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 a night-black pine forest, Kier continued to cheerily rub Sparklepaw’s temples with his forepaws as the apprentice reclined on a sacrificial slab of stone in the middle of the woods, slowly regaining consciousness after not being bashed over the head with a rock. Somewhere close by an owl hooted. Kier wasn’t yet deputy of NightClan so it was rather confusing why he had brought Sparklepaw here — but then, he hadn’t brought him, had he? They’d always been there. Kier was even still wearing the little red jumper, now better suited to the cool climes of the forest. You’re the crazy one.
NoIdidn'tsayanythingIneverthinkaboutdoinganythingbad! “Oh, come now,” Kier purred, “everyone thinks of doing bad things. Why should you be any different? There’s no shame in it.” He smiled down at him languidly, still gently caressing his temples.
Sparklepaw groaned as he re-entered the world of the living, eyes opening slowly. "G'mornin', Kier," he muttered, leaning into the tom's touch a little more. The paws on his head felt nice. Nicer than the herd of proverbial zebras that were stampeding across the proverbial grasslands of his non-proverbial parietal lobe, anyway. "Y'know, s'weird--I was jus' havin' a dream 'bout you, havin' this exact conversation, but in a different place..."
He blinked himself into full awareness, which was most people's half-awareness. "Well, it's just..." he paused and looked to the forest floor. "...I'm, y'know, not very...liked, by my denmates. So if I started going around doing everything I wanted to do to them all the time..."
“Good morning, Sparklepaw,” he purred back, despite the clear night-time sounds of insects and hunting birds and the cold rustle of the midnight breeze through the pine needles. “Well, dreams are strange — but I’m flattered I was in it.”
Kier nodded sympathetically, the movements of his paws growing softer. “In my experience, being liked is insignificant. They’ll like funny, kind, shy — being those things is as easy as breathing, anyone with half a brain can pretend. But being feared, being admired — those are the things worth courting. Why not just do the things you want to do? Say hello to the pretty girl, pretty boy,” he swept his paws up over Sparklepaw’s ears, fluffing up the fur with gentle but assured paws, “kill the idiot bothering you. All very easy things. Very rewarding, too.”
Sparklepaw blushed, even though cats couldn't really do that. "Well, I don't wanna...kill any of them," he admitted, "since I think, maybe, they'll end up being more useful to SunClan than I would be, and they have families and stuff who'd be sad about it...I dunno. I don't wanna hurt them, maybe, but I want them to...feel bad about the things they say to me, and if they're dead they wouldn't be able to feel bad. But I'm not threatening, or scary, or anything like that, and I don't think I ever will be, so I decided one day to just pretend I don't feel sad about it and so far it's worked like a charm!" He gave Kier a big toothy smile, eyes dull.
“I believe that’s called emotional repression with quite a hefty dose of inferiority complex,” Kier replied with genuine-sounding concern, frowning down at the apprentice’s grin like he were a heartrending time bomb waiting to go off. “But anyway,” he continued, letting go of his temples and sweeping down beside the other tom to pick up one of his paws; as he continued, he used his other paw to mix a little brush made of pine needles into a bark bowl filled with bright yellow nail paint from crushed up flowers and gently coat it onto Sparklepaw’s claws. It was clear from how little attention he paid to the task, just darting his eyes down to it every so often but mostly keeping his gaze on Sparklepaw from under his lashes, that he had done it before. He tilted his head as he worked, reaching behind himself now and again to recoat the brush. “You don’t need to be threatening to hurt or undermine people. You can do it while being perfectly pleasant. A word here or there… Quietly chipping away at their self-esteem or sense of reality, that’s the way to do it.”
Sparklepaw bit back a snort. “Cherrypaw has too much self-esteem,” he muttered, “you could chip away at it for moons—years, probably, and by the time you’re done with her she’d probably have the self-esteem of a normal cat....Wait, th-that was kind of m-mean of me!” he stammered, his blush worsening. “I didn’t mean it! I really don’t think she’s an arrogant, t-two faced hussy or a-anything!”
good on you sparklepaw for leaking exactly who you'd like to see suffer
Kier’s eyes flicked up from where he was focusing momentarily on filing down the side of one of Sparklepaw’s claws before painting it, a grin spreading quickly across his face. “It was mean,” he agreed, but he sounded far from scolding. “And what precisely would you like her to feel? How would you go about it?” There were far too many arrogant, two-faced hussies in the world, he thought — as if he weren’t an arrogant, two-faced hussy. Double standards, you know.
