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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I'm pretty sure she's insane. Eshek tipped her head to the side with a thanks expression on her face, meeting Ber's eyes; it wasn't sarcastic, she meant it. He was covering for her, and if he had to insult her mental stability to do it, so be it. It was true, anyway.
A minute or so later, from where she was draped over Jester, Eshek, fed up, mimicked Bermondsey in an ugly voice, eyes rolled back in her head and mouth all downturned, "do you think the fog is poi- do you ever listen to yourself, Bermondsey?" Her voice switched back to normal; she threw him a disapproving look. "You never stop worrying. 'Oh, I'm so cold and emotionally distant' - dude, you're as cold as ice cream on a hot circus parking lot some crying kid has dropped. Maybe you should sleep with a ghost, might make you relax for once in your goddamn life." She turned back to Jester, turning her back to Ber. "I'm sorry about him. He's just excited to be included. He doesn't get out very often."
He slipped out from under Carriondare's weight as she leaned on him, settling just out of reach beside her. He shook out his fur as if it had touched something particularly grimy. Should ghosts be sexy? He purred, "I'd be a little disappointed if they weren't. I mean, if you're going to haunt some place at least make it worth it for everyone else, y'know."
He looked to Bermondsey, a sort of are you being serious right now look on his face. "Well, if it was poisonous I feel like we would have already been dead by now. But, one couldn't be so lucky." He rolled his eyes, stretching out before turning to face the tunnel with the previous wailing. It had died down a bit, now only the sound of a brief whimper could be heard occasionally--or perhaps it was just wind acting up. Water dripped somewhere. He doesn't get out very often. Jester couldn't help but laugh.
"Yeah, I can tell." He approached him, knocking a paw against Bermoundsey shoulder. "Just kidding pal, I'm sure you get out plenty." He approached the left tunnel again, gesturing with his head to go ahead.
"I think we could try this one, we might meet whoever is making that god-awful noise."
Eshek let out a sharp, unpleasant bark of laughter at Jester's joke about ghosts. The laughter turned to an admiring, killer-eyed grin as he mocked Bermondsey's paranoia, her eyes darting between the two, and then to a delightedly stupefied little titter at his 'I'm sure you get out plenty.' She was vaguely smitten, and since Eshek wore all her very simple emotions straight on her sleeve, all that surprise and gooey, taken-aback admiration, like Jester was a puzzle that just kept on revealing new things, was incredibly clear. She always had fun making fun of her friends - it was just she showed affection, though that making fun leaned towards the kind of mean that you had to have a very thick skin to put up with; it was exceedingly rare that someone else joined in.
"Y'know, you're a real card, Jester," Eshek sighed appreciatively, because she was stuck in a 1940s casino mentally and said things like 'you're a real card.' She wiped away a tear and slipped over to lean on the black cat again, not getting the message about personal space because she was deeply stupid in the way only a genius could be. "It's so rare that I find someone who can keep up on these sortsa adventures of mine. Everyone else is so lame, y'know?" It was like Ber wasn't there at all. I think we could try this one. Eshek, resting atop Jes, nodded along and turning her head to look down the dark tunnel like it was the only logical conclusion. Of course it was; Jester was so right. Esh had reached that delusional part of a friendship where it was really based more on her idea of the person than how they actually were, and once she got there no amount of effort or contradiction could undo it - Jester could actively try to kill her and she'd still be like, 'God, you're hysterical.' The same thing had happened with Innocentia, and no matter how many cats her fluffy little bunnyflops ate she could do no wrong.
"Step lightly, Bermondsey," she told the tom briskly without looking back at him, slouching away from Jester to start towards the tunnel. "First one there gets to kiss the ghost!!!!" She sped down the tunnel, splashing up water and making the fog swirl until it swallowed her up entirely. "I'M GONNA GET THOSE GHOST COOTIES — WHOA."
Now vanished from sight, Eshek's WHOA just echoed back through the tunnel. But inside the sprawling room she now found herself in, she was standing with her head craned back and all four legs planted far apart, like a bulldog, having stopped mid-sprint - staring up at what had to be close to a thousand paintings all leaned against each other on the damp stone floor, some towering above her, some smaller than she was. Some were in ornate gilded frames, others were just raw, frayed canvas; some were in relatively pristine condition, others were water-damaged and mildewy.
