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!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
It had been four days since their tryst in the moonlight, and one day since the Gathering. The night of the latter, she'd been bewildered the whole time, unable to understand the prickling discomfort that made her feel like her body wasn't her own, that made her snappish and short-fused and anxious and afraid, that made her fidget and squirm, that made her feel something for Luc that she had never considered in all the years she'd known him. That morning, the smell of the fresh-kill pile had made her nauseous and she'd thrown up just outside the DayClan camp; by late morning, she'd slipped discreetly into Brakewings' den; and by the time the sun was at its peak in the sky, she knew that everything (or most of it, but she could deny one of them for a while yet) she'd been feeling had been hormones she'd half given up ever having again.
Eshek hardly gave herself time to process the news or work out how she herself felt about it before she was hurrying to League territory, following the route automatically while her mind flickered curiously blank. It was like she was in shock. The happiness, the pure joy, the relief, that would eventually flood through her was numbed completely by the simmering terror, the incomprehensible grief, of losing her last litter, held back as if by flood gates protecting her from future psychological harm.
Now, she suddenly appeared at the window of the Warden's quarters, like a jump scare monster guaranteed to startle Bermondsey terribly. "Ber, can you walk with me in the forest?" she asked quietly through the glass, her voice serious, fretful, completely devoid of humour. She said nothing about where she was currently standing, like it was nothing at all to have scaled storeys of the Mansion to now be speaking unannounced to him through a window, or like she wasn't fully aware of where she even was; her expression was vacant, disoriented, her brows pulled together without her seeming to realise it and her eyes slipping away from him to gaze unseeingly at his room. There was no joke about him not really being the Warden; when she'd needed to find him, she'd gone straight there. Without waiting for an answer, Eshek turned, hopped back down to wherever she had come from, and disappeared.
She waited for him at the edge of the woods that circled the clearing the Mansion stood in, staring blankly ahead and clawing at the soft, dark earth with her little kitten claws. None of the League cats bothered or questioned her, paying her little mind as they went about their day; though she hadn't officially rejoined yet, it was a generally accepted fact that she eventually would, and the former Proxy was just regarded as a natural part of their lives. Since their night spent together almost a week ago, Eshek hadn't seen Bermondsey except in passing at the Gathering, where she'd scolded him for looking so fearful. It had been uncomfortable radio silence, and she'd begun to grow afraid that it would herald the end of the friendship she had come to rely on and care for so deeply. She wasn't annoyed by the quiet - she was just that: afraid. She didn't want to lose him. The morning after, all the magic and defiance and illusion of romance, of devotion, of love, had faded away into the bleak grey dawn light, and they'd said their stilted goodbyes, hers a quiet 'Bye, Bermondsey' before she'd drifted, limping and with dried blood scabbing on her paw pads, into the woods. This wasn't how she'd wanted their reunion to go, and through the shock she was still faintly afraid of how he'd react to the knowledge his curse was being passed on, but he had to know. And it had to be her who told him. Whatever they'd shared that silver-lit night, with the moon swallowing up their secrets, it would bind them together for the rest of their lives.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Sept 28, 2021 17:32:44 GMT -5
Bermondsey knew he had been avoiding Eshek for a while now, but he didn't really know why. They had enjoyed themselves for that night, and it meant nothing at all, right? Surely she must've felt the same too, they had established a while ago that neither of them had any plans for falling in love, and certainly not with each other. Bermondsey was still determined to let the bloodline die with himself, after all. It was better that way, to keep things removed from emotion, to keep himself safe by offering the walls and citadels he had built around him, keeping all who were of any danger outside. He had never intended to make any sort of friendships around here, and yet Eshek crawled into his chest, as if she had cut open his sternum and wrapped his ribs around her somehow.
He couldn't avoid her forever. When he found her crawling through his windows, her voice filled with a solemn tone that seemed so unlike herself, his eyes had widened in alarm at first, as if wondering whether something was wrong, his eyes searching her form before settling into the usually impassive expression, his chest relaxing in relief when there was nothing immediately wrong. (Oh how wrong he was)
With a nod, he leaped up onto the ledge, before falling onto the soft mulch of the forest, following the other cat silently. Should he say anything? They had spoken at the gathering last, a strange sort of interaction that had felt nothing like their usual quips and dry jokes. What was all of this about? Was she upset about the way he reacted? Surely if she was, she would've mentioned it by now.
"What did you want to talk about?" he finally ventured to ask, "please don't tell me you're about to have a 'what are we' kind of conversation?" It was a poor attempt at a joke.
Eshek hardly heard Ber's joke - though she would have been proud of him for loosening up if she had; instead, she had switched from kneading anxiously at the damp earth to pacing back and forth and round and round in restless circles, the fur along her spine prickling and her tail lashing. Dark dirt was caked under her claws, sticking to the poultice that she still had applied to her cut pads every morning.
