sweeter. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about? There was something, wasn’t there…? Something I think was quite sad…” He pretended to think, frowning down at the stone and making a big show of it. Then, finally, he gasped softly and looked up at her again, eyes brimming with pity. His voice was slow and sorrowful as he went on. “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry — your kits. Of course, your kits. I’d quite forgotten. Well,” he continued in a gentle, apologetic voice, his expression that same sincere, almost tearful sympathy. He leaned forward slightly, like they truly were equals and he was open to suggestions, to discussion, to compromise. “You understand the dilemma this puts me in. Strictly speaking, you ought to remain in the nursery, where it’s safe. I’d struggle to think of a reason that might not apply to you.” He frowned at her, perfectly, innocently confused. Worried. “You’ve suffered a terrible tragedy, one few can even comprehend. Why on earth should you not stay where you will be comfortable, where you will be cared for — at least until you’re fully recovered?”
The unspoken meaning being that if she spent enough time in there, having her every little whim catered to and dining like a queen, she might one day not wish to leave even if the option were presented to her. Kier was counting on that underlying selfishness to overwhelm each she-cat’s need for freedom. This was better for them, anyway. More suited to their particular… skillset. Aside from his own deputy and mate, of course. They weren’t like the rest.
[ That's alright! I replied to the plot thread with this one in mind; I'm excited. I can't remember but you did say we would be able to offer cats to be tortured correct? Sorry to ask plot related question in a thread. ]
When he finally entered her field of view she did her best to keep her posture but couldn't resist the instinctive twitch of her tail tip and her eyes shifting away. It was foolish, a sign of weakness to a predator. While she theoretically should be able to match him in a fight she could not challenge the might he now carried behind him. A wave ready to crest over her and wash her away, erase her very memory from the clan. It would be smarter to keep her eyes on him at all times, though she almost couldn't picture him doing his own dirty work.
The affectionate address and slimy tone crushed all her resistance and she curled her shoulders upwards and clamped her jaw shut to avoid speaking. Fighting an instinctive urge to scream about the injustice of his words, his claims to be stressed when there were mothers whose kits were now separated from them, warriors who were probably buried in shallow graves where their families would never know what happened to them. She was sure he enjoyed the work, the crazed look in his eyes when he announced the changes to Nightclan and his leadership clearly told them all about his depraved nature, and she hadn't missed the look he had pinned Moonblight under.
All her inner unrest and rebellious thoughts crumbled away like ash at the mention of her kits. Tigerlily shouldn't be surprised he knew of them, that he knew what had happened; what a failure she was. She could see how joyous he was to rub salt in her wounds. There was truly no way he didn't understand that staying in the nursery would be nothing but torture. No, Tigerlily was sure Kier was well aware and able to understand that a mother who just lost her own kits would not want to be surrounded by the reminders of what could have been. Would not want to live in the very den she lost them in. Perhaps it was selfish of her to hoard this pain when the other queens were suffering similar fates. But their kits were still alive, they still breathed, they still had their futures. Hers had never even gotten the chance.
"Apologies, but I don't find any benefit in staying there. After all, staying cooped up inside the den when I could instead be out among the warriros would be a better use of me." It curled her gut to speak of herself like she was an object. Something easily disposed of, or tossed aside without a care. "Forgive me for being forward, but as one of your more vocal supporters wouldn't me being out among the warriors be a good example to them of your... benevolence." She had no idea what she was saying, was hopelessly trying to capitalize on her big move during his announcement.
(yes!! probably in feburary's AC i'll include a survey where you can say which characters can be interrogated/arrested/tortured/executed, and which can do the torturing/etc :3 and no worries at all!! i love your enthusiasm so much and you're such an asset to nc and the whole site <33)
"Yes," Kier replied quietly, gently, bowing his head slightly so that he looked down at her from under his lashes. His voice had grown cold, little more than a murmur. "But that's precisely the point, isn't it? I don't think you have any place among the warriors at all."
