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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11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
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It wasn't his fault, right? The fact that he was completely alone, that he didn't really have a purpose in life, that this was how his life had ended up. He couldn't be the problem, right? He was just an aqcuired taste, there surely wasn't anything wrong with him, right? The tom had a headache as he wandered through the DayClan territory, looking more than a little lost. Deep in his own internal loneliness and conflict, he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. Pastelchaos still wasn't used to the territory, he supposed. Peachstar had given him a brief tour, and he'd ran around it with that puppy, but everything looked so... unfamiliar. This wasn't particularly unusual for the tom, though. After all, he had originally been in SwiftClan; he was used to being in new territories and getting hopelessly lost in them. All he'd need to do was pause, take a moment to think, and then retrace his steps.
“Wait, wait, wait,” an urgent voice suddenly called. “Stop literally right where you are — there’s this giant hornet nest right next to you, you can’t see it ‘cuz they built it underground in this old rabbit warren — they’re totally stealthy, genius buggers — but I know it’s there because we have this weird truce and sometimes I have to bring them cake or they freak out and go totally berserk in camp. Don’t ask. The queen’s one of the better ones they’ve had but she’s still a total tyrant — good for her, though, girl power. Anyway, if you pick up your left paw and put it down on that— you see that root there? Yeah, if you put it down there and then hop three times and shimmy around the tree trunk with your eyes closed, they usually don’t take offence. If they do, you have to do a little dance, but we’ll get to that if it happens.”
All of this was said by Rosyclementine, lounging in a little steaming hot pool of water with sliced up lemons floating in it. He hadn’t been waiting here on purpose, but since Peachstar had asked him to keep Pastelchaos under surveillance, it really was the perfect opportunity. He could keep an eye on him from his morning bath. Giving the little calico a warm greeting smile, he turned back to where he was double conditioning his plume of a tail.
When he heard the voice, there was a moment where the tom really questioned how his life had ended up like this. "I swear to god, it absolutely sends me that Peach thinks I'm the crazy one here," he muttered under his breath, hoping that the other didn't hear him. Was he being serious? Was there actually a hornets nest? The rest of the tom's assertions were so... odd that he found himself unable to quite discern if this was a delusion. If it was, that was ... well, it would have been fine a week ago, before he'd ended up in DayClan's territory. Before he'd pitched his nest here, he would have thrived under the absolute chaos that was this other cat. Now, though, he couldn't help but become incredibly nervous at the sight of someone who seemed more detached from reality than he was (which, by the way, he did find quite impressive-it wasn't often that a cat could out crazy him, although DayClan seemed to be the exception to that rule). The last time it happened, well... His eye twitched at the memory, and he was once again reminded of the pain in his still very injured leg. His eye seemed to twitch more and more often, a sign of the tom's increasing anxiety. Still, he carefully took a few steps back from the warren. It was better to be safe than sorry.
"I... have no idea what's going on right now," he admitted with a nervous chuckle. He glanced over in his direction, peering at the little set up the tom had. Was he dreaming? "But, thanks, I guess. It's probably better that I don't do any dancing given, well, the state I'm in." His eye twitched again. Where were his social graces? Normally, he wasn't this awkward, was he? "How's the... water I guess?" he asked, a single cat brow raised. Pastelchaos then gave himself a shake. Get over yourself, kid. He then cleared his throat, a only slightly forced smile spreading across his face. "Sorry, I'm being weird. Still not quite adjusted yet, you know? I'm Pastelchaos."
“Ohhh, you’re Pastelchaos!” Rosy greeted, leaning one foreleg out over the rim of the pool, surprisingly pulling off the act that he didn’t completely already know that and was, in fact, charged with spying on him. Rising from the water, he stepped out of his little pool and padded languidly over to the smaller tom, lemon-scented water dripping from his soft, wet fur. “Very nice,” he replied at last to his question about the water, then, stopping just in front of him, gave a smile, breathed “excuse me”, and ducked into the warren. “Yes, yes, I know,” his voice echoed out of the tunnel, both muffled and resounding, “well, he’s new — he won’t do it again. Yes, I know. No, you’re looking lovely for your age — you’d never know this was your three thousand and twenty second pregnancy. Yes. Thank you. Love to the children.” There was a brief pause, and then he laughed. “You really are a card.” Then, backing out of the warren from where his voluptuous tail had been swishing idly behind him, Rosy turned back to Pastelchaos with a smile. As if proving that he wasn’t insane, the hornets suddenly buzzed from within the tunnel, the vicious sound echoing off the earth walls. Rosy just continued to smile at the smaller tom, unbothered by the ruckus. “It sounds crazy, but hornets really are just like cats. Just a little more sensitive.”
