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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If he had any sense of self-preservation, perhaps he wouldn't be here. But, the tom who had looked the devil in the eye and smiled knew no self-preservation. He had no interest in it, really. It made things so boring; the rules that governed normal behavior were so... stuffy. Rules in general were not something he was fond of; after all, they took away his fun. The tom didn't like it when he missed out on fun, especially for such stupid reasons as you're not supposed to be here. Perhaps it was this very fact that made his waltz through MoonClan territory so exhilerating for the tom. He was certainly not supposed to be here. He was certainly supposed to be anywhere but here. But, what could he say? Collecting herbs did get rather boring, and the only thing more dangerous than Pastelchaos when he was off doing whatever it is that he did was when Pastelchaos was bored. A bored Pastelchaos was the opposite of what the cats around him wanted. Boredom caused the tom to do... things that others disapproved of. It made him more likely to do something that would get him - or others - in trouble.
Today, that something to do was harass MoonClan. The rumor mill about the clan had gotten notably more intense the last moon, and if there was anyone who was going to get to the bottom of it, it was going to be Pastelchaos. Detective work was the opposite of boring, especially when it came to detective work about neighbors. You see, the only thing that Pastelchaos enjoyed more than, well, chaos, was hot gossip. Nothing would come between him and hot gossip, which meant there he was. The medicine cat apprentice let out a sigh as his gaze crisscrossed the territory. There had to be something interesting somewhere in the territory, right?
He had started checking the borders of the territory at first out of rightful concern, but now it was most certainly out of pure paranoia. Not like many cats had ever dared invade Moonclan in the very few moons since they had gone down into total isolationist, closed door policy; there hadn't been a lot of chances to try, and most likely not a lot of reasons to want to. With Sunclan driven from their home, with Nightclan in the grips of tyranny, and with Dayclan... Aging again? It was all to tragic, all so chaotic, Moonclan's odd silence and isolationism might have seemed, although suspicious, one of the least disruptive things currently taking place. But that would only last for so long, curious cats would eventually find a reason to stick their head into Moonclan's lands, and that was a thought Windsweptashes dreaded. The idea of some poor apprentice trying to be all high in mighty in the name of Selene, of addressing an outsider with the full might of the clan's new holy scriptures, and then being slaughtered with no remorse by that same intruder -- it sent a chill through his spine with the pure horror of it. The idea kept him awake at night, it terrified him. It was his newest in a string of obsessive anxieties that gnawed away at him and widdled his nerves thin, which was why now, whenever he got a chance, the commissioner took the opportunity to wander the clan's borders, lonesome and nervewrecked like a nervous dog guarding a house for his master.
It didn't help he himself was still terrified of what would happen if he stumbled upon an outsider. Selene's law on tresspassers was very clear: become a follower, or die. But he wasn't a murderer, and he was scared beyond words of fights and confrontations. Just moons ago he had avoided the Sunclan border like it would be the death of him, he had panicked at the very idea of possibly coming accross another Sunclan patrol dead set on raiding Moonclan camp, and at the thought of what he would do if he ever met them. Would he run back to camp? Would he try to fight? There was a churning in his stomach that feared another reaction, that he would have proven himself a coward; that he would have surrendered right then and there. Not out of fear of death, not out of fear of pain, but out of fear of conflict. The only thing that made him feel confident enough to trail the border now was the thought that their former enemy was gone, and the pity and paternal affection he felt for the apprentices back at camp. He'd rather risk himself a hundered time over than them.
He had been lost in thought as he had wandered the Dayclan border, so much so that when he caught a flicker of a calico pelt out of the corner of his eye deeper into the territory and a much stronger scent of Dayclan than he had possibly expected, he hadn't even taken pause to notice it. It was at least a full minute later when it all hit him, his heart seeming to stop a moment from pure horror as he twirled around on his paws and bolted back in the direction he had came from, quickly locating the other tom again with just a brief scanning of the territory.
"Hey! You!.... Ehm!... Excuse me!" At first his voice had come out as cold, confident, demanding, but within a second it had changed. His nerves quickly got to him, and he found himself giving a tone that sounded more like someone about to complain a bit too politely that someone had cut in front of them in a line than a second in command barking orders at an invader on their lands. What was worse was now that he had most certainly gotten their attention, they had 0 clue what to do. What if they ran? What if they turned to fight? He hoped, prayed whoever it was they would just turn tail back into their territory, and in some vain attempt to hopefully secure this outcome he tried to correct his posture, standing tall and wide and as intimidatingly as possible. Which, in all fairness, was pretty intimidating. He was large and hulking, and one could assume incredibly muscular under his thick coat. Of course, the illusion of some big scary commissioner had likely already been ruined, but this was his last chance to retain some show of power and his dignity, and he was at least going to try.
