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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Her eye twitch made one corner of his mouth pull up in a little grin, but it was short-lived. When Snowblister advanced on him, he wanted so desperately to hold his ground and turn to look at her with calm indifference - but he hadn't been expecting it, didn't know her intentions, and so instead he half rose and took an uncertain step back. A section of the bridge's wall crumbled away beneath his back paw, raining down into the thundering river and being swallowed into its violent maw. When it seemed she wasn't going to throw him off after it, he unfroze from the awkward half-crouch he'd been in and sat back down, meeting her slit pupils with wary defiance, defiance that said either they had to come to some sort of agreement or both of them were going to ruin themselves in fire trying to come out on top. His posture was stiff and uncomfortable; with her looming over him, he couldn't sit in any way that didn't cramp, the wall hard and cold and unforgiving beneath him. Everyone knows you can't fight for yourself, look at you. He narrowed his eyes but didn't reply; there was nothing he could have said that would have made it any less true. He was better than many would imagine him to be, quick and sure-footed, and he could kill if it was unexpected, but he was still no match for brute strength. That, whether he liked it or not, was where Snowblister came in.
"And you would be on my side?" he replied, and the amusement was gone from his voice, replaced by distrust. It almost sounded like insecurity. "After all you've said? You don't like me, Snowblister, and frankly I don't like you - but you would still back me?" He paused for a second, and then his eyes bored into her more brutally, like they were on the final stretch of this game and this was the time to decide, to separate truth from lies, to pick apart each other's intentions, each other's very souls. "Why should you be content to be only deputy? What's to stop you deposing me the first chance you get?"
As she went on, he listened in silence, still watching her with that same distrust; he was leaning back slightly, like he couldn't quite get her whole self into frame, couldn't quite make sense of it. The feeling was unknown, and he hated it. This is an us thing, not a you thing. Immediately, a wave of panicked nausea crashed over him, strong enough to make his breath stop. On impulse, he wanted to call the whole thing off and cut Snowblister out of it, scrub it all out, unbalance her and throw her into the roaring river right there and then because she knew too much to take home with her and all his wanting, all his plans, would come undone. This was his. This was his to control, to direct. His to own. He didn't listen to her; she listened to him. He couldn't share; he was bad at it. The only thing he thought he might be able to share was Eris, and even that hadn't been put to the test yet - he might very well kill the first person to look at her. Finally, heart still hammering, he forced himself to continue the intake of breath, letting it out a moment later a little shakily. The silence that fell over him now lasted longer than any had before. For a long time he just looked up at her, gaze narrowed and thoughts filing past the backs of his eyes in a procession of pros and cons; then, he looked away from her, out to the river, and stayed silent like that for longer still.
Then, finally, he turned his head back to look at her. "Fine," he told her quietly, and the word was ice. It felt like making a deal with the devil; for the first time, he understood what others must have felt when they made a deal with him. "This is an us thing." He turned away. "As you so eloquently put it," he muttered. After a few moments more of silence, he looked at her again. "Do you know blood oaths?" he asked in that same quiet voice, like raising it any louder would crack his forced, woven together calm and make him launch himself at her. He didn't trust her one bit. The only thing that would bind them together enough for him to sit back would be the guarantee that if one of them betrayed the other, the traitor would pay in blood, cut out by uncaring gods. Then they would be stitched together, come war, plague or uprising; his loss would be hers, and hers, his. Their fates would be bound and sealed, intertwined until they severed them with magic as dark as they sewed them with. Their futures would be an ugly, parallel beast of a thing, sick and monstrous. Their very souls, their pain, would be melted together.
Snowblister almost pushed further, just to see him shrink in on himself, just to see his insecurities shine through, but she didn't. She waited, listened. The last wall between them had been knocked down, and there was nothing but an almost uneasy sense of openness, like they could finally, truly see each other now, intentions and all. Her words had gotten to him, just as his had gotten to her. She would have to be careful, then, and while she wouldn't truly let him control her, she would have to place her steps precisely. But she didn't mind, not when he had to do the same thing. What's to stop you deposing me the first chance you get? Truthfully, there was nothing in her way, and if she was crowned deputy, she was sure Nightclan wouldn't mind her getting rid of their new leader before he even got his lives, considering his reputation.
"Nothing," her answer was nothing but honest, "but I don't want to. Just as you can't find someone like me, there's only so many of you. I can't do the things I want alone. This deal is business, it benefits us both." She wasn't fond of him in the slightest, he was an annoyance, a grievance, and yet he held potential, he held the power she wanted, and when it was given to her, she would need his cruel brain too. And, though she would never say it out loud, she didn't believe herself fit to be a true leader just yet.
She watched curiously as he reacted to her words, fell silent as if she'd struck a nerve. Despite the thundering of the water, she heard his shaky exhale, and it almost made her laugh. It was no surprise that he hadn't wanted to share, that if he had one taste of power he had to have the rest of it, Snowblister could relate. But she had already broken down his walls, and her demands would not go unmet.