Sweeping away, he padded back to his spa bath and slipped back into it, the dust that had attached itself to his wet paws and belly melting away. “So,” he continued, brushing one forepaw down his outstretched foreleg, eyes not leaving his creamy fur as he eased out every speck of dirt. “How are you settling in? SwiftClan, wasn’t it? Lovely Clan. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.” He tilted his head, brushing away a faint smear of mud. “You know, nothing cures a twitching eye like a spa bath.” He said it without looking up, voice distracted but still inviting. No question about why it was twitching, no judgement — just an invitation. “Oh—“ He finally looked up, glancing back at him. “I’m Rosyclementine, by the way.”
Pastelchaos had... mixed feelings that the tom seemed to already know about him. Since he hadn't really interacted with anyone other than Peach and Lionpaw, that probably meant the leader was gossiping about him. That wasn't very cash money of him. He almost wanted to say something about it, but instead, he let out a soft smile. This being the better version of himself thing was exhausting. When Rosyclementine poked his head into the warren and actually talked to the hornets, a confusion washed over his gaze. In his mind, there were two options. One, that Rosy was crazy and hearing voices of things that he ... definitely shouldn't. The other option was that maybe, just maybe, this was one of the powers that Peachstar had warned him about. Being able to talk to hornets was just about as useless as being indestructable if you're free falling. He had no intention of asking - he didn't want to know - so instead the tom just offered a small smile when the other returned. "I'll... have to keep that in mind. Although, no offense to them of course, but insects and I have a tendency of not getting along, so maybe it's best that I just... avoid this area in the future." If a hornet, or any bug, really, landed on him, he'd probably scream like a little girl.
He then tipped his head while the other spoke. "SwiftClan, yeah," he meowed with a shrug. "It's nice enough, if you like wandering most of your life with no particular destination in mind. Great for when you're a spry youngin'." Pastelchaos' eyes widened slightly at the implication. "Not that I'm, you know, too old to wander or anything." He was middle aged, but he refused to consider himself old. Until he had his first horrifying grey hair, he was going to be in casual denial about the fact that he was having a mid life crisis. "As for settling in, oh, you know. Nothing quite like breaking your leg and then having it stomped out by a psychopath only for your best friend to basically imply he didn't care and then force you to babysit said psychopath. Other than that, it's been... fine enough." He let out a humorless chuckle, before slipping into the water himself. The other tom was right, the water was very nice, especially compared to the soft chill of late-winter. "I'll probably need more than a bath to cure the twitch, but hey, this can't hurt, right?"
"It's nice to meet you, Rosyclementine," he then meowed. "Are you a long term resident, or another one of us vagabonds who are on a quest for self-betterment?"
Not that I’m, you know, too old to wander or anything. “Oh, no, I like older toms,” Rosy said with an absent smile, fluffing up his tail — and then his eyes widened, “no I don’t!” Laughing slightly frantically, he fluffed up his tail with new conviction. He was straight. Just because the DILF train had arrived from SwiftClan didn’t mean anything. The feelings would pass. As Pastelchaos went on about the cards he’d already been dealt in his brief time in DayClan, Rosy’s brows rose in surprise. “Wow.” A moment later, they softened in sympathy, a forlorn frown crossed his face. He turned to the smaller tom, reaching out slightly through the water to touch his side. “Are you okay? It doesn’t mean anything right now, and I’ll probably, like, kill you,” he flashed a brief grin, but his eyes still glistened with sympathy, “but Peachstar asked me to be the new medicine cat so, like, if you and your broken leg can wait a few more weeks I can totally look at it then.” He grinned again, like he was aware of the hopelessness of the punchline, and withdrew his paw, leaning back. He set about brushing the soft tips of his paws that once held his claws.
It’s nice to meet you, Rosyclementine. He smiled, raising his head again. “You too,” he replied sweetly, and he meant it. He went back to his work. “No, I belong to the rare breed of cats who were actually born in their Clan.” He grinned slightly as he cleaned his paws. “I’ve never even been outside of DayClan, not for a Gathering or anything. But I don’t mind. It’s beautiful.” He sounded like he truly meant it, like he was happy. These rolling golden plains — he could spend his whole life here and be at peace. “So,” he continued, trying to be as casual as he could, tilting his head as he concentrated on his left paw, “you’re… Peachstar’s best friend?”