Finally, she whipped back around and, sucking in a deep breath and looking Bermondsey straight in the eye, blurted out, "Ber, I'm pregnant." Silence. As soon as she said it, she was searching his gaze for a reaction, hoping the quiet wouldn't last long, her expression uncharacteristically nervous - brows pushed together, eyes doubtful and vulnerable. She bit at her lip slightly. If it was too much to hope for happiness, at the very least she didn't want violence, anger, accusations. She knew Ber - he was her friend, more than a friend - but even she didn't know exactly how he would respond to the news she knew he had never, ever wanted to hear. "They're yours."
Post by achromatic on Sept 29, 2021 10:24:20 GMT -5
He didn't like this, didn't like the way they seemed to have swapped roles. Usually it was him, worrying and fretting over every little detail like the absolute control freak he knew he was, and she was the one without a single care about the world, throwing herself head first into situations that often should've resulted in death...but it didn't. She was making him almost nervous, his tail lashed once and his ear flicked in impatience, the mounting irritation starting to bloom from his chest.
The moment she claimed she was pregnant, he could feel something akin to danger prickling on his fur. Pregnant. Why was she telling him this unless...he knew there was a chance. That night they had given into their adrenaline and slept in each other's arms. Oh no. No, no, no. She wasn't about to tell him this. He closed his eyes, immediately taking a step back. There was a part of him that truly did care about Eshek as much as he'd often deny it. He hated that she had wormed her way to his heart but it was the truth; he had never been as much of a tough guy as he had portrayed himself to be. There were few cats he cared for, few and far in between, but she had truly become one of them.
Yet, the tragedy of his family's curse couldn't be easily overcome like this. He had spent years, dwelling on what had happened, nightmares and dreams reoccurred both in waking and asleep, and surely, all of this trauma couldn't be undone simply because of one cat. He didn't want kits. He had established that the moment they had met. She knew this. He almost wanted to be angry with her about all of this, but he couldn't. Part of him didn't want to push her away. Not like this. He swore under his breath, a string of curses as tried to take a deep breath, to think clearly about all of this.
"–and what are we going to do about it?" he replied, his voice a deathly quiet as he held her gaze, his clouded eyes were unreadable, "I'm sure a medicine cat could..." He hesitated, unsure of how Eshek would react to his suggestion of getting rid of them. He knew she had lost kits once, was he truly suggesting that she go through that again?
For a moment, the look across his eyes was one of vulnerability. He wasn't ready to be a father. Aleksy and Evenie was proof; he had left them where they'd be safe. "I'm never going to make a good father," he spoke, a disbelieving bark of a laugh leaving his throat, "they're going to grow up being just as cursed as I was." There was a biting bitterness in his tone.
When Ber backed away from her, a dreadful, burdensome grief hollowed out her gut. She had known that rejection of his kits had been a possibility - a distinct possibility - but to actually see it happening before her eyes filled her with a naïve terror like she hadn’t expected it at all. As fiercely independent as she gave off the impression of being, she wasn’t. She wanted to settle down, wanted to be nurtured, wanted to raise kits with a family, not by herself; and even though she knew Ber would never be her mate - except under the loveless commitment of duty, which would have broken her heart more and ruined their friendship irrevocably - she had at least imagined a future with him as their kits’ father. She watched him helplessly as his eyes closed. But then he was speaking.
What are we going to do? Despite everything, Eshek was unspeakably comforted by Ber including himself in the decision, the situation, the idea of parenting - last time, Funk, much as she had known he loved her, had laid all the responsibility for it on her. She almost let out a gasping sigh of relief, her chest heaving and her spine relaxing from where it had been tensed and stiff, and maybe she did. We. God, that was all she had ever wanted to hear in her whole life. But his next words, trailing off nervously, dashed all that comfort. For the first time since she’d received the news, all the fearful numbness was knocked away and fierce love crashed through her. She wanted these kits more than anything. Ber was then treated to a sight no one had ever seen before, and that made her look slightly ridiculous - all Eshek’s short fur puffed out, so she looked like an angry white raccoon. It was only for a moment, before her fur flattened again, save for a defensive prickling along her spine and shoulders. “We are not going to do anything, Bermondsey,” she replied sharply, spitting his name slightly. Her tail lashed once before settling into small, simmering flicking as she took a few steps closer to him, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She was vindicated, slightly, and reassured, by how immediately guilty he’d looked at the suggestion. “I’m having these kits, whether or not you choose to be a part of their lives. I would like you to be, but I’m used to toms letting down the cats they impregnate so I’ll survive if you’re not.” The words were biting.