"Oh my gosh!!" Carriondare suddenly sped over to a particular painting. "A genuine Manet! Look at the way the work is at once fairy-tale-esque - bucolic, even - and fraught with terror, subverting the traditional relationship between humans and nature and presenting the tragedy of mutual misunderstanding which is simultaneously reminiscent of the austerity of modern life and a meditation on the poetry of universal suffering. Open, changeable, tyrannical - a colour field poem. Look at the way he painted the grass - the copper tones! The ancient oak woods, here depicted in the midst of a transformation that will lead to the reduction of unaffected beauty and the rise of— what is happening." Eshek snapped out of her trance, turning her head to look in disgust at where her paw had been so close to stroking the mouldy piece of crap. "Ber, I think you were right about this gas."
The horrible wailing came again, much closer this time. It was coming from the middle of the room, hidden among the maze of paintings. Eshek recoiled and fled back to Bermondsey, tucking herself behind him.
He scoffed. "You won't be laughing when you're the ones who are dead," he grumbled, as he followed behind. Of course he was paranoid to them; better safe than sorry, after all. He scowled at her comment; if he could flip her off, he would, but unfortunately, his paws were occupied by walking and cats didn't have fingers.
The next room, despite his lack of knowledge with human matters, was impressive. If it wasn't so dark, he'd assume that this was some hallowed place where cats weren't supposed to be. The ornate frames paired with the rough, torn canvases made this place even creepier than if they had all been broken and disused. It felt like something must've taken care of the select frames that were still hanging. It looked like a scene from a movie in which the world was ending. He wasn't sure he liked that.
Eshek's babbling didn't make any sense to him at all, so once again, he tuned it out, peering curiously at the frames, his brow furrowed in both wariness and thought. Some of them seemed cool, some of them didn't make any sense at all, and some of them....a select few, almost seemed forboding, the dark and light painted so dramatically, the humans depicted with faces twisted into emotions he couldn't quite read.
Interesting. Disgusting.
Suddenly the wail came from the room. He could've excused it first as perhaps some sort of wind, whistling through the shutters of...something, but this didn't sound like that. This sounded like a voice, though it had this ethereal tone to it too. It didn't sound alive. It didn't sound dead.
"Who's there!" he called out, knowing most likely, they wouldn't answer or worse, he had just revealed their location to an oncoming attacker. The fog was thicker, as if it was really following them. He saw a shape dart across the floor in the distance. A rat? Or perhaps something else?
This time, she didn't move away. She did, though, lean forward slightly, letting a purr rumble in her throat. "Why, thank you," she held a paw to her chest, all boastful and full of herself. Just keep the compliments coming, honestly she was living for it. "You're real ace too," just to keep the theme. Everyone else is so lame, y'know? She laughed, "Oh, tell me about it. I can never find anyone quite my speed, you're a real change of pace." Literally, she would say. Physically, it was hard to keep up with her sometimes. But that was the fun of it, she was a challenge, an enigma even. Really, she was quite the question, one of the interesting sorts that you just had to get to know more. You didn't find cats with her energy very often, and when you did it was like a breath of fresh air. Not to say Bermondsey wasn't his own. . . sort. . . as well, as she turned back to look at him, a teasing gleam in her eye. He was their way back down, really, a way to make sure they didn't go a little too high. Was it working? Well. . . that was a little questionable. They did take a dive into sludge water and get sucked down a drain, to be fair.
As Carriondare trekked forward, Jester was right there behind her. "Oh come on, give me a chance at least!" The water still felt gross as she trampled through it, and the fog was a bit thick, but she was having too much fun to care. The slight tremor of her heart, that was what she lived for. That little run run run chant in her head, so gleeful to ignore. The fear was the best part of any adventure. Without it, was she really living?
"What--" She stopped just behind her, peering into the room and following her in. "I have no idea what you're saying, but damn these look cool," she admired, giving herself an honorary tour of the room. She looked at a particularly water-damaged human, with an almost terrifying half smudged face. "Look, this one's melted." She chuckled, swiveling her head to gage where the others were.
A long, drawn out wail sounded. The kind of cry to send a shiver down your spine, fill your feet with ice. A shape out of the corner of her eye. Seemed like Bermoundsey saw it too. "If you want a kiss just say so--I'm very open!" This ghost sounded like a bit of a downer, honestly. Or whatever it was.
(sike i'm a dirty, sexy liar and i'm replying to this one too <33 get with it suckerz) achromaticgoldcrest tagging in case y'all have lost it x
Eshek purred appreciatively at Jes' compliments, looking down at the black cat with fond, half-lidded eyes.
From where Eshek was courageously staying behind Bermondsey and using him as a living shield, she let out an undignified bark of laughter at Jes' taunt at the ghost about wanting a kiss. Really, it was less a bark and more a split second cackle, so sharp it would burst your eardrums. "Well," she said to Ber, sitting down and inspecting her claws. After a moment she looked up at him, head still bowed towards her claws, and then jerked her shoulder towards the gloom in the middle of the painting-filled room like she was confused about why he wasn't already moving. "Go be a gentleman. See what it is. Or is all that good breeding of yours for nothing?"
