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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She trotted though the territory, the golden wheat and the long blades of chartreuse grass rising up around her, like walking through an aureate sea. It was a beautiful sight from the tops of branches and on the grassy hills where the greenery only reached a few inches, and perhaps it was still more lovely surrounded by the everything in golden glow when one had a short, sleek coat more conducive to traveling through their gilded landscape. However, with her long, fluffy pelt, it didn't take much for Pastelsea's fur to snag almost everything. She had set out that morning with the intention of hunting the rabbits and field mice that frolicked among the high grasses and nibbled on the wheat and new blossoming flowers, which were starting to perfume the air sweetly again as earth's flesh once again showed hints of life, acting as harbingers of spring's transformation. However, as beautiful as the hints of spring were, they did not make hunting any easier for the warrior, and after two unsuccessful attempts at hunting a mouse ending with her fur snagging and rustling the surrounding foliage, promptly raising the preys awareness to her presence, she'd given up and decided to try hunting and paroling near the border of Nightclan where the grasses and other assortments of plants were a bit less tall and generally overwhelming.
Eventually the ocean of golden greenery parted, freeing her from their tendrils, and she continued on for a while till she was well near the border's edge, where she proceeded to take a seat and calmly preen and neaten her coat that had been pulled and plucked at. Perhaps it didn't occur to her or - even more likely - she didn't care, that any passing cat from Nightclan might have taken the sight of aforeign warrior nonchalantly tidying themselves so close to their territory lines as a bit of an insult.
Spiderpaw was fuming, as he stomped his way out of NighClan's camp. He couldn't believe that that mouse-brain had even dared to look at his sister like that. He almost jumped him right then and there, but had managed to walk away. Before he even knew it he found himself by NightClan's boarder with DayClan. He made no attempt to hide his presence as he walked, twigs snapping and leaves rustling with every step. The fur along his spine was still raised, as he emerged into the clearing that marked the boarder, his eyes landing upon the she-cat before him.
She looked like a mess, with foliage intertwined with her tangled fur. Perhaps on another day he would have just let her be, after all she wasn't doing anything wrong. However, he was already on edge and his anger at the outsider that had been flirting with his sister had already boiled over "Did you mother never teach you how to maintain your coat?" he scoffed, standing at the edge of the boarder. His massive size and muscular form made him rather intimidating, even without the burning fury within his eyes.
Her head lifted meekly from the soft curve of her shoulder she had previously been grooming, the soft feathering of her mid-groomed fur ruffling like swan-feathers. Giving it one last, slightly awkward lick to neatly straighten her fur into it's typical velveteen cascade, she turned her full attention to the tom's fiery gaze. She shrunk away a bit, a natural reaction to facing unpredictability anger, especially from an opposing warrior, then took a second to find her voice.
"If she hadn't I wouldn't be grooming it." The answer was the sort of twisted innocence and sarcasm that could easily further anger and annoyance, but there was something so pitiful in the tone that it was hard to not feel a hint of sympathy for the she cat. She gave another moment to contemplate and choose her next words very carefully, taking a second to fully comprehend the situation and her place in it. Then, with a slightly uneasy trembling of her whiskers, she opened her mouth slowly and gently to speak.
"Is everything alright?" The question softly left her mouth, the words equally sympathetic and curious as she waited, stiff with unconcealed anxiety, for some sort of answer. She had cast the question with the hopeful assumption that she was not the raw source of the tom's anger, and waited silently in the hope that her suspicions were correct.
He wasn't sure why, but something in her tone annoyed him. Really anything that had come at her mouth at this point would have annoyed him, even with the good intentions behind it. His claws dug into the ground, as he forced himself to remain on his side of the boarder. As angry as he was, he wasn't about to break NightClan's rules. If he had nothing would separate him from the heathens that he hated so much.
His lip turned up in snarl "If your mother had taught you the proper way your wouldn't be pulling debris out of it now" He was itching for a fight, a chance to get this frustration out of his system. He couldn't cross the boarder, but is she did he could get her for trespassing. "Why would I tell some DAYWALKER what is on my mind" he hissed between his teeth, but he made no move to go forward nor to leave.
It was likely that however passionately the tom wanted to fight, Pastelseas wanted with equal vehemence to go about ending this interaction as pacifically as possible. Beyond a general distaste for physical conflict in general with or without her in it, she was a fairly poor combatant based on her pure ignorance of fighting, and, despite her relatively large size comparative to her other clan-mates, it was more a facade, the majority of her body-weight made up for in fluff which hid her comparatively delicate peach-soft flesh and china-doll skeleton. She feared bone breaks and scars almost more than death itself.
She took the insults with an illusion of some meager fortitude, not looking directly insulted. In reality, her own panic and burning need for self-preservation kept her ego far more in check than it usually would have been. "Well, not that you have too, but you started up a conversation anyways." The words came out with little thought to their repercussions, more care brought the attempt at a soothing and genuinely friendly tone, as if perhaps this had been a friendly, neighborly, 'Good morning' passed at the border and not an mostly unprovoked pelting of insults.
"And, well, you already told me what you thought about my pelt, so... Is it that far of a leap to ask you if everything okay?" The question stirred the air with every emotion antithetical to the aggression of the Nightclan tom. Perhaps it was useless attempt at turning the other cheek, but it was natural reaction of the she cat and the best conflict resolver she knew to turn to, second to running away like a coward from her own border, and at the very least she had enough integrity to not turn to that pathetic display.
