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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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.
Auburnwolf scented the air, there was an intruder nearby or at least he felt there was. He had been hunting down a mouse, but when he heard a twig snap his blue gaze immediately snapped to the right of him. Slowly he moved towards the noise, but his gaze took one sweep of the surrounding area to check if there were any clan mates nearby who could assist him in checking out the noise. The tom was a Siamese, a past kittypet who had only been with DayClan a moon, but was already an aggressive warrior to any outsiders.
Mittens wasn't quite sure what brought her there. Something had just called her to this strange patch of forest... Something, that was shaped strangely like a mouse. Admittedly, hunting was not her strong suit, so it might've been luck that had that mouse landing quite literally into her mouth. Or Fate. Or Destiny. Or maybe Prophecy. Maybe it was a mouse prophecy. Who knows. All she knew was that now there was a cat in front of her, a mouse she most certainly didn't want in her mouth, and she blinked. "Meow," she meowed, voice muffled. "Meow?"
Auburnwolf turned as slow as a turtle to look at the she-cat. Was about as terrifying as a spider which he was horrendously afraid of. Still there was something about her. She was like the future, promised to no one. A gorgeous array of sun, too painful to look at, yet impossible to tear his eyes away until they were black and disintegrated. He held his breath, he knew every word, he spoke Woem, he had been a kittypet after all. But it had been a long time, far too long. His woem was broken up into bits that he knew with the language he acquired since coming to DayClan. Still it was like a lullaby he hadn't heard since he was a kitten.
"Mrrow the owl meow meow licking its mew mew and then put it in the meow," He said, his voice so fragile it sounded like it could break.
There was a moment of utter silence, where not even the leaves rustled in the trees nor the soft chatter of birdsong. A silence so wholly encompassing that it was as if the entire world stood still, holding its breath and waiting for that moment when Mittens titled her head, tantalizingly slow, eyes glancing up at him through a veil of lush lashes. She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something profound and awe-inspiring. But the moment was shattered with the thin whisper of wind—because apparently someone didn't bother to give Wind the memo. That, Hey, we're having a moment over here! Don't ruin it! Gosh. Some people just didn't understand what subtle meant.—and Mittens just stared at him from two-colored eyes, blinking slowly in a brash display of affection and love and overwhelming fondness. Or maybe it was just confusion. You know, looking back, it probably was just confusion because there's no way someone would blink that many times and mean something as world-bending as 'I love you.' Not that confusion couldn't be world-bending, just in a different way. More chaotic, and weird, and... Mittens paused, wondering where she was going with all this.
So instead, Mittens, with all the grace of a three-headed lion and the subtly of a trumpet-wielding bear, decided that replying to that gibberish was not worth it. To butcher a language as beautiful as Woem was sacrilege! "Meow," she said drily—because honestly, that accent and those looks? They would endear nobody—only to pause because oh no! She did just reply to him. Maybe if she pretended that never happened, he wouldn't respond.
His heart shattered like something that could be shattered, "Meow?" Auburnwolf asked desperately.
For the first time ever he felt... Loveless. Like happy meal toy forgotten on the side of a road, only he was a cat and had no idea what that even was so forgotten like a dusty old feather.
"Meow," Mittens replied stonily, rolling her eyes. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was some barbarian who thought they could speak Woem. And now he was doing the puppy-dog routine, but that wouldn't work on her! Nosiree! Mittens was strong and stoic and—
"... Mew," she assented, because darn her! How could she say no to those eyes! "Meow mew meow," she added quickly and warningly. "Mew."
He knew it, she couldn't get over him. She loved him like the ocean loved water. No wait... That would mean she loved herself because an ocean was the water... And... She loved him like a hornet loved to sting. Yes. He knew it. He was desired, he had no doubts. They were to be wedded by dawn. Because in every way possible nothing could go wrong.
Suddenly a rabid fox ran in, its muzzle foamed like bathtub bubbles and its eyes were as sickening as vomit. It growled at the two of them. MITTENS! She needed his protection!
"Meow!" He cried for her to run, run like she had never run before.
Mittens blinked at him, not in a lovingly way, or even a damsel-in-distress type of way. Nope. She blinked at him in the, 'Are you crazy? What are you talking about?' kind of way. Because as Mittens sat there, calm as a thunderstorm and clear as mud, she looked quite pointedly at the spot of thing air that apparently had terrified her beau so terribly. "Meow," she said, unimpressed, wondering if amybe it was the water that made him hallucinate. Honestly, were all the crazy ones attracted to her?