As he went back to filing Sparklepaw’s claw, and then coating the brush to paint it, he kept his eyes on him all the while, focused and intent. Hurting people vicariously through others was a different kind of high to doing it himself, almost better. Plus, weirdly, Kier was being gentle with Sparklepaw, like he was exempt from his general mistreatment of everyone — probably just because he found him funny and harmless, and sort of cute. He wasn’t manipulating the other tom; he was just drawing back the curtains to reveal simmering anger that was already there. “By the by,” he added casually, nodding to the apprentice with his brows quirked; a softly pulsating green light emanating from him washed over Kier’s black fur and created a little ring of green that faded at the edges back to the black of the forest, “you are aware that you glow? In the dark?” He didn’t sound surprised or impressed; nothing in the Clans awed him anymore, after the flood of impossible things he’d been exposed to in rapid succession since arriving.
“Oh yeah my siblings and I glow in the dark it’s pretty neat huh,” Sparklepaw murmured, brow furrowed. His attention was elsewhere, focused on the words Kier had spoken to him mere moments ago. And what precisely would you like her to feel? He thought back to the moons he’d spent in the apprentice’s den with her, the harassment he’d suffered at her paws when she’d moved to the nursery and turned his denmates against him.
When Sparklepaw was no more than two or three years old, he’d spent an afternoon with his siblings in the elders’ den, listening to them tell their stories and impart their wisdom onto the younger generation. What stuck with his siblings may have been the tales of guts and glory, the legendary exploits of those SunClan now called heroes, but those stories had failed to stick with Sparklepaw. What he remembered were the stories of kindness, barely more than a few sentences long and sandwiched between great acts of courage or physical prowess.
Sparklepaw was the first to admit he didn’t have much going for him. He wasn’t a talented hunter, or fighter, or skilled at anything, really; when he’d told Poppypurr, the elder who’d taken a shine to him, about his fears, she’d reassured him that his ‘nurturing personality’ was his greatest strength, that his Clanmates would eventually appreciate growing up around someone who always encouraged them to be their best selves.
What was Cherrypaw’s ‘best self’ like? Was she already at her limit? Or was there still progress to be made?
“Cherrypaw is pregnant,” he admitted, lowering his head. “She should be having the kits soon—I mean, she’s been pregnant for like ten months now, so, like, surely she will...But anyway, sometimes I think that, maybe, she hits me and traps me inside the cave for days and stuff is because she doesn’t like me, but...if that happened to someone she does like, like one of her kits, then maybe...maybe she’d understand how she makes me feel, and she’d feel bad, and...y’know, she’d be sorry and would never do it to anyone again. And that’s kind of how I want her to feel. Because all I really want for everyone is to be a good person.”
As Sparklepaw began to speak, Kier slowly let go of his paw and leaned forward to rest his chin on the stone slab, watching with him with intent eyes that flitted back and forth across the apprentice’s face. He looked innocent, slightly wonderstruck; truly terrible things always did that to him. “Pregnant?” he echoed, his voice quiet, and a little shiver ran through him. Because all I really want for everyone is to be a good person. Even Kier could see how utterly twisted that logic was, and he was almost unnerved, like the king of the macabre had met an unassuming little thing who could think of things beyond even his wildest cruelties — almost. It was sickening, in a way; Kier was cruel because he was cruel, and he was aware of it — but here was this sweet apprentice, suggesting harming a new mother’s kit because it might make her kinder.
But most of what Kier felt was just pure, quivering ecstasy, like he’d unwittingly stumbled upon the jackpot. “Well, who am I to stand in your way?” he breathed, and his voice shook slightly around his reverential smile; he hadn’t blinked in minutes, hadn’t looked away from Sparklepaw, just kept staring up at him with his chin still resting on the stone and his eyes far wider than they usually were, like he was gazing at something with the potential to be indescribably beautiful. Finally, he leaned back, looking away and going back to mixing the brush in with the nail polish. “But I doubt you’d have the gall to actually hurt a kit. When they look up at you with those trusting, innocent eyes — it takes a sick person to betray them. No, you couldn’t do it.”
i would like everyone to know i had nothing to do with the turn this has taken and i’m as floored as everyone else in the audience
“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt the kit, y’know...?” Sparklepaw said. “Because the kit hasn’t really done anything wrong, and I wouldn’t want to, I dunno...scar it for life or something. But maybe if Cherrypaw thought her kit was hurt, then she would...No, you’re right. I don’t have the head for this sort of thing.” He looked down at the little patterns of colour Kier had drawn onto his claws. Claws that had never spilt blood before, never used in a battle that wasn’t a mock fight against one of his own denmates. He wasn’t ready.