This is an us thing. She smiled, a genuine, pleased stretch of teeth and crinkled eyes, "yes, yes, of course it is," she hummed, unwrapped her tail and let it hang over the edge. His next words were a shock — blood oath — she'd heard of them, of course, but she'd never seen one done, never did one. She looked thoughtful, and she didn't answer for a few long, silent minutes. Really, she hardly knew anything about them, but she answered, "yes."
Her eyes never left him, they hadn't for a while, "are you suggesting something?" Of course he was.
Kier watched her for a long moment, head tilted back, eyes locked in the cold, chirping darkness. Then, finally, he nodded. “Good.” There’s no one like me, he wanted to add, but for once he refrained. As she preened and gloated over their deal, Kier turned his head away to glare into the black, raging waters below, quietly seething as they tumbled and swirled, so hungry. But when she fell silent and stayed silent, he eventually looked back up at her, staring up at her in silence as he tried to pick her apart. She was still a mystery to him unlike anyone else had ever been, a bug that refused to be impaled up no matter how hard he stabbed at it again and again and again, but he was learning. He always learned. His pale grey eyes glinted in the wispy moonlight, wet and unblinking.
Are you suggesting something?
“Yes,” he replied immediately, all business and efficiency, not sparing her the courtesy of looking at her as he immediately swept around and leapt off the bridge. Now the play was again in his favour; the black and white pieces were gathering on both sides, captured by one another, and though he had given up winning for now, he was content to play the long con. Her star would rise and fall with his for a year, for two years; but eventually one would outgrow the other, throats would be left bare and unprotected, and one of them would damn their blood oath in a moment of frenzy and take whatever wrath the gods dished out, just so they could have the other’s life blood ruined in the soil. Just so they could win this cruel, silent game of equals. Neither was suited to being so perfectly matched, to having found someone whose heart ticked the same as their own, to admiration. And so they had to tear them from existence.
Maybe all it was was fear.
In another life, they could have been best friends, partners, confidantes. In this one, two broken pieces would kill each other for a chance at making themselves whole.
Two victims grown vicious, lashing out at the only kinship they’d ever known because they didn’t know how to equate connection with anything but terror.
And what a tragedy that is.
Without speaking or telling her where they were going, Kier led the way through the black forest. Eventually, the trees began to thin — until, finally, through the army of trunks, a clearing began to emerge. It was a huge, misty thing, turned blue by the moonlight and wide enough to be called a meadow. And there, in the centre, stood a ring of old, weathered stones. The starkness of them against the blue grass and the distant pines gave them an otherworldly look, things both unnaturally new in this wild world, and deeply, unspeakably ancient. The moonlight made the tops and edges glow, but the circle within was bathed in black shadow, so thick it was like the sea had been suspended between the stones. Like walking into it would mean leaving everything else behind.
Kier didn’t slow his pace as he left the cover of the trees and approached it, but it was more brazen defiance than true comfort with the stones. He wouldn’t let Snowblister see him afraid. He crossed the empty, silent field briskly, not looking around at the still, haunting beauty of the night. The world felt like it was watching from the treeline, like it was holding its breath. Above them, the clouds cleared and the moon, brilliant and white, shone through. Ordinarily, it all would’ve made him think of Eris and the moors; but all this Kier thought of was cold business.
When he reached the centre of the stones — and from within it, the shadows seemed to dissipate entirely, so that you almost couldn’t imagine how you could have thought it was so entirely black; the grass was just grass, blue and silver, and the shadows at the base of the stones were just shadows, and the moon, however cold and unblinking, was just the moon. And yet none of it was; all of it was icy, deadly magic — he stopped dead in the middle and swung around to face Snowblister. Frost crackled around them. The air was cold in his lungs. “Well?” he asked coldly, voice dangerously quiet. His eyes, never leaving hers, were a challenge. “If you know what to do, hold out your paw. Unless you don’t trust me.”
His lip almost twitched, but he stayed still. It was a two part ritual: one’s own blood let by the other oath-swearer and swallowed, to pair one soul with another; and death held in the other’s grasp but pardoned, to begin the devotion of protecting their life. Kier wondered if, with his teeth at Snowblister’s jugular and the oath only half-sworn, he would be able to hold back. It would be so easy… He wondered if the same hateful indecision would run through her mind as well. If it was running through it right now. A chance at glory forsaken, but the fearful rivalry they both awoke in one another so bloodily appeased. Down this path they were both on, it would end this way. It was just a matter of when the other took the chance. Of when the other outgrew their usefulness. Of when hatred outweighed the alliance. Of when he stabbed her in the back, or she stabbed him. But for now, they could set it aside for a crown. For now, they could hold the other’s life in their claws and let them up.
She listened silently and followed without a word, letting him lead her yet fixing him with an acute look, boring her eyes into the back of his head just to see if it would make his neck prickle, if it would unnerve him as it did her. On the way, she pictured every possible way the blood oath could go, went over every assumption until she picked the best one, slowly convincing herself it would happen. For the first time since she had met Kier, he was a step ahead. Snowblister wasn't partial to what it truly entailed, hadn't bothered to ask either, because to her it was a simple thing, something to do before afternoon tea and be done with, never thought of again, not until it mattered, and even then it could be tossed.
