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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Surprisingly, Oleanderpaw much preferred the company of the apprentices compared to her time in the nursery. But the issue with her newfound want to socialize was the fact that she had spent so much time distancing herself from her peers that she had forgotten how to be … normal. She could only manage shy glances or awkward smiles to the apprentices she thought were so, so cool, unable to figure out a way to actually talk to them. She always regarded herself as top of the nursery, but those days were behind her, and now she was where she started: the bottom of the ladder. She was stuck with the company of Leveretpaw of all cats, and though he was something he was still nothing. He was lame and boring and she needed excitement.
Ratpaw had caught her eye early on. So roughened by the world, facing it all with a scowl and mean words — things that would all be considered bad traits by others standards, but Oleanderpaw had never been one for rules.
She approached him at the edge of camp, sat far enough away at first as to not be suspicious, but scooted closer every few minutes, bit by bit, until she was able to make her presence known. Finally, she could lean over and talk to him, giving him a few curious glances. “Ratpaw.” She realized she should have started with a hello, but she played up her confidence to brush it off, “you’re Ratpaw.” She sat up. The creeping moonlight made her white fur appear to glow.
The dark furred apprentice had been attempting a bit of a cat-nap, if you will, after an infuriating day of the medicine cat apprentice making demands and spitting on him. Just the thought of Lilacpaw made him grunt half conscious, a partial snarl pulling at his mouth. His ever rumbling stormcloud over head paused momentarily as he heard the slight sound of paw pad and fur brushing against stone - right next to him, in fact. The tom had just begun to slit his eyes as he heard someone tell him quite confidently that he was indeed Ratpaw.
He hadn't even opened his eyes completely before he gave a snort and turned to see who had made such a keen observation. "Yeah, what's it to ya?" Ratpaw sniffed and looked away, frustration tinging his belly as he saw it was just another apprentice.
She tittered at his words almost mockingly, though she didn't intend it. "You don't know? Oleanderpaw." She felt petty that he didn't know who she was. Everybody was supposed to know who she was. She supposed she could let it slide this one time.
"I was just. . ." she looked around for some excuse as to why she was talking to him, already aware that he probably wasn't one for pointless chit-chat, as much as Oleanderpaw loved to gossip. ". . . just needing your help, of course," she smiled wide, "you know, because you're so strong and capable and I couldn't think of anybody else for the job." Hopefully her pointless flattery would work, but she added a sparkle-eyed look just in case.
As Oleanderpaw continued speaking Ratpaw felt his tail begin to flick around in frustration. Her name went in one ear and right out the other, his words lost to him until his attention was brought back by the flattery.
Suddenly his tail stopped and his posture improved as a small smirk made its way to his mouth. "Well, maybe you were right to come to me. What is the job?" The blatant flattery had improved his mood and stroked his ego; something he enjoyed but didn't get often. Finally he turned his gaze to meet Oleanderpaw's, a curious glint in his eye.
Oleanderpaw hadn’t actually thought of an excuse yet, and her mind blanked at his question. She reached out a paw and tapped his shoulder instead, like a friendly pat, “you have to see it first.” She met his eyes, her amber ones shining eagerly. She stood up, looking around suspiciously as if they would be stopped, and moved towards the camp exit, slipping up the passage until the fresh air hit her on the other side.
she stopped and twirled around to wait, uncharacteristically nice. Perhaps it was just her fascination with the weird brute. Still, that didn’t calm her growing impatience. “Hurry up!” She called.
Ratpaw wasn't particularly fond of surprises, but the way she looked around before heading towards the camp exit piqued his interest. As he began to get to his paws he noted her pushiness and grumbled indistinctly. Another bossy furball telling him what to do. He began to scowl but chose to wait on sharp words until he figured out just what this cat was up to.
Wordlessly he trotted after her, finding himself glancing around suspiciously as well as they made their way out of camp.
She padded along beside him, a bounce in her steps, silently at first, watching him glance around suspiciously before admiring the scenery as well, instantly able to figure out where they were going and leading them along. "This is, like, a super, super important job, by the way." She nodded with affirmation, eyes widening for emphasis. "And it has to be done right. But," she looked around as if someone was listening, "I'll owe you a favour." Was she lying? Who knew.
She padded slightly ahead by now, winding them through tall pines and ferns and old, half-covered paths carved by decades of footprints until they reached a small, simple field. A tiny stream trickled nearby. It was dotted in flowers, some freshly bloomed, others waiting for the sunrise or warmer weather.
"You have to help me collect some spring bloom, of course. It's very important because my nest always has to look extremely pretty and I can never carry as much as I need. Oh, and Leveretpaw was busy," she laughed, "not that I'd like to. . . hang out with him. He's a loser. I'd save yourself the trouble." She padded further into the field, hardly giving Ratpaw a moment to protest. She lay in the grass, though it was cold from the night. She wouldn't be lifting a paw.
Ratpaw found himself nodding along with her as she explained the importance of the task ahead, a serious look on his face. It was about time some cats around here noticed his worth. He wondered what kind of important task an apprentice like him could really have, but his arrogance flung the thought from his head instantly. Surely he hadn't been drug out here for some sort of moss gathering party - he was better than that.
His macho walk was cut short as Oleanderpaw revealed the "important task" she'd brought him out here for and he halted immediately, a growl bubbling in his chest. He didn't like being strung along like that, he wasn't sure of any cat that would, and to think that the other apprentice obviously thought he was as dumb as a kit... It was all maddening. "What.. Why have you brought me here? How is this an important task for a strong cat? Pulling up flowers to put in your nest so you can feel better than you really are. This is stupid." His tail lashed to and fro as he glared at the she-cat who was sprawled out in the grass like a king, waiting for him to do her dirty work.
She gave him a scathing look. "It's not stupid. Here I thought I could trust you with this," Oleanderpaw shook her head, disappointed. "How can you be a good member of Nightclan when you can't even do the simplest of tasks? I could have gotten literally anybody else but I chose you." Still not moving to watch, she lifted a paw to her face, flexing her claws as if checking them out.
"You don't even know who I am anyway. I don't need to feel better, I'm already great." Rolling onto her back, she peered at Ratpaw through the cold blades of grass, giving a dramatic sigh, "but if you don't want to help I guess you don't have to. I'll just have to tell everybody that you couldn't even figure out how to pick flowers properly, and maybe relay that you are unreliable in every sense of the word." Could she hold her Reporter status over that of an Executioner? Perhaps — it would be easier to knock him down than it would be a Superior, that was for sure.
The anger in Ratpaw continued to simmer as Oleanderpaw kept on and on, treating him as if he were below her, acting as if she were the judge. It all felt utterly unacceptable to him. His blood roared in his ears as his muscles shook with want; he wanted to hurt her, to show her who he really was. The hairs along his spine rose and his teeth bared themselves, moonlight glinting off of them with a sour yellow sheen as slimy saliva began to drip.
Perhaps if he weren't so prone to hateful rage then manipulation would have had a better hold on him. But today, now, he felt no threat from Oleanderpaw; not their reporter status, nor their petty threats, not even the thought of the consequences he may receive if he did surrender to his bloodthirsty urges. The sticky blood that would run over his paws as he tore into her could quite possibly make anything worthwhile, after all.