Upon hearing the other voice, Pastelchaos let out a purr of excitement. It hadn't taken him very long to find another cat, and he seemed a little bit impressed with himself. "Oh, hi, didn't see you there," he meowed as he padded over, offering the other cat a nod. It was probably amusing, looking at the two of them. The MoonClan deputy was trying to look intimidating, and the DayClan medicine cat apprentice was anything but. He had to crane his neck up to look the other in the eye, and the boyish grin that was pretty consistently plastered to his face made him look even less scary. "You must be a MoonClan cat, right? At least, you should be. Otherwise, well, we're probably both in trouble," he meowed with a laugh.
Pastelchaos should have responded... differently than he did, perhaps. Offered some sort of defense, prepared to field an attack, something. But, instead he just looked at the other cat, not a care in the world. The gravity of situations were often lost to him, although he probably still would have wandered onto the territory if he knew that it was a convert-or-die thing. His casualness had gotten himself in trouble more than once; apparently, some of the other's didn't take too kindly to his lacksidasical attitude towards most things. It amused him, seeing others get so worked up over little things.
"You seem a little stressed," he observed. "You got significantly less confident sounding as you continued. Don't be afraid of little old me, doll. I couldn't hurt a fly." He offered his most flirtatious smile - another thing that most cats found particularly frustrating about him - batting his eyelashes a few times. "I'm Pastelchaos, but I'll answer to anything you want." He offered a wink, before letting out another chuckle, incredibly curious as to how the other was going to react.
Pastelchaos' curiousity over what Windsweptashes would do next was very apt, even Windsweptashes himself didn't know how he was going to react. What was he supposed to say? Okay, well, he knew what he was supposed to say, but the very thought of saying it made him panic so much that he couldn't even speak to say it. For what was probably a bit too long, Windsweptashes stood in awkward silence, subconciously losing his bigger, tougher pose as he did what he naturally felt like doing, shrinking into himself a bit, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. He grappled with his thoughts a moment longer, eventually deciding he had to say something at least, and it had to be something serious, something intimidating, something that would make the cat in front of him second guess being here.
But that chance had pretty much passed. So they said the next best thing they could find it in themselves to muster. "I don't care who you are, you're not suppose to be here! You really have to go." He said, and once more his voice faltered at gathering anything that could even be considered even close to confident and commanding. It sounded more like a sheepish plea than an order, and truth be told, he did just want to plead with him to leave. If he just would run he would have the excuse of "Woops, well, I couldn't catch him, and what was I going to do? Invade Dayclan? I guess we'll just have to give them a very serious diplomatic talking to and just wash our paws off of this situation."
He ignored the wink, the flirtatious smile, he wouldn't have known how to react to it even if it had been his own clan-mate, nevertheless with it being from an intruder. Actually, in all fairness, he wouldn't have known how to react to it even if it had been a general, normal, fairly simple social intercation. The poor tom wasn't social to begin with, and for the last few months his only adult interaction for the most part had been his uncle, who also just so happened to be his superior and leader. Everyone else had been apprentices and kit aged cats of whom he was trying to reassure (with varying degrees of success) that everything was okay and would be fine.
So now he was stuck here, tacitly pleading with the calico tom in front of him who had no clue what horrible situation he'd just stumbled into, to just leave. To just get out. This was a mercy, this was a kindness. But he wouldn't, would he? Windsweptashes already knew he wouldn't, it was just his luck he wouldn't. He wished right now he was an elemental, all he wanted to do right now was just sink into the ground and disapear.
If the other tom's job was to get him off of the territory, he was doing an absolutely terrible job at doing it. He hadn't even hissed at him yet, though even if he had, Pastelchaos probably would have found it endearing. He liked when he got other cats good and riled up, and in DayClan's territory, he had to be on his best behavior. But out here, away from the prying eyes of his assigned-stalker-turned-mentor and best-friend-turned-hater, he could have fun. It had been so long since he had really had fun.