The cold wasn't a bother, and she walked like a tank, destroying every fern and frond in her path, snapping measly twigs without giving them a second glance. Some caught in her fur, things she would have to clean out later. Snowblister took up space, she took up power, unapologetic and unwavering, like it was deserved, owed to her. Part of her felt like it was, that the world should bend to her will because she knew best, but she knew it wouldn't, couldn't, not with the way it worked now. Perhaps the two of them could fix it. Or maybe it wasn't an if at all, they could make it reality.
She hung back, not hesitant, just watchful, as he approached the strange circle of stones. As he sensed the shadows, she saw them move, morph and twist until they took shapes of their own, eyes and teeth little dots of light in the trees just beyond, in the stretch of pine behind her, around the moonlit stones. They watched, they listened, and a nearly unheard sound emanated from them, like a soft, low hum, a somber song, a warning and a welcome all in one. She gave a final lasting glance before wandering out to meet Kier, taking a relaxed, almost bored expression as she watched him look around, intensifying it when he faced her. Well? His utter seriousness would have been unnerving to anyone else, but Snowblister fitted a slight, cheeky grin on her face, like nothing they were doing was all that serious, like it was some children's game. And wasn't that all they were? Children with too much power. One young yet grown into roles too big for him, the other grown yet young, stuck in her childhood guilt.
Unless you don’t trust me. She didn't hesitate, not a second of extra thought, and her paw extended, pad up, facing the sky. "We both know I don't." Neither did Kier trust her, and that was exactly how she wanted it. The tenseness, the watchful eyes of the shadows, the stars, the moon, it all made her fur bristle slightly, stand up uncomfortably. The chill would be blamed.
We both know I don’t. Kier’s unblinking eyes bore into her for a moment, but he didn’t reply. Instead, without a word, he raised his paw and lifted hers higher, stomach roiling with repulsion at the sensation of touching her. Her paw was large and solid against his, its warmth and thick, pale fur so different to his own pert, bony one. Gaze finally leaving hers, he flicked his eyes down to her paw pad and, with a little too much relish, plunged his teeth into the soft flesh, taking great pains to keep his tongue clear so he didn’t have that feeling to haunt him. The blood was instantaneous, bringing with it the memory of his father’s jugular quivering against the roof of his mouth. For a moment, standing there in the middle of the moonlit stone circle, hind legs quivering beneath the memories, he was lost in them. Finally, he forced himself to swallow, the feeling of the hot blood itself so familiar that it slipped down easily without any second thought or gagging, and let Snowblister go, slipping his teeth out of her paw. Spitting a mouthful of her blood onto the frozen grass, Kier wiped the back of his paw over his mouth. “Your blood tastes disgusting,” he told her snippily, like it was her fault.
It hadn’t been the sombre thing it was meant to be, vulnerable and sacred, but maybe the violence of Kier’s thoughts would bind them closer together, make their bond bloodier. Maybe the darkness of it wasn’t a bad thing. They would destroy each other; this was the only way this oath could have gone.
Without warning, Kier suddenly lashed his paws up and, catching Snowblister’s neck in his claws, forced her down onto the ground. “I can’t reach,” he hissed to her, shoulder fur prickling; it was the closest he’d get to acknowledging his stature. Wandering around to her side, feeling stiff and tense and like he’d forgotten how to walk under her judgemental gaze, he laid one paw on the side of her neck, pushing her slightly so he could better get to her throat and silently revelling in the power of being able to move her however he wanted without retribution, and then crouched down. “Don’t move, or I’ll rip your throat out,” he growled quietly, unable to understand why he felt so self-conscious and insecure with her watching him. Only one more part of the oath to perform on his part and then it was over. Shuffling slightly forward, he leaned down, tentatively opened his mouth, was suddenly grossed out by the length of her fur, pulled his head back and pulled a disgusted face, like this was the last thing he wanted to do — and then, finally, swallowed his repulsion and bit into her throat. With surprising care, Kier sank his teeth in slowly and delicately, feeling for her jugular. The second he felt the pulse of it at the tips of his canines, he stopped, holding her there with his fangs buried in her throat and one forgotten paw resting on her shoulder; it was meant to hold her still, but it felt almost more like comfort. He stayed like that for a long time, the cold air settling over them, the moon washing his pelt glowing silver and hers a pale blue. The icy breeze stirred the tops of the pine trees around the clearing, rising louder and louder until the stone circle was alive with wind. Then, finally, after counting out a minute in his head, Kier, just as carefully as he had sunk them in, withdrew his teeth. He didn’t make a fuss this time, just licked his lips a few times and sat up. He almost asked okay? but he held back. He didn’t care about her.
Now came the part he was most wary of. Sitting down in front of Snowblister, he repositioned himself a few times, clearly uneasy but trying to hide it. At last, after twitching it a few times like he was trying to build up the confidence to actually extend it, he raised his paw and held it out to her, looking like he was going to change his mind and snap it back the second she touched him. “Don’t kill me,” he growled, and it may as well have been a quiet, pleading request. There was a distrustful, dangerous warning in his blown eyes.