She didn't give him time to reply. Heaving a melodramatic, groaning sigh, Eshek shoved herself to her paws and shouldered roughly past him. "Honestly, you're useless. I have to do everything myself. Is this how it's going to be our whole marriage? In thirty years are we going to just be two strangers sitting on the couch because you wouldn't take out the garbage when we were young?" Her voice was so serious and genuinely annoyed; she always did this, joking about some far-fetched imaginary scenario and then forgetting it was fake and getting genuinely pissed off about it. "This is so typical," she added to Jester, shaking her head. "I hate men."
Rounding one stack of huge, gold-framed paintings, she found...
Nothing.
No ghost, no demon, no scary monkey.
She circled three times around the stack of paintings, at one point glimpsing her own tail and letting out a startled scream. Then, on the fourth lap, she noticed a shadowy doorway at the back of the room for the first time. That familiar, eerie wailing echoed from it just that moment. Glaring determinedly, now getting fed up with this elusive ghost, Eshek put her head down and marched straight ahead. "GHOST," she shouted commandingly as she stood at the threshold of the darkness. "COME HERE."
But the ghost did not come.
Growling, Eshek stalked into the darkness - and found herself in a witch's hideaway. Truly just every stereotype. There was a huge, grey cauldron bubbling against one wall, spitting up glowing orange bubbles and making a constant bubbling sound. Dried herbs hung from the low ceiling, a rickety wooden table had open, velvet-backed books upon it, a huge fireplace was crackling with what smelled like a vat of soup cooking over the flames, the cobblestones were crooked and uneven, and everything was shadowy, lit only by candles, the fireplace, and the potion in the cauldron. "Oh, a girlboss lives here for sure," Eshek murmured appreciatively, looking around from where she stood in the doorway.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Oct 7, 2021 9:27:31 GMT -5
Bermondsey smirked at that. As if a ghost would just come out because she asked it to; please, he thought, as he continued to explore now that there was nothing else immediately looking to attack. Still, his fur didn't lie completely flat, his green eyes turned left and right, as he moved in a different direction while Eshek found the witch's hideout. A witch's pot? How...interesting. It made no sense that anything was living down here in the darkness like this, so far below the living world.
The rickety bookshelves looked as if they were falling apart, but he still found himself leaping atop one, balancing precariously on the ledge for a brief second before exploring the tomes of books that seemed way too old and fragile to still survive such a damp place. This place was like a labyrinth that didn't exist in the real world; Bermondsey couldn't make sense of it all. It was a strange place, and glancing at the books–not that he could read anyway–he found the diagrams to be...almost otherworldly. There was surely something mysterious about this place.
"What do you think that's for?" he asked with a frown, glancing at the cauldron. Even from here, the smell made his nose wrinkle. It smelled like food and yet...it smelled like something else. Something that made him swallow thickly, both of curiosity and trepidation. Was it food, or something else? He couldn't tell.
"One of you should totally taste that soup," he commented nonchalantly as he leaped onto the table, trying to flip the pages with his paws, before glancing upwards.
"Who's in my little kitchen?" a crackly voice spoke, before letting out a strange cackle, "do I smell some itty bitty guests?"
They peered from just behind Carriondare's shoulder, standing only on their back paws to try and get a better view, "Honestly," they scoffed, rolling their eyes before giving her some space, "You know divorce is always an option." Jester let out a groan. Really, what was the point of a creepy tunnel system with secret rooms if you were only going to have boring paintings that didn't even have anything behind them. A waste, truly. While the other two did whatever it was they were doing, they preoccupied themselves with batting at a painting—rather boring, a simple wooden frame, some scenery of an old field or something, with a path cutting through it—that was leaning against the wall. It fell with a loud thud.
The now familiar wailing caused Jester to turn, excitedly bounding over to Carriondare to get a better look. Not that there was much, a simple, rather cliché dark passage, holding all the fear of unknown in its depths. They gave a teasing nod to Bermondsey as he passed, letting the both of them lead the way despite their own excitement. Because they weren't stupid.
"Curse you guys and your longer legs," they pushed past, oohing in excitement at the cauldron. The whole room smelled of something strange, mixed with withered pages, old wood, and musty stone. Dust was gathering in the corners.