"You see, I could do that, but I just recently learned about this super cool perk of my job. There really aren't many perks about being demoted to medicine cat apprentice at my age," he offered a bashful smile, although there was no part of him that was truly bashful about how he had ended up in the place he had, "but this is one of 'um. Right to safe passage, something something, Warrior Code. It's basically a war crime to tell me to leave," he meowed, this time his bashful smile morphing into a charming smile. "Plus, I'm not hurtin anybody, doll, am I? Little ol' me could barely hurt a fly. Nothin' to worry about, doll, scout's honor." As if to prove that he was of no danger, the tom sat down, rolling to his back feet and putting his hands in the air like he was being arrested. "See, doll? Ain't nothin to trouble your pretty little mind." He dropped back to all fours, his tail wrapping neatly around his paws. There was a reason that Peachstar wanted almost nothing to do with him; truthfully, Pastelchaos was annoying as all hell, and proud of it, too.
"So, since I'm no trouble, you might as well tell me your name, handsome. Eye candy like you's gotta have something cool, Smolderingeyes, maybe?" The tom let out a thrilled purr, flicking his tail back and forth. It was hard to tell if he was being deliberately antagonistic or not. On one hand, Pastelchaos was flamboyantly gay, and Peachstar, the man after his own heart, was icing him out, and Windsweptashes was conventionally attractive. On the other, he looked like he was having a little too much fun for it to be completely serious.
Windsweptashes was dumbfounded, bewildered, horrified, really. At this point maybe even less so about the fact that there was a cat in their territory, and more so about the fact he was incessently trying to be social, and thus forcing him to have a social interaction beyond shooing him out. It was another long, awkward period of silence before Windsweptashes found his voice, his words coming out in a stammer that was desperately grasping at some illusion of being more confident than he really was. "N-no, you don't understand. We don't follow the warrior code, we follow Selene's. You don't have any protection here."
In truth, Windsweptashes only vaguely knew what the tom was referencing. Warrior codes, Medicine cats — as a cat raised in Moonclan their entire life he'd only heard any of those in passing, and only in vague terms with bitter contempt. He could recall, if he really tried, a lesson going over it during Shadow hunter training — a lesson that had basically widdled down to a hardened teacher pacing up and down the front of his class, sneering and rolling his eyes at terms like "clan leader" and giving sarcastic quips about Starclan which had brought the entire set of his training group into dry amusement and started an entire lesson period worth of ragging on the code as if there was a prize for who would demean it more. Needless to say, not a lot of quality info had been given that day, and so while Windsweptashes had some vague inclination of what Pastelchaos might have been referring to, he was really just as inclined to believe what he was saying was nonsense as it was true.
"So, since I'm no trouble, you might as well tell me your name, handsome. Eye candy like you's gotta have something cool, Smolderingeyes, maybe?" If Windsweptashes had been reeling before that question was dropped, he had probably emotionally tumbled at this point. It was a fake flirt — he was absolutely convinced of it, because there was no way in the world anyone would actually flirt with him, and it was worse because it was teasing and humiliating, and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and never show his face to the world again. Which was horrible, because it wasn't even really an insult, and he was the literal second-in-command of this patch of land, and the fact that he felt so embaressed and rattled by one little fake pass was humiliating all in and of itself. He pulled back a bit, as if the words themselves had been a cut at him, and for a long time he was silent, just trying to find something to say; or rather wishing he didn't have to say anything at all. Technically, he didn't, technically he didn't even owe the tom a response; but the long silence was starting to feel as awkward and uncomfortable as the question, and so finally, meekly, just above a whisper he managed out, "I-... Windsweptashes. But that doesn't..." His words trailed off, and he felt a second wave of panic hit him, an odd urgency to do something, anything to assert some sort of control over the situation and prove he wasn't absolutely, utterly useless. If he was a human he would have been pulling at his hair right now in an anxious twitch, as it was he was subconciously shuffling his paws as if somehow his own restlessness would translate into action.
"That doesn't matter!" He finally managed out, his voice more like a cry than he intended it to be, and he had to pause a moment to compose himself before he spoke again, because if he didn't he knew his voice would come out more or less the same. "You really, really can't be here. Under penalty of death, if you don't plan on joining Moonclan you have to leave." That, at least, came out a little more confident, but given everything prior if was hard to imagine it would matter much now.