But Bermondsey’s outburst - it sounded close to a panic attack - threw her. She’d thought his reaction, aside from his fear about the curse, had just been a tom’s typical unwillingness to own up the consequences of his actions. But hearing the words I’m never going to make a good father made her heart soften and crack. They sounded so afraid, so full of doubt. Not fear of the reality of accidental kits - fear of not being what they needed. It was the simplest demonstration of Ber’s concealed kindness that Esh had ever seen. “Well, that’s on you, then,” she replied harshly, but her expression was gentle as she padded over to her friend and sat down beside him, gazing at the side of his face with clear blue eyes. “No one knows what kind of parent they’re gonna be. You think I do? At least you had a mother, however messed up she was. I have literally no blueprint. And my last attempt at raising a kit didn’t exactly turn out that great.” Her upbringing of Lorah was one of her greatest regrets. She laughed scornfully, but her voice was tender as she continued. “You know what your own parents did wrong. It isn’t like you’re unaware and you’re just gonna blindly follow their example and do the same things they did. That’s way more than most parents can say. You’re already a step ahead.” She nudged his shoulder lovingly. “We’re probably the two worst cats in the world who could ever have children together, but maybe that’ll be a good thing - maybe we’ll cancel each other out.” She laughed. “You’re my best friend, Ber, and I think I’m yours. These kits aren’t going to have a mother and father who can’t stand each other, or who love each other destructively - they’re gonna have two friends who want the best for them and for each other. And you’re going to be a good father because you’re going to make the effort to be. Sure, we’ll screw up. Probably a lot. But you’re kind, however much you wanna pretend you aren’t, and you’re gentle, and you’re gonna care about them. Hell, I bet they’re gonna have you wrapped around their little baby paws.” She grinned, and it was fond and soft and so lovingly teasing. “And everything else, we’ll work out along the way. Maybe they’ll spend half a moon with me in DayClan, half a moon here. And when I’m here - ‘cuz I think this has made up my mind and I’m gonna come back part-time, so you can’t get rid of me, bucko - then we can be a horrible little family together.” Head still turned to Ber, she reached out a paw, the pad scabbed over from the glass, and rested it on his. “They’re not gonna be cursed,” she continued in a quieter voice, lowering her head slightly to gaze into his green eyes. “Because they’re gonna have a mother and father who love them, not an ice queen and a-a killer lothario.” She grinned crookedly, but it was soft around the edges and it faded a heartbeat later to a brief silence. “We’re not your parents, Ber. And we’re not mine.”
Post by achromatic on Sept 30, 2021 17:19:22 GMT -5
She said a lot of things, but she didn't know. There was no way she could know exactly what went on in that head of his. "That's what my father said too," he spoke, his voice quiet, his eyes still holding ice that seemed difficult to melt. There were stories that were told, only once, and yet he had remembered it for his whole life. An elephant never forgets, and while Bermondsey didn't have tusks or a trunk, there were things that stayed rooted in his mind.
"He told us about his family once. A usual father and mother who loved each other. Two kits. They were never meant to be together, but they loved each other and eloped, left our family home and traveled down south. Because he stole our mother away, our grandmother apparently put a curse on them. Something about how they'll never settle anywhere and what they're proud of most will destroy them in the end. They were in love, Eshek. They did everything by the books, and yet my grandfather died when he tried to settle down, and my father was the reason my grandmother died too, and why our uncle disappeared. Then when he had kits, the same thing happened. His firstborn son was the reason why my parents and my sister's mate are dead."
A dry laugh left his mouth, his green eyes wild and frantic. "You might think it's a joke and that this curse doesn't exist, but don't you think it strange? Once is a coincidence but this is twice, perhaps third now if you count my nieces and nephews. It didn't matter how much my parents 'loved' us, or how much theirs did too."
He raised a brow at her. "If they don't try to kill me then surely they'll end up insane," he replied in a deadpan, "it doesn't matter what they did wrong or what I can do better. There's no control for this, and I don't want to wait until they're born to realize that I've made a mistake and have my days be numbered like this. What can I do to change my fate? All I can do is run from it or make sure I cut the chase. Tell me, what will you do if it's true? If this curse really does follow me? Follow you?"
Deep inside, he knew that there was the same madness in him too. He had always felt it, rising whenever he lost the slightest bit of control, the anger, the rage, the crack in the mirror...he wasn't ready for this. Perhaps he'd never be ready for this.
Eshek listened in irritated silence, slowly moving her paw away from his. "Apparently put a curse on them," she muttered under her breath with a sidewards look down at the ground, echoing his own words. But she didn't dispute him past that - she had promised the first time they'd met that she believed him, and even if she didn't entirely believe the story, she believed him. It was a strange distinction, but that was just her indiscernible brand of loyalty.
Tell me, what will you do if it's true? If this curse really does follow me? Follow you? "Then I'll deal with it when it happens," Eshek snapped back. "If it happens. But if you think how a child is raised has nothing to do with how the curse might turn out, you're an idiot. Of course it matters." She had never sounded - never felt - so defiantly optimistic as she did at that moment. "Even if you won't deal with it and you're running away from your own children like a coward, I will. I'm not going to let them hurt you, or me, or each other. And either way, frankly, you're just going to have to cope, Ber. Because I'm not getting rid of these kits. So unless you're going to fight me - and you'll lose, twink - then congratulations:-" she stood up, legs straight, and pressed her face into Ber's challengingly, fearlessly, "you're a father."
