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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Teddybear-kun (or just Teddybear, kun was so tackey) always walked with his nose up, head held high, like he knew exactly where he belonged on whatever social hierarchy the League seemed to have — the top, of course. He stared at the world around him with hubris, he met the gazes of those who looked upon him like he would smite them at any moment, he took annoyed gazes and hefty sighs with confidence and amusement. The attention, the glitz, the glamour, the twist of someone's features that displayed he had hit a nerve or pushed a button, he lived for it.
For the most part, he stuck to the comforts of the Mansion (settling in and all that, he had to get settled), but today he decided to let his paws lead him, allow the wind to carry him to wherever it blew, and he wouldn't stop until the air changed, until it was unrecognizable. A prancing king, all high steps and whistling, he slipped out the door, through the fence, past the pines and oaks and aspens, the snow and the pools of water. The bird songs entranced him, fresh and new with their return of — what was it called? — migration? Migration. Though he took great esteem in his appearance and had for his entire life, the dirtiness of the outdoors was captivating, and he liked the strange feeling it left on his paws. Strangely, he enjoyed cleaning out his fur at the end of the day. It felt like a reward. The Great Oak — something that was meaningless to Teddy, mind you — stood grand and tall in front of him, its boughs and branches looking especially appealing. Without second thought, he stood on his hind legs, small front paws leaning on the trunk like a hunting dog, tilting his head up. He realized he didn't know how to climb a tree.
Almost immediately, Teddybear was hit by a tiny black cat falling from the tree.
Kier didn't even have time to scream — he was on the branch, and then he was losing his grip and falling, and then his fall was cushioned by something soft and warm. He lay there for a moment, paws in the air, visibly frowning, before he finally connected the dots — "ah!" — and leapt off the other tom, scrambling to his paws. "Well, that was convenient timing!" he greeted cheerily, looking the stranger up and down. As he did, he realised how attractive he was. A dumb little grin spread across Kier's face, his eyes hooding slightly as he sidled the tiniest bit closer, forepaw drifting across the ground. "Hi."
The reason Kier was here, if Kier needed a reason to be anywhere, was because he had been practicing. You— you think a genius like Kier could get any of the brilliant things he did done without practicing? You're an idiot. Now that he was leader, he would one day be expected to speak at a Gathering. And of course, his oratorial skills had been proven during his ascension, but there could always be fine tuning done. For example, how were the acoustics in this sorry little clearing (the Clans really were so unimaginative with their locations for special events)? How much would he have to raise his voice? He didn't want any voice cracks; puberty had been difficult enough without projecting his youth onto an audience, just listening and waiting for him to trip up, to make a mistake, so they could mock him, so they could tear him down, so they could say see? The runt has no right to be leader. If Moonblight were there, he'd be the first to lead the laughter. And then there was the matter of security — if his sister or brother were there, he had to have an escape route. And where would Eris sit? With the medicine cats? When she was so above them? This all required intricate planning, you see.
He didn’t notice the black shape among the trees, nor did he notice anything at all until it was too late and he was folded on the ground, unable to gasp for breath with the weight on top of him. He didn’t have time to even shove Kier off before he was free, scrambling to his paws and coughing as if he were dying, he sucked in a breath that puffed out his cheeks, something between a genuine need for air and a gasp at the audacity. He stared at the cat, though he wasn’t much taller himself, and thought wow, what an ugly tom — he would have stood no chance against Teddy in the shows, that was for sure. Actually,he was certain they wouldn’t even let him enter!
For a moment, he stood in shocked silence, before slapping his paw across Kier’s bony face, clawless, “you insidious little waste of space!” He shrieked, fur bristling. He spat like a small, angry, fluffy frog. Finally, as if he were putting back on his little white glove, he stepped back, giving a judgemental, furious glare, “and what, exactly, were you doing up there? I was here first.” He stomped a single paw as if to prove a point.
Teddy would have been wrong, because Kier was an Oriental Shorthair, despite neither of his parents being so, and the judges would have loved him.
The second the other tom slapped him, Kier's paw flew to his stinging cheek, grinning back at him with something close to amused adoration and letting out a silent little titter, the slight shake of his shoulders the only indication of it. He loved dramatic meetings, loved when someone who he was fairly certain couldn't physically beat him still had a go at him — it was different when the adversary could actually hurt him, he didn't enjoy that quite so much; but this, he loved this. When the tom bristled, spitting so furiously, Kier's eyes just darted up and down again, taking everything in with that same grin. This was so much like his and Eris' first meeting; it made him nostalgic. He missed his mate. He'd been away from her for half the day; it was far too long.
"Were you?" Kier laughed, rubbing his cheek for a moment before dropping his paw. "What are you, a trainee?" As if Kier had even graduated from that rank before leaving the League. But his voice was harmless, just warm, grinning teasing. Being around a League trainee made him strangely homesick, for the long days with Laertes and the early days when he'd just arrived of exploring, and for one, off-kilter moment, he wanted to see the Mansion again, wanted to go back to his old room. He'd come a long way since then, and felt both proud of that fact, and melancholy about it. Lonely. Becoming leader hadn't been the perfect achievement he'd expected it to be, the thing that would give him power and grandeur and control. That would give him respect. Instead, standing in front of this trainee now, he felt instead like it had stolen the last remnants of his childhood from him. But that didn't show in his toothy smile. "Come back when you're leader, sweetheart," he purred, giving the tom a pat on the cheek.
