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!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
Butterflyglass loved everything about the spring. The way the earth seemed to take one big, deep breath after a long winter to revive itself, how the flowers stood so small and delicate, how the birds came back for the winter and the bugs crept out into the open. She didn't mind the way mud squelched under her paws after rainy days (her favourite kind of days), and even though the remains of snow always look so ugly compared to everything else, she didn't mind that either.
The distant sound of a waterfall, so distant she could hardly hear it above her own voice, sounded in her ears as she peeked at a particular shimmer between two trees. A spiderweb, spun so beautifully, so naturally. A piece of art. A fuzzy, black spider sat in the midst of it like a queen on her throne.
She gave it a smile. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Spider. I hope your husband tasted very nice. I was hoping to run into one of you today, I've prepared a poem that I just must share." Butterflyglass sat down and cleared her throat. "Mrs. Spider has eight legs; Mrs. Spider spins with string. She approaches her husband as he begs, and gobbles him up at the coming of spring."
She gave a polite, humble bow. "If you couldn't tell, I am a huge fan. Have a lovely day." She got up to walk away.
Sunnygaze regarded Butterflyglass with a bemused look from a few yards away. The maverick's poem was as impressive as it was disturbing. He wondered briefly whether or not she admired the spider and its husband-eating ways, or whether she simply liked the look of its web. Neither option really calmed him all that much.
"Do you write poems about every little creepy-crawly you see around here?" he asked with one eyebrow raised. He slinked over closer to her, then changed his mind and stopped just out of arm's reach, just in case she...tried anything.
She blinked down at Sunnygaze as if he had stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have, but it only took milliseconds before her expression softened. “Of course not. Not bees. They are aways so busy and I try to keep my distance.”
Sunnygaze let out an amused snort, too short and sharp to really be called a laugh. "You know what, it's kind of funny," he said drily, "I only write poems about bees. The others don't need to hear any of my awful poetry. Not when yours are so...delicately crafted." He paused. "...Butalsowhydoyoudoit?"
"Oh. How. . . nice." She sounded disgusted. "I get that they pollinate but. . . I think they're quite ugly. But I'm sure your poetry isn't awful, despite the audience." She glanced back at Mrs. Spider, giving her a raised, 'this guy is bonkers' look before turning back. "Because — well. Do you know what fun is?" Butterflyglass would have sounded much more passive-aggressive had she not held the same airy, whimsical tone in her voice.