She turned away, dragging her fiery blue eyes away from, and started to stalk back into the woods - before she got her second wind. "And, by the way, it's not normal to come back from the dead. How do you know that's not a curse? Maybe our kits will have to worry about that more than turning into a bunch of psycho murdering freaks. You're so selfish, Ber. You can't see past your own damn issues enough to notice that everyone's life could be called a curse if you looked for a pattern." There was no actual venom to her words, not like their first argument on the roof top - she was just berating him because she was stressed and angry. Honestly, it was just a fight about nothing that you have with someone you care about where the voice is heated but the words are just the same recycled sentiment, long since meaningless. Lashing her tail and glaring daggers at the ground, Eshek stomped back to Bermondsey and sat down beside him again, her shoulders sharp enough to cut. She was silent for a moment, just fuming, before she added in that frustrated conciliatory tone that came at the end of an argument, "and I'm not doubting your stupid curse. I'm just saying that whatever happens, grandmother's curse or no grandmother's curse, we're just going to have to deal with it. And I'd like it," she growled stubbornly, "if you would be there to deal with it with me, but if you're not, I'll cope. And if you need some time to think about it, I can go. You can come find me when you've made up your mind."
Eshek sat for a moment longer before standing, giving Ber a grumpy knock against his jaw with her forehead without making eye contact, and stalking back into the dense ferns.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Oct 1, 2021 20:16:07 GMT -5
He wasn't a cat without a contingency plan. He was a cat who hated surprises. He wasn't a cat to take unnecessary risks. He was a cat who needed everything to be in its place. Perhaps one would call Bermondsey picky, neurotic even, in the way he had organized everything in its place. There was not a single blade of grass out of place in the world of his mind; he had always been a control freak. Eshek was the absolute opposite. She loved the lack of control, loved the adrenaline. She was a cat who seemed to relish in surprises, in the way she adapted to change.
They were two different things. He was negentropy to her entropy.
He had expected her tirade. Of course, she didn't believe in it, if he had been in her position, he'd probably doubt it too. There was a part of him that didn't want to lose whatever this was. There weren't many he could consider a friend, and Eshek had somehow become one of them. The tom had always been soft somewhere; he didn't want to disappoint her. Still, everything about this situation was screaming for him to leave, to run as far as he could, to never return. This wasn't natural. This wasn't something he could do.
"I need time to think," he mumbled, as she bumped against his jaw, "I can't decide right now." He couldn't get rid of the anxieties, the worries, the incessant need for everything to be under control, no matter how much he tried right now. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth."
I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth. Eshek flicked her tail tip at him as she slid into the ferns and disappeared from sight, her scent fading soon after. As she loped through the gloomy forest with a lonely, muddled frown creasing between her eyes, she didn’t blame him, wasn’t mad at him, not truly - whatever happened, whether he decided to be a part of their kits’ lives and hers or not, she would never stop caring about him. And if he chose to reject them, she would accept it, but she’d never stop wishing he had decided otherwise, and her heart would never stop aching. But either way, she knew he needed time.
Unlike almost everyone she had ever known, he didn’t just rush blindly into the chaos of decisions and juggle the consequences later. That was precisely what set him apart for her, what made him an utter oddity and a particular mountain she had to puzzle out and conquer, befriend, circle round and round to understand, stake an innocent, joyful claim to if only in the sense that anyone who saw the flag at the summit would know that Eshek had done the impossible and succeeded, the popular girl finishing the weird dork’s sentences. It was a friendship she had never had before - he and her were the sort that would never normally cross paths, much less become close. And that complete difference was what made Ber mean so much to her, because everyone else she loved was so utterly like her. To have someone who wasn’t, who challenged her and argued with her and thought things through so she didn’t have to, was special beyond description. And to lose that would break her heart beyond repair.
A few days later, Eshek had just begun to show. Wandering quietly along the DayClan border, she was unusually listless, batting half-heartedly at dry, fallen leaves with soft paws and paying no attention to birds when they startled and threw themselves shrieking into the sky. Bermondsey still hadn’t shown up to tell her his decision and the harsh reality of having to possibly raise these kits by herself was starting to settle over her. Until that morning, even she didn’t think she’d properly realised just how much she wanted a partner in this. She needed a partner in everything - a partner in crime, a partner to watch the stars with, a partner to lounge with her in camp and go on adventures and get into trouble with. She was a two package deal in everything she did. And being a mother was all she’d ever wanted to be, only second to being someone’s mate - to have no one to share that with, to have no one to watch her kits take their first steps and say their first words and become warriors or hunters with, was a possibility more empty and terrifying than anything she’d ever faced before. She wanted Bermondsey to be a part of this more than she’d possibly wanted anything.
A gentle kick in her stomach made her stop. Smiling quietly to herself, Eshek sat down and touched a paw to her belly. “I know, I’m nervous, too,” she told the kit in a tender voice so unlike the harsh tones Eshek usually used. She lowered herself carefully onto a pile of crunchy brown leaves, still smiling misty-eyed at her stomach and purring quietly to the kits within it. Her fur was unusually sleek and shiny, healthier than it had ever been. In truth, despite her melancholy at the possibility of having to face this adventure alone, she was happier than she’d been in all her life. The look on her face - the soft joy in her eyes - showed that beyond any doubt.