"I'LL SAVE YOU MITTENS!" Auburnwolf cried out, apparently having drunk too much of the starclan creek water he dove at the fox.
Or at least what he thought was the fox. In actuality the rock was about as real as Mittens knowing what a mitten was. He growled and hissed, his fang sinking into the hard weirdly rocky surface like a rock and not a fox, but he struck it dead. He was sure of it because it had no pulse and was as cold as a rock. A rock because it was one. He turned back to Mittens, his fangs dulled and aching, "Did I do good?" He asked weak as a baby gazelle who got slayed by a lion.
Mittens stared at them, then in askance at the sky, wishing for once she had that other weirdo with her. What was his name? Seen? Scene? Scenic? Though, on second thought, maybe not. She distinctly remembered a very strange adventure with him that led absolutely nowhere she wanted to go again.
"Meow," she told him placatingly, patting him on the back, because even if he was a drunk and a lunatic and someone she should stay far far away from, Mittens couldn't help but pity the poor guy. Or maybe she was just waiting for him to give her his life's savings so she could rob his clothes off his back. Not that he had clothes. Nor did she for that matter. "Meow mew mrrw?" she offered, 'cause she was nice that way. Or maybe she was asking about the weather. The two sounded very similar, and even native speaking Woem's had trouble distinguishing the true meaning.
He had a look about him, the kind that looked proud, proud like a lion who had just eaten a weaken gazelle and returned home to his family only to get scolded by his hot lioness wife and then get kicked out of his house and hook up with an even more smokin' hot lioness wife. It was probably why despite his coffee cream pelt there was still some handsomeness to his features.
"Mmm," Mittens considered, 'cause she was cruel that way and would never say a resounding yes without first pretending otherwise. She tilted her head, looked at him, and then said, "Meow." Which was about on the same level as, 'Here! You get a gold star to put on your report card for not getting an F in lunch!' Though admittedly, if someone squinted, blocked their ears and started humming the alphabet, her words could've been akin to a gushing compliment complete with promising him her unborn son.
What did that mean? She was about as cryptic as the loch ness monster. A beautiful mystery. But no one could fall in love with a mystery. A mystery never allowed itself to be known, "Meow. Meow meow," He said with new found courage, "MEOW. Meow meow. Meow. Meow. Mew mew meow meow. Mew."
"Mew," she told him, because no one said that anymore. Absolutely no one. If anyone said that to her in this day and age, she'd stare at them and say, 'What?' "Meow meow mew mrrrw meow meow meow meow," she wisely corrected him. Though it was more along the lines of, Hello, your doorbell doesn't work.
"Mmm. Meow meow meow," He said, because he followed the rules of wem while she followed the modern language of ssih which he didn't believe in. He was a faithful follower of women and none of that lazy language would dare enter their relationship, "Mew mew birds. mew mew mice?" He asked, wondering if she liked mice or birds better.
Why was he asking her if she'd rather have rotten cheese or dried turnips? "Meow," she told him quite properly, because who in their right mind would pick turnips over a good slice of cheese? "Meow meow meow?" she asked in return. Though if he said turnips, they'd have a bit of an issue on their hands.
What? She was just ignoring his question and talking about turnips. He couldn't quite make it out, but he was certain that she liked turnips. Nobody liked turnips, she was a liar or at least someone who was insane if she really liked turnips. Turnips were about as good as beats. Nobody like either of them and they were both equally neglected in the vegetable kingdom.
"I don't know if this is working out," Auburnwolf said suddenly placing a paw over his eyes, "I just... I just don't know..."
Mittens tilted her head, confused. Now he was making no sense whatsoever and was shading his eyes. What? Was the sun too bright for him or something? "Meow?" she asked, tentative and just a teensy tiny bit worried. Maybe he was hallucinating again? "Meow meow meow?" Did he want to investigate the water? Maybe that would fix all this nonsense that was happening.
"Meow?" Mittens asked, because it almost sounded like he said that the land was breaking. She blinked, then shook her head. Okay, yeah... there was definitely something in the water. Or the air. Or something. "Meow meow meow," she said, quoting a famous Woem philosopher. Which, translated to English, was something along the lines of, 'And if there was a fish, there would be a fish.' Admittedly, it didn't sound all that good in English, but in Woem it had the connotation of something mysterious and driven and world-altering, if a bit fishy. It was a very good quote, if Mittens had anything to say about it.
