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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The sky was a black dome when she emerged from the Warrior’s den, a perfect black canvas unmarked by moon or star. Twightlightdance’s inky coat made her practically invisible as she crossed to the freshkill pile, save for two sparkling amber eyes. The hour was nearly midnight, and yet Nightclan bustled noisily. She still had to get used to that. The demure she-cat nodded to a warrior as she passed, and presented a soft smile to a hasty apprentice who stormed past. But she spoke to no one. The truth was, she hadn’t gotten a chance to make any friends since she’d arrived the day before. She settled down with a mouse, hoping for an opportunity to spark conversation with one of the many denizens.
The dark blue tom blended well with starless nights, but imperfectly; his fur was light enough he was a moving shadow other than his white toes. He was coming back from an early patrol, but as they all laid their catch upon the pile, Stormreign held onto his and reconsidered. He had nothing else to do now and his stomach was rumbling, so he retreated with one of the mice he had caught.
Stormreign joined Twilightdance and laid down at her side, seemingly unconcerned that he had never met her before or that she hadn't offered for him to join her. "Good meal choice," the warrior greeted, amused to see they had both chosen a mouse.
Twilightdance was taken by surprise at the tom’s gregariousness, but her face quickly melted into an easy — if not a tad shy — smile. “Mouse is my favorite,” she mewed colloquially. “I find that I don’t have a very big appetite these days... it’s the only thing I can manage to finish.” She blushed coyly, hoping she wasn’t oversharing.
He smiled back at her, broad and fierce. Stormreign was naturally charming, and it was evident in his mirthful blue eyes he was used to she-cats being nervous around him, but he was prone to overdoing it. He leaned too hard into being kind and it spoiled the illusion.
"Well, if you don't finish it, you can nudge it my way," he suggested, pulling his mouse closer with an eager look. "My stomach has been growling like a monster since halfway through my patrol. Mice aren't my favorite, but I think I would eat anything right about now." He bit into the prey and was immediately relieved by the flavor and warmth.
Twilightdance found the tom’s boldness endearing. She tittered lightly at his suggestion, and waited for him to finish recalling his patrol before replying, “Oh no. I wouldn’t want you eating my leftovers.” The ebony she-cat had a funny upbringing. Her mother had forced her into etiquette training, and one of the first things she learned was that those who ate others’ scraps were scavengers and bottom-feeders. In her mind, it would shame her blue acquaintance to be caught doing that.
“Excuse my forwardness but, you weren’t born here, were you? I can hear it in your voice.” Nightclanners’ had a certain accent, she’d learned, and while this tom’s voice was well adjusted, there was an inflection in his tone that was foreign to her. She knew her voice was slightly different, as well.
Caught off guard, he blinked at her twice without moving otherwise. Stormreign was not used to other cats being so perceptive, and when they were, he typically expected their questions. He had never considered how his accent might keep him apart from the others.
"I was not," he agreed, seeking out her gaze with equal curiosity and approval in his eyes. "I was born a rogue, rather far from here... but I've spent many moons in the League and the Regime as well. I know that makes me look dishonest," he smiled again, "but I think this time I will be staying in the clan. Both of my other departures had... extenuating circumstances, so they say." Stormreign let that mystery ill the air for a few seconds before he went on. "But I do hope my voice makes me more attractive, not less?"
Twilightdance had the modesty to blush, but she wasn’t intimidated by playful banter. Quite the contrary; she enjoyed the thrill. “Why yes… it adds a bit of mystery,” she responded truthfully. “It serves you well, sir.”
She considered his words as she searched his blue gaze. He seemed many things, but dishonest wasn’t one. “No, I wouldn’t say you’re dishonest. Your accent is a bit like mine. Forged in the tribulations of the road.” Rogue accents were easy to detect. They were always bastardly; a mix of different dialects, depending on where the road took them. “You’re just well-traveled.”
Stormreign’s voice was more curious because he had the Regime and the League mixed in there, the latter of which did raise some questions. “You’ve certainly lived a colorful life. Many cats leave the forest to join the League. But you’ve done the opposite.”
Then she remembered suddenly: “My apologies, I forgot to give you my name. It’s Twightlightdance. And yours?”