If Bermondsey was to be frank, he still hadn't wrapped his head around all of this yet. It felt impossible to him. Kits. He was more than convinced he'd never make a good father. He was adamant that the family curse existed. He felt as if every part of him screamed at him to run, to leave this place lest the curse truly found him and ended him right here and then...and yet, he had listened too. The way Eshek had spoken, the way she had reassured him that nothing would go wrong.
He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that there was nothing they couldn't handle. He wanted to believe that there was a chance, a hope that things could turn out fine. Safiya's kits had...mixed results. It wasn't as if Charlotte had tried to kill her mother, after all, and he hoped at least that Aleksy and Evenie were doing fine. From the last time he had spoken to their respective families, they had seemed well-adjusted enough.
Could it be true? Could there really be a chance that things would be fine? He didn't realize his paws had taken him to DayClan's territory, or how he had immediately caught her scent and gravitated towards it. It was rather difficult really, to pretend that he didn't care. Had it been any other cat, perhaps he wouldn't have, but as much as Eshek annoyed him, as much as she constantly put him in danger and ignored every single boundary he had set, as much as she constantly ribbed him and embarrassed him in public and nearly killed him...well, she was as close as a best friend he had ever had.
He spotted her quickly enough, her light pelt in stark contrast from the red and gold hues of the forest ground, and the way her eyes were half-lidded, almost closed, the contentment on her face, the softness in her rounded form...he stood for a moment, gathering his nerves and just...watching as if revealing himself would change the scene from something soothing to something rough around the edges.
Still, he couldn't sit back forever. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally emerged from the trees. "You're looking well," he spoke, trying to keep the awkwardness out of his voice.
At Bermondsey's voice, Eshek looked over her shoulder, letting out a little hum of recognition. When she spoke, she might have been aiming for dismissive and annoyed, not wanting him to know she had been waiting fretfully for him, but her voice just came out as drowsy and tender, her eyes still half-lidded. "Oh, Ber, you came," she greeted him, not getting up from where she was laid out on the dry leaves. They crackled beneath her as she leaned back, parting her jaws in a deep yawn. "Yeah, I feel okay, too. No more morning sickness. I'm just so tired all the time." Her voice was intimate and harmless, a lioness, for the time being, tamed.
She dropped back fully onto her side, looking up at him upside down. She was getting very used to seeing him from this angle. "Have you decided?" she asked softly. Even through the drowsiness, she could feel that familiar thrum of anxiety, of fear, of hope she dared not think on too closely in case fate dashed it - more than anything in the world, and more than perhaps she had even fully realised now that he was standing there in front of her, about to decide the course of her life and their kits', she wanted him to say yes. Yes, he'd raise them with her. Yes, he'd be a part of all their lives. Even as she lay there looking unconcerned, her heart was beginning to hammer, faintly visible through her short white fur. She drew in a breath to hide it.
He shifted uneasily once more. She had never spoken to him in such a...normal way? If she wasn't shrieking she was shouting. He was sure he'd be deaf by now if he didn't make it a point to walk a little farther away whenever she was in that mood. Still, there was a softness about her he had never noticed. He couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like, to truly live a normal life free of that fear that was ever-present in the marrow of his bones. Would they have been mates in another lifetime? He barely wanted to entertain that notion, but it persisted.
Then she was already asking the question. Had he decided? No, he hadn't. He didn't think he'd ever fully decide whether he wanted to be a father. He surely didn't, but why did he feel that sense of responsibility, that insatiable desire to just...make sure she was fine? That weird tingle of fear whenever he thought he might be disappointing her?
"I don't want to promise anything I can't deliver," he admitted, as he looked to the ground, to his paws, unable to meet her pondering gaze, "but I...I thought about what you said a lot. About how...maybe my parents did play a part in what our family was like...and well, maybe if I wasn't as batsheet crazy as my dad was...maybe they'd turn out a little better than my siblings and I, you know?"
It was as close as a yes to come out of his mouth, but it was clear he still had his reservations.
The second Ber started with 'I don't want to promise anything I can't deliver', Eshek had to physically stop herself from sucking in a shaky, relieved breath and looking as tearfully happy as she felt; but even as she tried to maintain an impassive expression, forcing herself to stay seated and allowing herself to sit only a little more upright so she didn't just launch herself at Ber and tackle him in a grateful hug, there was a slight wet sheen to her eyes and she couldn't keep the smile completely off her face.
She nodded along as he spoke, little quick, eager bursts - she'd agree to anything, she just wanted to keep him on this track, with encouragement and by showing that she was willing to bend to any conditions he made, and not let him get spooked and start back-tracking. "Yeah," she agreed, with a final few nods, and her voice was slightly breathless. She could see he was still holding back, but this was a start. A wonderful start. She stood, a little clumsier and slower than she usually was, and padded towards him. "Whatever you want, Ber, what-whatever rules you wanna put down or anything like that, I'll do it." Eshek sat down in front of him, trying to catch his gaze, her eyes gentle and a brighter, clearer blue than they'd ever been. "We'll give these kits the happy upbringing we never had. I just want you in their lives - and mine. They won't be born for another two moons - we have time to-to think, and to prepare, and to work out how we want to do things. Y'know?" She grinned at him, big and happy, and it was so genuine.