One of you should taste that soup. "DIBS!" They approached the cauldron, almost a bounce in their step, all foolish excitement and the feeling just before adrenaline hits. Restlessness. They attempted to run a paw on it, just for fun, but pulled back sharply at the heat. "Ow." They blew on it quickly, hopping back. "I think Carri should try it, actually."
do I smell some itty bitty guests?
There was a moment where Jester paused, completely unsure of what to do because, really, they hadn't expected anything like that down here. They hadn't really expected anything at all. "Uh," they looked from Bermondsey to Carriondare, trying to figure out what they were going to do next so they could decide for themselves. Could the thing even understand them? The sound of heavy, shuffling footsteps echoed in the room.
"Aw, don't worry, Jesty," she replied reassuringly as the black cat pushed past her. "Maybe you'll grow legs like ours one day, too. Then you could bleach your fur and gouge out Bermondsey's eyes and take his place in the League. You'd do a better job than he does at whatever it is he actually does. Make kittens cry by lecturing them for 7 hours about the stock market prices during the Vietnam War, I dunno. It's so lucky he found me or he'd just have no social life. You'd make a much better Bermondsey." She rolled a marble back and forth under her paw as she spoke, before finally letting it go and watching it roll into the fire. A purple burst of smoke and flames went up. She whistled.
I think Carri should try it, actually. “Sure!” Eshek chirped happily, skipping over to the cauldron - and jumping straight in. She sat there for a moment, processing with a stupid smile on her face… Before the scolding heat caught up to her. She screamed at the top of her lungs, thrashing around in the burning, glowing orange soup, before scrambling out over the rim and collapsing on her side on the floor. She was now bright orange from the neck down and dripping gluggy soup that was quickly growing cold and making her shiver. And she glowed, too, illuminating the little patch of gloom where she was lying. She raised her head when the crackly voice spoke. "Girlboss," she groaned weakly. "I didn't like your soup."
Suddenly realising, however, that they were intruding and the voice could mean danger, Carriondare scrabbled to her paws, leaving an Eshek-shaped orange stain on the musty old carpet, and raced over to where Ber was standing on the desk. She batted at his tail from down below, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Get down!" she hissed frantically. "You're gonna make her mad! Stop looking at her books! You're illiterate!" Not trusting Ber to obey her, she reached up on her hind legs and grabbed him around the waist, hauling him off the table. Still not letting go of him, she dragged him across the floor towards a little fallen over bookcase with books scattered everywhere, grabbing Jester too as she went. Holding them both around the neck, she ducked down behind the broken bookcase and hid. "Okay," she whispered, all three of their heads very close together. "Who wants to kiss first? I know this isn't the time but I'm feeling some mad chemistry right now. Is it you two? Who is it?"
Something crashed in the middle of the room. It interrupted Eshek and she flinched. Turning her head slightly in the shadowy corner they were in, she saw a fat, red book leaning haphazardly on one of the broken shelves in front of her. Her vision focused, her pupils dilating in the dark. "Ha-ooh T-aw M-moo-awr-der A Sm-oo-al Sc-oo-an-dah-nee-vin Vee-looge Een Igh-tain Ee-zu Sta-oops," she read, slowly and badly. It said How To Murder A Small Scandinavian Village In Eighteen Easy Steps. "Are either of you Scandinavian?" she asked urgently, looking between the two of them where she still held them around the shoulders.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Oct 8, 2021 16:46:19 GMT -5
It was like every time he turned away, somehow Eshek got her into an even bigger mess. It should be considered a talent, though a talent only troublesome kits usually had, he couldn't help the amusement shown in her eyes as she launched out of the soup pot as if someone had lit a firework up her tail or something, and his chortle could be heard. Gods, he had been joking, but that certainly was a sight to see.
Suddenly the voice made his hair stand up on its end, his eyes wide as he glanced around, left and right just to check where it came from. What was that? It didn't sound like a ghost, that was for sure. There was a distinct lack of wailing that came with ghosts after all. Suddenly Eshek was hissing at him, something about his illiteracy and he felt her grab him and practically launch him off the table with a yelp. "Yeesh," he hissed, "you didn't have to grab me like that. I have legs too, you know." He was more embarrassed about the fact that he was being manhandled than anything.
He really didn't have any desire to kiss a ghost, that was more on Eshek's bucket list than his own after all. "You can go first since you're the one suggesting it," he snorted, peering up to look around for the source of the voice. He was almost certain it wasn't a ghost. Then suddenly, he heard a loud slam and he felt himself jump, turning to where the books fell to the gorund. Scandinavian villager?
"No, but I think my dad's Russian," he frowned, "no idea what my mom was, but her sister also looked Russian so maybe they're all Russian? What about you?"
