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 tom's name was Ezekiel, at least this time around.
He had lived his life like a prophet for a god if the god had eyes like gold and fur as dark as night, standing in the same spot under a lamplight as he did in that moment. His boyish smirk and gleaming fur, groomed to perfection, had always made the ladies swoon, and in a city like this, the handsome tom cat was a ruler among men. There were few he didn't know, after all. It was strange for a cat like him to walk the streets as if he owned them; there wasn't any formal structure of cats among the cities, only rogues and loners in their little groups...
There were rarely cats he didn't know
it was funny too, how despite being a kittypet himself, he had found such a position among the ragged groups of the city. Cats always thought themselves stronger because they grew up scrappy, knowing how to fight, unwittingly ignoring the fact that a well-fed cat like himself, who had been allowed to wander the streets except with a definite home to return to, would have an advantage, that he was never weak with hunger, that he had all the time in the world and a full stomach to get what he wanted. It brought him great joy, to constantly find cats who doubted him, who assumed that he was just a soft, simpering kittypet with no will or drive to fight back, to rule a city like a spoiled, pampered prince.
They were wrong.
After all, he was a well-cared for cat, fed the best diets and given a taste of power, one who had trained his humans to wait hand at foot to his every need, surely had everything in his upbringing to be a ruler of men and beast alike, and among the city, he held scepter and crown as he sauntered through, the only kittypet who had assimilated–no, thrived–in the wilderness of the concrete alleys.
There were rarely cats he didn't know.
He was in his element, by the heavy bins that lined the alleyway where the best food was kept around, rasping a tongue across a paw, sitting above it all upon his throne of bricks, when he saw a silhouette of a cat slink through. Oh? Amusement shone in his eyes as he stared at his new toy; what cat would dare bother him here without invitation? His eyes gleamed in interest, as the sleek cat shone silver in the faint light. Surely this was someone he had never met before.
"Is there a reason you're here tonight?" he asked in dulcet tones, "I've never seen you around before."
The city was a sight to see. She could identify that this place was not a forest, though the cluster of skyscrapers did make it seem like a concrete jungle, but it was like nothing she ever could have imagined before. She wasn't exactly sure when the greenery faded away, only that it did and now she was surrounded by bright lights and smog and more sounds than she could process.
She didn't cower away from it, strange as this wide eyed wild cat seemed to be. Instead, she stopped to enjoy the way monsters whipped the wind around her and considered herself quite the natural cityslicker so far, her twitching nose a snare for any scents detected beneath the exhaust fumes. She'd always been an excellent tracker, and it made her quite the dangerous predator, as the lowly street rats soon discovered. The first one she killed was to sate her hunger. The meat wasn't as lean or flavorful on her tongue, but she liked it enough to kill the second one for sport, devouring only half of it before moving on.
Her silver jaws were still tinged pink when she ran across the tom that would be most noteworthy in her ventures, though she wasn't aware just how notable he was yet. He carried himself with easy swagger; she slunk around like a predator. They were from very different worlds, but Chelsea was enraptured by this new place and its strange nature and cultures. It made her a little less measured, a little more willing.
"Is there a reason you want to know?" Over the course of their relationship, tangled together by some stroke of destiny or fate or just dumb luck, Ezekiel would find that the wild cat he intercepted wasn't so easy to pick apart. Her dark eyes shone up at him, a distinctive wry glitter in them.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Dec 12, 2021 17:58:53 GMT -5
There was something about this small cat, so young to be wandering alone in the city, that made him curious, ever so curious about her. The other kittypets were easy pickings; he had easily climbed to the top of the pecking order with them, and even the city cats, half-starved and cowering, had been easy to buy with his golden platter, his banquet of desires. There was never a lot of fight in them after they saw how much he could offer them, but this cat didn't have the same placid look on her face as the others often did, ready to use any underhanded method to ensure their survival.
No, one look at her and he knew she was a fighter. His own silver eyes gleamed for a moment as he observed, before giving her a charming grin. She wasn't a cat he'd need to fight, no. She was a cat he'd have to win over. His expression softened, and his lips turned into a smile, politely curious, almost kind. "No reason," he shrugged offhandedly, "other than we've never met. Are you new? You don't...look like a kittypet either, so I assume you must've come from somewhere farther away..."
He leaped off the bins and to the ground, so that they stood eye-level, his head tilted to the side. He spotted the pink that tinged her jaws; ah, so she knew how to hunt. A wild cat who could survive. How...interesting. "Are you looking for a place to stay, or food to eat?" he asked, glancing at the bins that loomed over them, "you know, the city's pretty unwelcoming to new faces and it's not safe to sleep out here in the open. There are always other gangs of cats that hunt for new blood to terrorize, or worse, the catchers. They'll eat you alive, you know."
The tom blinked, before giving Chelsea a small, almost sheepish smile. "Oh, how rude of me, I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?" he hummed, "I'm Ezekiel by the way. I live at that house at the end of the street, the dark blue one with the wooden door." It was easier to show that he was a housecat to some of these creatures out here; they'd often be less wary, assuming he was of no consequence.
He sure was a bit more friendly than anyone she'd met before, she'd give him that much. She would almost be endeared to it if it wasn't the stupidest thing she'd probably ever seen before, a cat so confident he didn't think he was in danger. Ironically, Chelsea was in the same predicament, looking at this honeyed tom like he was to be her next meal, ready to flex her status as a slayer, one trained to kill from the moment she could bat a mossball.