The way he grinned back was infuriatingly patronizing. He’d had enough of those looks in his lifetime, thank you very much, and when it came from Kier, he found it more aggravating than boring. And though it was nice to have yet another admirer, he could do nothing but scoff in his face. So, he did, and his paw reached up to slap the other’s away from his face, but it only narrowly missed. His fur lifted again. Not that it made much difference to his natural pelt, with its wispy, curled furs, and only did it really add a more shapeless, fluffy look.
”What are you, stupid — WOULD YOU STOP!” This time, his whack didn’t miss, and he forced Kier’s paw away before shoving past him, back towards the trunk of the tree to stare up at it, absently. To some, it would look like he was zoning out just staring at the branches, but Teddybear would say he was only figuring out the most optimal way to get to the top (because he would, of course, he was a genius). He wanted to experience what those monkey’s on his old human’s television experienced, without the added, general grossness of their being. He blinked once.
“Now if you will excuse me,” he huffed without looking over his shoulder, “I have things to be doing, places to be.”
Kier ducked the first time, and when the second landed, he staggered backward slightly, tittering.
He was still grinning as he followed along behind him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, like he was finally cutting to the chase, and his voice was joyfully amused, tinge with laughter. "You look like a kittypet — a very fierce one, but I'm still surprised the League let one in. Are their standards beginning to lapse since I've been away?" His grin widened, eyes on the back of Teddybear's head. "What did you do to get in, show them how to get their fur all nice and fluffy? Is everyone walking about smelling of peaches — no," he sniffed the air, "cinnamon! Very lush."
“Kittypet,” he sniffed, still staring up at the branches of the tree, “what a dumb name. House cat. Sound it out.” Teddy still offered a smug smile and a small wiggle of his shoulders at the perceived compliments — he was fierce, and he did have such a nice fur, and he did smell just wonderfully, like cinnamon and sugar. By now he had figured out that in order to climb, he might need to unsheathe his claws to get a grip on the bark, but they were digging in more than pulling up.
Finally, he turned away with a stomp and a pout, cursing the tree under his breath before noticing how uncouth he sounded. He sat down, pulled his tail closer and ran a paw over it as if he were letting it. “The humans loved me but I thought there was something more here.” He didn’t mention how they had stopped loving him. “You would just have to see the ribbons I won, oh it was wonderful.”
He stared at Kier critically before grimacing. “And where did you come from? The swamps?”
"Ohhh," Kier replied mockingly, "I see, because you're a cat who lives in a house. Oh, yes, that's much better than kittypet." He sat down to watch his attempts to climb the tree; this was much better than preparing a speech. "Something more? In the League?" he laughed. "Oh, we've all fallen for that way of thinking. I can assure you there's very little there and even less everywhere else." By now he'd lain down with his chest and stomach flat on the ground, the bones of his hindlegs sharp on either side of him. He watched Teddy as he wandered back to him. "Ah, you were a show cat?" he asked like it was no foreign concept to him, forepaws crossed; he drummed his claws against his own bones. "I've never understood the appeal. What do you do with the ribbons? The fellow pins them about the house, and then what? Wonderful to look at, I'm sure, but parading prettily about isn't terribly impressive." He paused. "Especially for a tom." As if he didn't spend half his time parading about and drinking in the spotlight. But that was different. That was tyranny; it wasn't vapid. "Still. Whatever gets you ahead, I suppose. Or... did. We all have to make the most of what we have." Any success was success — he'd tolerate vain preening in a tom even if he disdained it in a she-cat.
And where did you come from? The swamps? Kier's tail tip thwacked against the ground, the only sign that he was nearly at the end of his tether with all these unoriginal jokes. Christ Almighty, he wanted to say, yes, I have big ears; yes, I'm small; yes, I'm bony. Are we done? Are we done? "What," he replied cheerily, "you don't think I'd win a ribbon?"
He hated Kier's tone, he hated everything about it, and he almost said something, had the conversation not been derailed into ribbons. God, he loved ribbons. He couldn't accept this ribbon slander, they were just small and colourful. He rolled his eyes, "you look at them, stupid. But I'm surprised someone like you even knew what a show cat was, you don't seem very. . ." he didn't finish his sentence. "They're just nice. I just don't think you would understand." His tail flicked absently. Especially for a tom. Teddy glowered at that, but said nothing at all. He remembered how many cats would assume he was a she-cat (his owner thought pink bows and frills looked best on him, and Teddybear wasn't one to disagree), and it got incredibly annoying at times. Now, he felt defensive whenever somebody so much as brought it up. He wasn't just a tom, he was an award-winning pedigree.
You don't think I'd win a ribbon? He raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, then laughed a loud, haughty laugh, "of course not!" He blurted, strutting past Kier with determination even though he had no idea where he was going. The subject changed quickly. "I'm bored with trees." He sighed dramatically, as if the trees had personally wronged him.