"No, no," he reassured her, his voice returning to its usual cheeriness as he leaned back. "I admire your forwardness - you did a great thing, sacrificing your Clanmates' opinion of you to throw your lot in with the right player, and I'm eternally thankful to you for it. You swayed the tide, my dear. To see a queen," queen, not warrior, "who had just lost her kits choosing survival - choosing prudence - over honour? Why, that's precisely the sort of environment I want to foster." He was making what she did sound like it was the most shameful thing in the world, and that was deliberate; it was, no matter how much it benefitted him, no matter how much he appreciated it, no matter what fondness he had for her as a result - and he truly was fond of her, now more than any other NightClan cat because she was so much in his pocket - and he wanted her to hate herself for it. What could be more beautiful than that, a loyalist so subjugated she despised her own spinelessness? Someone who would trudge along behind him to the ends of the Earth and know her poor kits would turn away from her in shame? Someone who would kill for him and weep alone for the victim at night, with no one left to comfort her but her own sacrificed morals and the ghosts of her Clanmates? "Without you to show them how it was done, half of them would never have bowed so easily - and then we'd have a tremendous amount of blood and that's really no fun at all." He said the last part with dismissive quickness, waving his paw in the air as he looked away; for once, he made little attempt to hide the fact he was lying and that he was rather disappointment - even a little bitter - that there hadn't been more of it. The day was perfect, but it could have been more so. "But," he continued, looking down at her once more with kind eyes, "I'm afraid you've rather misunderstood things if you imagine benevolence might have any part to play in this little game of ours."
He smiled, and then settled down on his side. The meaning was clear: either this audience was over, or she'd better find something she could give him that would be more enticing. Flattery never went amiss. Now that he was in a position to ask for it, he'd discovered rather a liking for it - and the fact that the fawning was so often fake and meaningless only made it better, because it meant they were afraid enough of him to feed him sweet lies. Nor was a further sacrifice of morals spat upon: even if she had no intention to commit, to do anything more than turn the odd blind eye, the promise that she would descend further into cruelty would be smiled upon. It mattered little if she actually did it; it was just the idea of someone being willing to set aside their own beliefs to please him that gave him such pleasure.
She kept a stupid vapid smile affixed to her features, it was so much easier in the face of the devil than trying to attain some semblance of a blank face. Forcing herself to keep her lips in a smile kept her mind occupied, helped pull her away from his thinly veiled mockery. How cruel of him to rub her nose into her own short comings, she expected nothing less. But that did nothing to lessen the pain, he knew he had his claws in her and exactly how to drag them over her insides. The words were extra little daggers, his looks, his posture alone was enough to send her crumbling.
Tigerlily was at a true loss, there was nothing left inside her to carve out and hand over to him. He had enough playthings already, did he truly need to drag her through the pits of hell just to further affirm his own power. The scoff almost escaped her and she stopped breathing for a mere moment to keep it down, holding her breath and counting to 10. She almost wished her past actions had been different though she also knew if she had gone back in that very moment she still wouldn't change a thing. Already she felt she had suffered enough, was suffering enough, she didn't need to suffer for a clan that she barley felt a part of anymore anyway. She breathed but she was not really living any longer. She existed for her own shame and suffering, for her own failures. And now apparently to further Kier's own self-importance and agenda. "I wouldn't dare imagine any part of this game, after all I'm no player in any game," she breathed, bowing her head. "Simply a subject begging lenience."
She raised her head, but kept her gaze averted, peering at him slightly and quickly flitting her eyes away. Partly out of fear and partly because she didn't think she could look at him and be reminded of his cruel words and her own pathetic place in this play. "I can only offer you what I have; my loyalty." There was a pause as she scrambled for something else to say to force herself to continue speaking. "There are things I might be able to offer later; information, entertainment... " She had almost said the word patsy or the phrase whipping boy. But it sounded to much like placing herself into a position as something like a twolegs pet and she was not yet that desperate, not sure she ever would be.
"After all a warrior would be able to know when their fellows might be telling secrets." She steeled herself, "and surely a few lies planted might make it easier to... get rid of those you wish to. Someone to swear to anothers guilt, the poor grieving mother who has nothing to gain from lying." After all no cats outside who those Kier told would know about this exchange. As she would never admit to twisted herself into a parody of herself, of essentially selling herself out for her own betterment. No she would lie if anyone asked, but in the upheaval she doubted anyone would ask. Most would likely forget she was in the queens den at all she had been there for so little time.