Stormreign was pleased by her response. Joining the clan as an outsider was tricky enough, but doing it with a past like his was just asking for trouble; he couldn't blame the clan for being suspicious of a former League cat, they should be slow to trust him, but it did grow tiresome to receive suspicious looks every time he shared some aspect of his identity. Flamingstar trusted him, and once, that had been enough; now that she was gone, it was a harder task to fit in.
"Well, Twilightdance," he murmured, the corners of his mouth softening into a genuine smile, "it has been a pleasure to meet you. I haven't met many other well-traveled cats here. My name is Stormreign." There was a fraction of a second where he nearly said the wrong name, his tongue beginning the natural roll of the R, but he corrected himself swiftly.
"And you're right." Stormreign leaned back, breaking eye contact as he took another bite of his prey. "It might be unusual for a cat to leave those free groups for a life like this. Truth be told, I never did fit in amongst those cats; they were too violent or too strict, and though they were not all bad, most of them were difficult to work with." He crossed his white paws shifted his attention back to her. "But that's more than enough about me. What brought you to the clans?"
“Oh?” Twilightdance implored softly, as she listened to him reflect on his time in Primal Instinct. She’d heard little about the League, but none of it had been good. She’d feared her views were the prejudiced perspective of the weakly informed, but here Stormreign was, a former member, confirming much of the hearsay. It sent prickles of concern rolling through her.
So how do you fit in here? She wanted to ask, before he suddenly turned the spotlight on her. It had been so long since she’d spoken about her past, the question sent a rush of emotion through her. She broke eye contact to study the glimmering dome wistfully, thinking of what to say.
Her smile was soft as she began. “My mom had these... well, very funny ideas about me. She called me reinette growing up, which means little queen in a different tongue; she always had plans about who I was going to be. She meant the best of course, but it was quite overwhelming. So when she passed away suddenly, I felt I had no direction in life.“ Her amber eyes grew soft with longing. “I traveled the road, and you know how hard that is. I was in desperate need of a home, companionship, and purpose, so when I heard about Nightclan, it seemed worth seeing for myself.” She brought her eyes back down to him. “It's held a few surprises, but I like it here.”
His blue gaze traced the lines of her expression as she spoke, understanding how she felt a little too well. Stormreign spent very little time in his life alone; he found he disliked being alone with his thoughts and they could be as cruel as the cats that cast him out. It was easier to have others around, even superficially - greetings as they passed by, or long patrols. Admitting his loneliness even to himself was difficult, but hearing she experienced the same thing resonated with him, and he warmed up just a bit more to the dark feline.
"Little Queen," he marveled, and the realization that followed made him laugh. "Fitting. You know, my name before this one was Raijin - 'thunder god.' It seems we're both born of divinity." His new trust in her was counting on her lack of familiarity with the Regime; if she recognized his name and who he was, he guessed their conversation might take another route entirely. But he couldn't miss the chance to compare their names and the paths they've traveled.
A merry smile split her face, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly, as it always did when she smiled like this. She felt like her mind had been in a twister since she’d arrived to Nightclan. Her adjustment had been made easier by a group of girlfriends she shared tongues with at the waterfall; they’d taught her the ins and outs of the culture, educated her on the religion, and even caught her up with the latest gossip. But she’d spent so much time trying to adjust herself to Nightclan, she hadn’t had any time to reflect on her past, and let Nightclan adjust to her. Much less find someone who she could relate to, like him.
Stormreign’s bet was a good one, as Twilightdance's expression only grew brighter at the mention of his old name. Thunder god was quite a hefty denomination to live up to, but she thought it fit well with this large tom.
“Raijin,” she repeated carefully. “That’s so... powerful. And now you’re Stormreign.” She thought for a moment, pondering the relationship the two names clearly shared. “Did you give yourself that name?”
While the name Stormreign was equally arresting, she was a bit saddened that he’d let his old name go. She always felt like a part of her identity had disappeared when Reinette had died with her mother.
Stormreign's grin deepened and he lifted his chin, glowing under her compliment. It was a powerful name, one he thought suited him well in those days when his very presence commanded respect. His brothers had never lived up to their titles but he had embraced his fully and wore it with pride for many moons.
