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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Post by complacentdevil on Sept 13, 2021 17:43:15 GMT -5
mini-plot time! any ancestors of swiftclan that you'd like to interact with the living, or to just discuss about the situation with swift are free to join, no matter what side theyre on!
Mine sighed. He was bored. It had been some time since any of his descendants had done anything worthwhile, and an even longer time since he had travelled the world of the living. It was agonizing. He groaned, rolling his ethereal body off the branch he laid upside down upon, landing square on his dark-starred paws. He looked around, his head low, sagging between his shoulders. If only there was something to do, something to stir up.
He had walked, for quite some time mind you, in the living world now. And he finally came to a funny looking place, big steel towers, light bulbs galore, the scent of two-legs wafted in the air even though it was moons-stale. He gagged at the thought, remembering his time with them. Yet the scent of cats rose as well. He watched, moving through the trees with silent steps, undetectable to the cats slumbering away below. He wondered who they were, not that it mattered much, because this would be his new source of fun. He grinned, with all his teeth, he grinned.
"Fancy seeing you here." A frown was carved into his sharp, angular features, his eyes twin shards of topaz, though despite the severity of his face - the crease in his forehead, the hooded gaze - Hazestar's tone was wistful, echoing of a different time. A different place. The ancient WinterClan leader sat on one of the swings, his tail hanging below him, daring to tickle the skin of the living soul slumbering, wholly unaware of their presence. "Didn't peg you for an interest in these sods," he grunted at his old flame. He didn't bother to hide his displeasure; whether it was at Mine or the fairground residents was unclear. "A shameful bunch, these are. A waste of good blood."
Post by complacentdevil on Sept 26, 2021 16:26:13 GMT -5
The black furred tom quickly perked at the sound of a familiar voice, his amber eyes lighting up in the pitch black of the night. It was a voice that both filled him with joy and saddened him at the same time. His eyes locked on those he remembered from so many moons ago, ones he didn't think he's see again. "Fancy seeing you here," he echoed smoothly back, his grin staying right where it belonged, "Its been some time, I didn't peg you for an interest in them either- does that mean youre here for me?" he purred, his paws leading him to sit below the swing that Hazestar sat upon.
The laugh he emitted was short and curt, disparaging even. "For you? You think I spent my afterlife waiting on you to show up somewhere?" Yes, the answer was, because in every unmoving shadow he had searched for Mine's blazing eyes, but he wasn't going to admit that. "I'm only here on...personal business. Making sure the last of my legacy doesn't end her infuriating existence." As if knowing she was being spoken of, Swiftscout's paw twitched, but she slipped back into an even deeper sleep and snored loudly afterward. "This is what I'm left with. Pathetic," he spat.
He then lifted his gaze to leer at the other tom, a mixture of frost and warmth in his gaze. As it always did, the chill won over, the spirit of winter in his essence unshakeable... much to his disdain; Hazestar hated the cold, always had. "Why are you here, then?"
Post by complacentdevil on Sept 26, 2021 18:26:19 GMT -5
His grin slowly shrank into a small smile, watching the cat below sleep away. He remembered those days. Sleeping comfortably, knowing that everything was going to be okay, never hurting really for food or companionship. He didn't find any of it pathetic. Maybe ages ago when he left a cushy life to prove his prowess over everything, sure. He could've thought like that before. Maybe death had returned to him those desires for that cushy life. Something mundane called to him.
He shrugged, hopping up to sit on the same swing that Hazestar sat on, looking over his former lover. "I don't think she's too bad," he churred, shuffling his paws on the cold, hard surface below. "I have my own good blood here. Wouldn't consider him much of a waste." he explained, his gaze drifting back to the cat sleeping soundly below.
