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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In hindsight, maybe being a thorn in Bermondsey's pad wasn't the wisest idea. Though the Warden was certainly a scrappy little thing, all legs and angles where Cezra was fluid muscle, he knew how to handle himself and did remind the newly minted ass succer of why he was among Primal Instinct's top dogs. Nothing majorly damaging--it just wouldn't be very nice to render one of his associates invalid--but it did have the tom limping to find one of the healers, whoever happened to show their face first. The fur on one of his shoulders was matted and dried around the obviously intentional, open wounds, still leaking blood but not nearly as much now than it had been earlier. They would no doubt leave scars long after they'd healed, which was quite alright by him. Ladies liked bad boys.
"Helloooo~" he yodeled into the silence, noting how this particular area was devoid of sound almost entirely. There was no scuffle of paws or clamor to be heard, as if nothing--not even sound--dared to step across the threshold here. It was kind of eerie. Cool.
In keeping with the eerie atmosphere of the place, the she-cat that appeared in front of him looked oddly ghost-like. White fur, a lithe build, and those two distinct eyes- each split blue and green down the exact middle. Reynardine, the (adult) mage of the Regime, moved silently and lightly on her feet, and she assessed the newcomer with faintly interested eyes.
"Hello," she said after a moment, flicking an ear back. "I'm Rey. You're Cezra, right? The new assassin successor." Reynardine overheard a lot- even more so now that she was in a higher position- and knew things that most cats didn't bother to remember. "Who or what mauled you?"
"Ass Succer," he corrected with a grin that showed all his teeth, seeming faintly carnivorous in nature. "Pleasure's all mine, pretty eyes. These little things? Oh, you know, just another one of the nobodies with something to prove. I think they look rather becoming, but I've been urged to have it looked at... won't you?" Mirthless eyes glittering, Cezra splayed himself across the exact center of the den, the full length of his body stretched to its fullest extent giving Reynardine very little room to maneuver around him short of stepping across and exposing her soft underbelly to his claws. He smiled innocently at her, inviting her over.
"The title suits you," Reynardine said dryly, wrinkling her nose at the unexpected compliment. "I'll certainly look at your wounds. It's in my job description." This tom was already fairly annoying, with his flirtatious attitude and his space-hogging tendencies. "Though if you slice me open I'll have to tend to myself, first." She stepped over him without much thought, going to the herb collection to grab the bare minimum of herbs she needed- she tended to be a little more generous with the plants than her mother was.
"Show me your shoulder," she mumbled, turning back to Cezra with some cobwebs in her mouth. "Let's stop the bleeding, first."
As she cleared him, Cezra rolled over until he lay on his other side, observing her rifle through her - her mom's? - stocks. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, and whether it was sincere or not was up for debate. He watched as she began to sift through the, now dirtied wound, cleaning the crusted earth out of it before applying cobwebs to staunch it closed. "You know," he hummed, as if to himself, "my fur used to be white like yours. I guess all that ass sucking did me in."
"Yes, I don't doubt you did plenty of that," Rey said, rolling her eyes as she brushed off the dirt and pressed the cobwebs to the cuts, watching the white wad turn pink around the edges. "But somehow I doubt your story about your fur changing color. It's just genetic, none of your questionable activities will make it any different."
She set the cobwebs aside, returning to her stockpiles to grab a few random herbs, chewing them to a pulp in her mouth before slathering them across the cuts. "Stay here until that's dry." It wasn't like she really wanted him to stay, but it was her duty to tend to him. "Were you born here, Cezra?" She asked, figuring she might as well make conversation while she re-organized her herbs.
"I would never lie to you," he said, and with the way he looked at her, all tender eyes and a cheek pressed against the soft fur of his paw, he might have really meant it. He just had that way about him; sometimes, it was easy to pick the truth out of the lies, whereas the next moment it was painfully impossible to decipher the nuances. Like in how he then remarked, voice pitched higher to be more dramatic, "I have never told a single lie in my entire life. I've always held to the belief that you don't have to remember anything if you only tell the truth—and I always did have such an awful memory."
He watched her curiously, enthralled by the manner in which Reynardine could move without a sound, like she were no more than a flitting forest sprite. His ears tilted forward at her question, seeming to consider it, but when he answered it was passive, natural sounding, "No, I was born somewhere dark enough to hide my sins. Ever had a taste of cat blood, Reynardine...and liked it?" His eyes, lighter than the gloom, were brushed gold, eying her face for a reaction.
"Perhaps you just don't have the brain cells to come up with a proper lie," Reynardine muttered, shuffling the poppy seeds to the side. As sincere as she sounded, Rey wasn't stupid enough to trust this peacocking male. He was all dramatics, and that was one of the few things Reynardine disliked.
After a moment she turned back to him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "No. I don't tend to have a cannibalistic side," she said, peering towards the poultice and sighing when she saw it still wasn't dry. "Do you always speak in riddles, or am I just an especially lucky captive audience for your vague quips and jokes?"
He let out a disappointed noise, a faint exhale that was only heard due to the otherwise lack of sound in the den. He could practically hear their heartbeats in between their breaths. "Maybe I just like to watch you think," he offered, "or your reactions are just amusing to me. You say exactly what's on your mind, don't you?"
Cezra waited until she turned around again to give the poultice another swift lick, effectively stalling it from drying. "Were you born here then or did you also chance upon the League? Did you come searching for your mother?"
"Usually, yes," Reynardine said. "And no, I wasn't born here. I was raised by my father up north. I didn't come looking for my mother, it was more of a... happy accident that I found her here. It wasn't until after I joined that I realized who she was and- why am I telling you this?" She grumbled, wrapping her tail over her paws.
"Your turn. Why'd you join the League instead of staying in the Land of Endless Darkness where you were born?"