"And if you need time now, too, then that's okay - too." She laughed at the overuse of the word. Her voice was equally tender as she continued. "I don't need you here - I have a medicine cat and friends, and a little cannibal who eats kittypets. So you don't have to feel trapped. We'll be parents together, but you don't have to start being one for a while yet. I can take it for the both of us for now." She smiled at him again, eyes not leaving his face.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Oct 6, 2021 7:29:25 GMT -5
He didn't really know what to think. She was practically giving him full reign over anything for the sake of him staying; he had never really been given that kind of power, at least, not willingly. He couldn't help but furrow his brow for a brief moment, before smoothing his features once more. "That won't be necessary," he spoke with a shrug, "at least not yet. I don't have any experience with this sort of thing; I suppose I'll have to set rules when I...understand my role better." He spoke of this as if this was a science project, but he never had any reference to being a father otherwise. In fact, he could remember a brief moment as a trainee, soon after the blood of their mother had run freely through the camp when he and his sister had sworn off having kits. Ever. Surely, the past version of himself would've been disappointed, angry even.
Had it even been something like love, he'd surely have turned it all into resentment by now. He was often cool and collected but when push came to shove, he'd always get his way. From the start he knew he wasn't capable of something like that in the ice-cold heart he had, but this wasn't love, nor obligation, nor duty. He didn't understand it, and while he hated the idea of anything he couldn't control, and to learn about control was to investigate and prod at anything that didn't quite fit it. A scientist at heart, he'd prove whether the curse was real or not, once and for all. If they truly were insane, if any single one of them turned out like his brother with that evil hatred in its eye, he'd surely kill them all himself. That was one thing he could promise.
Of course, Eshek didn't need to know the darkness that laid underneath his gaze, nor did she need to see the flash of envy that seemed to cross his eyes at the idea of anyone else taking his rightful spot. Bermondsey had never been good at sharing, despite all of the attempts they made to socialize him properly.
"When I say I'd do it, I didn't mention a start or end date of this contract," he replied dryly, before shaking his head, "you should be in the mansion or somewhere safe rather than wandering about doing god knows what you usually do. No more shopping cart surfing. No more...whatever it is that you do....eating kittypets? I don't care. You shouldn't be putting yourself in danger. Maybe that should be rule number one."
"I'm sorry," she replied, her teeth poking out just a bit more than they usually did as her lips twitched back ever so slightly and her voice icy. "There must be some confusion. It sounds like you're telling me what to do. I meant rules about the kits' upbringing, Bermondsey, not about me. I'll stay in the mansion if I want to stay in the mansion, just like I'll stay in DayClan if I want to stay in DayClan and kill kittypets if Innocentia wants to kill kittypets." Her voice dropped impossibly quieter. "You're putting yourself in danger right now." After a second more of holding his gaze with her own cold, challenging one, Eshek whipped around, slapping Ber across the face with her tail, and stalked back to the leaf pile like a queen returning to her throne.
Maybe Ber had a slight point - she'd lost her last litter precisely because she'd been adventuring where she shouldn't have been - but she wasn't going to say that; he had to be put in his place before he got a taste for anyone and everyone doing what he wanted. She loved Ber, she loved Luc and Pinesimmer - but if any one of them tried to put restrictions on her, they'd leave the interaction bloody and broken. Or, well, not broken and bloody if that was more of a message for Luc. Back on the brown and red, crackling leaves, Eshek relaxed a little, looking back at Ber down the length of her nose bridge. She was still seething at his use of the word 'contract', though. He blew irritatingly hot and cold - and while it may have worked with anyone else, she'd seen enough of the idiotic, nervous, gentle-eyed Ber who'd become her best friend to know when he was putting on his distant Warden act. And, frankly, she didn't like that distant Warden very much right now. He was pissing her off. "Anything else? Am I allowed to be happy my kits will have a father for a second - or half a second, if that works more to your schedule, I'd hate to inconvenience you or be anything unbecoming of an obedient, submissive royal mistress - or are you going to keep trying to impress me with your Bermondsey act? He's very imposing. His mother would be proud. Oh! Wait. Wasn't that what we were trying to avoid?"
Growling quietly, she shook her head and looked away. She knew it would take time and effort for Ber to consciously unlearn enough of his parents' teachings for the sake of their kits to stop falling back on engrained behaviour but this was the ugliest display of the cold prince that she'd seen yet.
Maybe any tom other than himself would've withered at the glare and icy tone she used, but Bermondsey wasn't any other tom. If she was right and he had inherited the imposing tone from his mother, he certainly inherited his stubbornness from his father. His eyes simply narrowed at the tantrum he knew she was about to throw at him. There was no risk if there was a fallout other than...well, losing a friend and for her, a father for those said kits. It wasn't a consequence he wanted to indulge, but there were certain things in his life he planned not to budge on. Perhaps she had made him take a step back only for this, the fact that he'd let them live for now, but a cat molded of ice didn't melt so easily even upon Eshek's fiery temper.