But then again, he wasn’t alone anymore, was he...?
“I couldn’t do it,” Sparklepaw agreed, resolution strengthening, “alone, anyway. Maybe if there was someone I could ask for help, then...” He looked back up at Kier, not once blinking. “...Then I could probably do it then. With that person.”
A grin spread across Kier’s face as the other tom’s tone changed, but he said nothing. He just held Sparklepaw’s gaze, a sort of pleased, teasing imperiousness in his expression, like he was dangling something just out of the apprentice’s reach. He wanted him to say it. He had something Sparklepaw wanted, and he wanted to hear him ask for it.
Kier leaned in, still holding his gaze, till their noses were practically brushing. “Shame you don’t have that person, though,” he purred with that same teasing aloofness. “It would be hard to find someone like that.” He didn’t blink either, just kept that grin on his face.
Sparklepaw was silent for a long moment, barely breathing as he held Kier's gaze. Then he huffed slightly in what was almost a laugh, eyes flickering to the side for a second out of embarrassment. "I was trying to ask you," he murmured, "subtly. But I guess subtle isn't really a good look on me, huh...?" He held his breath again, awaiting Kier's response.
Kier's grin grew, joyful with the victory. "Everything is a good look on you, Sparklepaw," he purred, giving him a lingering, teasing look as he pulled away. "Of course I'll help you - it would be my pleasure. We can take one of her kits, give it a perfectly lovely time, no fear, no violence - unless you want violence," he added, looking up again from where he'd gone back to painting Sparklepaw's claws, and his expectant expression was almost hopeful that he'd changed his mind; he turned back to his work, "and then it'll be back in a week or two once your Cherrypaw has had time to suffer. And if it doesn't work," he grinned, the words coinciding with the last brush stroke it took to finish his now-yellow claws, "we can work our way through the whole litter."
He held up Sparklepaw's paw, his pads warm against Kier's own. "There. Don't you look lovely? Much prettier than this Cherrypaw."
Sparklepaw held his paws up, watching the way the moonlight glinted off his claws. They did look...lovely, as Kier had put it. He’d never seen Cherrypaw’s claws looking as nice as these. Maybe she’d even be jealous of him, if she saw what Kier had done with them. “Thank you...” he murmured, blinking to break himself out of the spell.
“So...have you done, uhm, this kind of thing before?” Sparklepaw asked, trying to quell the eagerness in his tone. “I haven’t had a lot of—experience with this kind of thing. Obviously.”
"In a manner of speaking," Kier replied, and, drawing out a similar bowl of red nail polish, pushed it towards Sparklepaw with a quick "now do me." "Yes," he continued as he held out his claws for the apprentice, "well, I currently have a protégé, I call him - the son of the Warden of the League and one of the proxies." He grinned to himself, inordinately proud of that fact. "Poor little thing. He's already completely devoted to me - Stockholm Syndrome, you know. Soon he'll be the perfect brainwashed soldier." He was silent for a few seconds before he quickly added, "not that we'll do that to the kit. Unless you... unless you want to." That grin spread slowly across his face again as he gazed enticingly at Sparklepaw. "We could have matching toy soldiers. Very good for doing unpleasant tasks. Chores, that sort of thing - you'll never have to get yourself breakfast again."
That sounded like a little bit much for Sparklepaw, who wasn’t yet as much of a megalomaniac as Kier was. Still he held the thought in his mind, twisted it around like a Rubik’s cube (not sponsored!). “I like breakfast,” he said absently, taking the red nail polish from the other tom with just as little thought. He wasn’t sure if having a ‘toy soldier’ as Kier had put it was for him—Sparklepaw did like to help others, even if it got him yelled at sometimes. He was the toy soldier, in other words. But maybe, if Cherrypaw didn’t come around to him once she got her kit back...