The way his paws caused the plastic bin cover to flex with a sharp pop when he leaped from it made her start, the silky fur along her spine raising but she forced it to level back out. Everything about this place sounded and smelled and felt so unnatural, she couldn't help but to be completely intoxicated by it, affording her a brighter mood than she would have garnered if he'd crossed paths with her back at home. She laughed, "Of course I'm not a kittypet, so I think I'll be okay on my own. I've seen more treacherous cats where I'm from than this place has in it combined, you know." He didn't, because they were in two different worlds. This tom was a king of his realm, while she was a princess without a crown, her right to survival hinging on her own talents.
She followed his gesture towards the comely home at the far end of the street, what with their manicured lawn and cutesy outdoor decorations. She was forming a dangerous impression of this tom, figuring him weak and fearful, as would be the way kittypets were described to her all her life. "Ah, so you're the kittypet, no? A cute place you've got there. Is Ezekiel the name your humans gave you or do they have something more degrading for you, like Shadow or Patches?"
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Dec 21, 2021 19:29:27 GMT -5
She looked at him as if she was a predator, but Ezekiel's smirk didn't fade. Perhaps overconfidence was a kittypet thing, but he had never felt threatened by the strange cats who came and went, unlike the small-minded cats that had lived in his neighborhood, always gossiping and fretting about how the wild cats out there would eat their kits or something silly like that. Still, the riff-raff was unpredictable, and his eye never left Chelsea at all.
Still, she seemed like a lost puppy, the way her fur seemed to rise at any odd sound. Ah, so she was a prideful one. "Of course of course," he replied with a chuckle, "but even if you've seen worse, a cat like you could use a little kindness too, don't you think?" He looked upon her with a smile that seemed too kind, the wrinkling of his eyes feigned to look as if he was just a simple cat without any sense of motive at all.
Her query made him laugh. "No no," he shook his head, whiskers twitching with amusement, "not every human lacks taste, you know. You'll find that some cats are trained by their humans, but some humans are trained by their cats. It just depends on what kind of human you have. Trust me," he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "they're a lot easier to deal with than other cats sometimes, and the best part is, they come with perks."
The tom gestured towards the cat door, and into the kitchen, where the water fountain ran and fresh chicken hearts and other offal was waiting in a bowl, with toppings galore. There were toys and a soft bed and a cat tree befitting of a king, decorating the house. "Welcome," he chuckled, "mi casa is your casa or whatever they say."
Stepping inside was like being transported to an entirely new realm. Chelsea wasn't sure if it was a life for her, but, as her eyes scoped this palace, she could easily be lost in the splendor of Ezekiel's possessions. There was no strife here. Everything he saw, it all belonged to him. Her claws clicked on the marble long before she became aware that they were out, restlessly kneading at the tiles when she would pause, trying to ground herself somehow.
She explored the place to her heart's content. She ventured first throughout all the rooms, taking in the scents of each, and then she circled back to test out what each one had to offer. She climbed the shelves on the walls, gorged herself on the offering of chicken hearts, drank from the endless fountain, circled the aquarium and considered snatching one of the intriguing residents up (but she didn't, because she was full), and swatted one of the cold, porcelain knickknacks until it plummeted to the floor and shattered.
"And for all this," she finally turned back to the tom, "you... what? Be a little silly? Purr for them? Does it not bother you to demean yourself for a human's entertainment, while others earn their keep?" It was practically ingrained in League culture to fight for what you wanted, but Chelsea was also the child of the Nemesis and Warden- former, she reminded herself, the sting still fresh. She never had to work very hard; she was afforded the best mentors, the best prey, the best of everything she could ever need or desire. The main difference was she never had to roll over for anyone else, either.
Was it the possibility of not having the best in life that moved her to leave her home behind?
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Feb 12, 2022 19:13:58 GMT -5
His laughter was a bright sound, amused and impressed by Chelsea's thinking. Of course, a forest cat had a different way of seeing the world, a different sort of life, and he knew there was going to be a strange disconnect between his own life and hers, but hearing her say it out loud made it all the more amusing.
"Demean myself? For their entertainment? Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what it's like to be a kittypet, do you?" he mused, climbing up the gorgeous cat tree until he was at the very top, before looking at her, with both amusement and a sort of arrogance only a cat in his position could have.
"We're cats, darling, we don't get trained by the humans, being trained is for the dogs. We're their gods. Have you seen them? If they're not worshipping me here, they're watching videos of us on their little screens, or talking about us, or getting us more food. I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I've trained them so they get me my meals at set times in the day, and when I want my back scratched, they'll do it for me and when I don't want that, they'll leave me alone. Whenever my claws itch and I'm bored, they'll entertain me doing their silly little tricks to get me to interact with them."
He was a socialite, after all, the top of society, the richest of riches. "Cats from the outside wouldn't understand," he almost sounded a little dismissive, "and so many of my neighbors are...what do you call it, neue-riche? You can tell. They're the kind who wear the flashy collars that scream expensive, but don't know how to act. It's all about attitude, darling."
The tom gave her a little smirk. "You seem like a cat who could learn the ropes," he purred, "you'd make a good queen bee around here. I could introduce you to a couple of friends. They'd love you." Of course the other cats would love to meet Chelsea, as they would if they were going to the zoo to see an exotic animal, but he wouldn't mention it like that.