The moment her tail came up to slap at his face, his paw reached up, immediately pinning the offending item to the ground with a growl. He didn't lose his temper easily, and perhaps that was why when he did, he seemed like a different person. He wasn't like his sister nor his mother, words spitting with fire like a dragon swooping down to devour the sheep that stood restlessly in wait, no, he was the creeping of ice upon the pipes, freezing the world over, creeping upon your bones until eternal sleep took over. "Try me," he spoke, matching the said tone, his eyes holding a challenge, "though once again, I'd recommend you not to do so. You shouldn't be putting yourself in danger, like I said." He didn't know why she was reacting like this; his words made logical sense. Don't put yourself and your kits in danger while you're vulnerable. He couldn't see how any of that was unreasonable to ask for.
Still, in his anger, his words were still unspoken but clear as day. Just because I agree doesn't mean I won't go back on my word. He didn't mess with fate the way she did; a threat was a threat, a threat meant it needed to be eradicated. His ear flicked as she brought his mother back into the story. As much as he had a difficult relationship with his parents–he hated them, he loved them, he never wanted to be them, here he was pursuing their goals nevertheless–his ugly sneer reared itself like a snake, rattling in warning.
"She would be, wouldn't she? They always wanted a royal cushy bloodline, you'd love her, really. She always wanted kits who could murder for her sake. If she was still around and she thought you unworthy, you wouldn't be around for much longer," he practically spat, unimpressed with her attitude, "all I meant was that I'm not waiting until they pop out to make sure they're fine, Eshek. You don't want to make sure they come out alive? That's not my problem."
Eshek spat in surprise when Bermondsey slammed her tail against the ground. If it were anyone else she’d have backhanded them so hard they bled from their nose; but instead she just stood there in deadly silence, meeting his gaze over her shoulder until he finally lifted his paw and let her tail go, upon which she moved away so slowly, her pelt twitching again and again along her spine, that the slowness seemed violent. The quiet was broken only by a low, continuous growling low in her throat.
Laying stiffly upon the throne of red leaves, she listened to Bermondsey’s cold tirade with a matching sneer. She wouldn’t say it, but the implication that his mother wouldn’t approve of her hurt. However twisted his family was, and even though they weren’t mates, her longing for a mother had always given her the hope that her eventual mother-in-law would fill that loving, guiding role. To have that thrown back in her face so callously stung the part of her heart that hadn’t changed a bit since she was just a lonely kit. But even though everything he was saying to her was so icy, one thing he did made all the fight seep out of her - he called her by her name. It was such a stupid thing, so insignificant that he wouldn’t even have thought twice about it, but it was one of the first times he’d ever done it. She threw around his name like a joyful little toy, corrupting and shortening it to new lengths with every repetition - but, aside from the occasional mockery of her Clan name, he’d never really reciprocated. It was said in anger, and it was said unthinkingly, but it was said. And the fact that it just slipped out so easily, like she’d just become an inarguable facet of his life, almost made her want to cry. Even as he continued, all she could feel was that silent closeness between them. He was infuriating, and right now he was spitting bloody murder at her and not thinking any of these sentimental thoughts about her, but the very fact that he was even so riled up meant he cared - about their kits, about her. She was just Eshek to him - his Eshek. God, she really must be pregnant and hormonal to just be feeling irritated, hopeless love for him as he yelled at her. Truth be told, she was slightly turned on, too. But she wasn’t going to mention that. There was almost a bemused little smile on her face by this point, her whole body loose with the exhaustion of her anger.
“Of course I want to make sure they come out alive,” she replied when he was finished, and her voice was disarmingly calm, like she was explaining a simple, old fact to him - and not cold calm, just a genuine kind, drowsy and devoid of enough emotion to almost be called happy. “You know I lost my last litter before they were even born. All I want is to see these kits come into the world and be able to take care of them. That’s all I want, Ber. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her voice was soft with tiredness. “I can’t make any promises that I won’t put myself in danger. But I’ll hold back from the sort of things we’ve done together until they’re born. There’s plenty of time once they’re old enough for perilous family outings.” She grinned, crooked and toothy and with her eyes heavy. “I know you’re trying to take care of me, in your asshole way. I’m sorry for bringing your mother into it. It was a low blow.” She lowered her head slowly onto her paws as she spoke, her voice growing quieter and quieter. “And you hurt my tail.”
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Oct 8, 2021 8:32:05 GMT -5
He knew her rage and he knew her fury well, but there was a part of him that also accounted for the feelings they shared, whether it was love or hatred, that would most likely leave them at each other's throats but claws sheathed. His eyes had stayed steely, watching her every move as if preparing for at least some type of retaliation just in case his judgment proved wrong, his head leaning forward, ducked lower than usual, like a snake ready to attack.