"I did," he confirmed, tucking his white toes back beneath him as he settled into a new position. Distance crept into his voice as he reminisced. "When I joined the clan, Flamingstar told me it would be as a prisoner, but she offered to let me keep my old name or choose a new one for myself. Raijin was a good name, but a dangerous one," he paused on the phrase, testing the words, and was unsatisfied. "That name reminds me of someone I'm not trying to be anymore. I thought Stormreign was a nice play on the same idea, and Flamingstar agreed." She had been more than amicable when he was settling into the clan; she was happy just to see him again and willing to show some flexibility to keep him there.
Twilightdance stared off into the distance, trying to imagine this blue tom as someone different, Raijin instead of a noble warrior of Nightclan. The thought of Nightclan’s prison system sent prickles of discontent through her. As someone who’d felt like something of a figurative captive for much of her adolescence, the concept felt contrary to the way a cat should live a life. But she supposed it could be necessary on some occasions. Living in a clan was different than being a rogue, after all. Just something else she’d have to adjust to.
“That was nice of Flamingstar. To give a captive a chance to integrate into the clan,” Twilightdance decided. But still, questions lingered and multiplied in her mind. Who had this tom been before? What past was he running from? Unruly assumptions and guesses squabbled in her mind, but in the end she tamed them all. She wouldn’t ask him about a past he was trying to avoid. So she decided to ask the single question with the least amount of thorns adorning it, perhaps one that would summon fond memories instead of shame and guilt. “Who was this Flamingstar? A friend of yours?”
The implication brought a rueful grin to Stormreign's face. "Moons ago, she fell into my path, and there was a little spark. So we started spending more time together, and it was ... it was nice; we understood each other. Helped each other. I thought maybe it was going somewhere, but then... well, things weren't going so well in my personal life, and I ended up in recovery somewhere else, with no way to talk to anyone I knew." That was the most delicate way he could put things and he moved on quickly.
"I came back to NightClan to be with her, but she had another mate by then. Which was fine," he shrugged, and now he couldn't help the sly smile that was coming back, "it was nice to see her again. We weren't together long before she was driven from the clan. That was the last time I saw her." Stormreign shrugged his shoulders. "I don't want to mislead you, I wasn't in love, and we weren't too deeply involved. She was just a good friend that the universe was determined to stop from becoming too much more."
Twilightdance’s gaze fell as she listened to his story, totally enchanted. She could feel a hint of jealousy laced within the veins of her heart, coursing through her with every beat.
The ideals of love and eternal kinship, girlish concepts of being swept away occupied her mind.
Despite herself, she couldn’t resist being a hopeless romantic, even after the numerous chidings her mother had given her about how over-sentimentalism was shallow and tacky. How it was more likely to drive away suitors than attract them; no one wanted to be held to standards they couldn’t hope to match.
She thought she knew where his story was going – Nightclan’s leader was Aspenstar after all; this Flamingstar must’ve died prematurely, and left Stormreign forlorn, alone to pick up the pieces of his life.
But then Stormreign surprised her again, with his casual dismissal of the matter.
She raised her eyes to look at him again, her amber gaze intense for a moment, as if trying to read his mind, his emotions, see if he was playing her false behind his dazzling aura.
“That’s all?” Her tone was slightly stung. That wasn’t very romantic. She’d beg for pardon later, but for a second her easy grace slipped away – the lines of her features became almost sulking in her disappointment. For a moment she seemed younger than herself, and felt younger too; her mind felt crossed between jealousy and irritation, almost feeling like a projection of this Flamingstar she’d never known and would never know, disappointed that her star-crossed lover could dismiss her with a shrug and an easy smile.
Another moment passed in silence, before she meowed. “I apologize for my rudeness. And for your loss. It’s just... life can be disappointing.”
Stormreign glanced at her, equal parts surprised and apologetic.
"Life is disappointing," he agreed gently, seeming unsure on how to proceed. Her investment in his tale had confused him; if he had known she cared so much he would have spoken with more tact. Instead, it had felt important to be honest with her; his past with Flamingstar was complicated, but it was over now and he did not foresee her ever returning to his life.
"If I may be frank, it was better than we were never truly together." His brow creased as he sought the right words, speaking carefully now. "She had a life without me, one that made her happy. I wish I could have made her happy as well, but I don't believe that's true. She had this friend... this owl that listened to her command. We hated each other, there was not a day that I didn't wish that beast would die, and how could I ever be good for her master if my feelings against Nyra were stronger than my feeling for Flamingstar?"