...Well. There was no point speculating on things that far ahead in the future.
“OhbythewayI’mdefinitelygonnascrewthisupsorry,” Sparklepaw blurted out, suddenly realising what a horrible job he was about to do if Kier’s claws. He dipped the brush hesitantly into the polish, gave the largest of Kier’s claws its first coat. It was shaky, with large strips missed near the edges. Sparklepaw cringed just looking at it. Nowhere near as good as Kier’s. “So if we did...do the thing,” he stammered, giving the claw another coat of polish, “I know that Cherrypaw likes to visit this one cave we have in SunClan with a bunch of glow-worms, and she talks about bringing her kits along to see them...I was thinking that maybe if I could set her up to go at a certain time for some reason, you could help with the...um, the part I probably couldn’t do, since they’d recognise me...”
I like breakfast. Kier grinned at Sparklepaw and kept grinning at him even as the other tom turned away and lowered his head to start painting; but it wasn't vicious, wasn't cruel - it was just... amused. Sparklepaw was endearing. Cute. Finally, still smiling to himself, he turned his head to watch him work.
Really, he did do a terrible job, but he didn't mind. "That's alright," he laughed quietly. When Sparklepaw cringed, Kier's smile twitched up in one corner and he lifted his paw away from him slightly, flexing his claws out to admire it like he was assessing whether the apprentice had a right to be embarrassed. It was terrible. But he just kept smiling, giving nothing away, and gave his paw back. "Very fine," he murmured, voice little more than a whisper as he leaned back against the stone, letting him work away unbothered in the dark. As he lay there, looking up at the black silhouettes of the pine trees against the night sky, another grin spread across his face as Sparklepaw began to speak. "Fine," he agreed around the grin, still gazing up at the tree tops - but not in the modern way we say 'fine', in the Regency way they said fine when you saw a fine piece of muslin and you said 'oh, that's very fine.' "Will you accompany her? To keep her occupied? Maybe if she's busy bullying you she won't see me leading her kit away." He turned his head against the stone to look at him, eyes bright with amusement. "Or will you be there with a little blanket to make sure I don't hurt it?"
He was certain that with time and opportunities to explore his immorality, Sparklepaw could be just as competent at kitnapping as Kier was. But for now, he'd let himself be the bad guy so Sparklepaw could believe he was still the good one. There was something sweet about that, getting his own paws dirty so the other tom could let himself think he was innocent for a little while longer. Something protective.
“Hmmm...” Sparklepaw considered his options, idly starting work on another one of Kier’s claws. “I could distract Cherrypaw so you can take the kit,” he mused, “and lead them away somewhere nice. Or grab them and put them in a sack...just in case they remember the way back and escape somehow. There’s some by the Scar from when Twolegs were there. But also maybe you should take them somewhere where you’d need to cross a river to get there,” he added, words spilling out of his mouth faster and faster, “or at least pass by some water or something, so you can wash off your scent and be harder to trace. And then maybe I could come see you to clue you in if you need to move somewhere else, or I’ll s-send you little messages! AndI’llwearabagovermyheadandcovermyscentupwithflowerssothekitdoesn’tknowwhoIam!” Sparklepaw’s chest was heaving by the time he was finished. Once the ideas had started, they hadn’t stopped. “...If, I mean, that’s okay with you and stuff. You probably have more experience with this sort of thing, heh.”
Kier grinned down at him as he painted his claw, enjoying Sparklepaw’s strange brand of debauched innocence. “In my experience, kits usually just follow you wherever you tell them to,” he purred quietly, reassuring and oddly gentle. “No sacks necessary. Might be fun, though.” That same, old grin spread back across his face. His voice quietened again. “All very good ideas. Out of curiosity,” he sounded almost gently flirtatious as he continued, “what sort of ‘little messages’ would you send me?”
"Well..." Sparklepaw's brow furrowed. "Maybe we could have a secret code! Like, I'll write a note saying, uhh, the narwhal bacons at midnight, and you'll know that means HECK SUNCLAN HAS FOUND YOU YOU GUYS HAVE TO MOVE. But no one else will know that's what it means, so if anyone finds it they won't know that you know!" Sparklepaw gave Kier a big toothy grin. He was possibly getting a little bit too excited at the prospect of kidnapping a child than he should've been