Her tone didn't match the anger that seemed to radiate from her in the growling noise that had been thick in the air just moments earlier. His ear twitched at the complete change of tone she had, now speaking as if she was ready to crawl into bed with that tired sort of voice one used to beckon another home into their nest. The sudden change shouldn't have surprised the tom–Eshek was pretty well known for her instant mood changes at this point–but still, the mounting anger that had grown and grown just moments before seemed to have reach the zenith of their swell, and was now retreating back to his usual impassive self.
The thing was that he knew about her past. Her death, her kits, all of that. Had it not been known, he'd surely have thrown all of this away without a second thought, but he knew. He knew that as much as he hated the thought of having his own kits, she didn't. She wanted the exact opposite of him. It wasn't enough to make him change his mind but it had been enough to make him hesitate, and that for Bermondsey, was almost just the same as changing his mind. He wasn't the kind of cat who was selfless–in fact, most would claim he only truly cared for himself at the top of a pile–but there had been a slight crack in that icy exterior for her.
"I don't want to see you dead," he spoke, the only admittance that he did care for her rather than being that cold, unfeeling cat who didn't have a heart, "and I can minimize the risks by a percentage but not entirely. There's only so much I can do to protect my family, you know."
He wasn't the type of cat who apologized. Apologies were a weakness, after all, but for a moment, his eyes widened in what could be interpreted as concern. "Maybe we should go see Charlotte," he suggested in a softer tone, "she's...not the best healer but she can make sure nothing's broken."
I don’t want to see you dead. “Stop, you’re practically spouting poetry at me. It’s disgusting.” Eshek leered up at him, thin and crooked, her eyes half-lidded and tired-soft. There’s only so much I can do to protect my family, you know. “Am I your family now, then?” Despite the bleary, teasing voice the question was asked in, full of the unspoken ’I don’t care if I am, you’re so cringey for even saying it’ her heart was squeezing. All she’d ever wanted was a family.
At Bermondsey’s fussing, Eshek raised her head and shook it slightly, drawing her tail around to run one scarred paw over it like it was a sentient creature like a nervous mouse and not part of her own body. “No, it’s fine. And anyway we have a medicine cat in DayClan. Better than your… niece. Does that make her my step-niece?” She looked over at him excitedly, like she’d just thought of something wonderful. “I’m gonna say it does.” She went back to petting her own tail, looking down at it with a smile on her face. Even if none of them wanted it, Esh’s desire for a large family meant that she was just going to adopt them all as her own. The softness in Ber’s voice and in his wide eyes also added to the happiness of her smile. As much as she loved Funk, and as much as he’d loved her, if she’d have done something worse than just get her tail hurt during her first pregnancy he’d have barked a laugh at her and called her an idiot for not being quicker to avoid it. It was nice, to be cared for for the first time.
She thought of ruining the moment by saying she wanted their kits to have a Clan name as well as one of their own to give them more options in their lives, but, as enjoyable as his horror and obstinance to that might be, for now she didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace with another argument. She’d wait to broach it when they were both calmer and ready for another fight. Then she’d grin at his refusal that they both knew she’d wear down in the end. But for now, the tranquil companionship of just having him standing there, however annoyed he still was, was enough for her.
After a minute or two of silence, with the breeze quietly rustling the browning leaves overhead and birds singing peacefully now and then from deeper in the forest, Eshek looked up at him and told him quietly, “thank you for choosing us. We’ll make it work.” Achingly aware that she might be rejected and trying not to let the tingle of nerves stop her, she raised her head higher, tilting her muzzle up to silently offer her nose for him to touch his own to. If he was leaving now, she wanted them to part with that little assurance of tenderness.
He snorted. The moment was definitely gone, if there had even been a moment. "Unfortunately," he drawled, "now you'll have to watch out for my murderous siblings who see this family as a hit list." It was unclear whether this was his brand of humour or whether he actually meant it. As much as his feelings were mixed about the curse that held them together, he genuinely cared for a few of them. Charlotte and the rest of Safiya's brood were one of them. Perhaps the rest of his litter could be considered too, despite the clear antagonism between the group.
The grey tom gave her a shrug. "You'll have to see how she reacts to that first," he spoke with a wry smirk, "I don't think she appreciates knowing more family, that's for sure. Better not tell her that you think your medicine cat is better than she is." As much as Charlotte seemed to be a lot softer than the rest of their family, anyone demeaning her work was a one-way street to food poisoning. Still, he had no complaints about her staying with her clan or whatnot; clan cats were safer sometimes. Less bloodthirsty. That was why he had dumped his first two with them in the first place.
Her words once reminded him of the choice he had made, one he wasn't sure he had made too lightly or not. He gave her a stiff nod before hesitating for a moment as she tilted her head upwards and for a moment, this all felt way too domestic as if they were genuinely mates rather than some one-night stand between a cat who certainly didn't want a family and one who certainly did.
He touched his nose to hers regardless, indulging in that single moment, before standing once more like the stiff soldier he was raised to be, giving her a nod and waving a tentative goodbye. "I'll see you around, I guess," he spoke awkwardly, before heading back to the border he called his own.
