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.
Have you ever laid in bed and thought to yourself ‘I hate my life’? Have you ever wondered what kind of cruel Fate has punished you to deal with the poor hand you’ve been dealt?
She could think in that light. Spend each morning despising her existence and the dark twist and turns that visit her, spend her day fixated on the negative electricity that zaps her at odd times. But from the moment she was born until now, she’s refused to give in. Sometimes it isn’t so easy. Sometimes she can’t get out of bed. But no matter what, she had to build her ladder. Positive rung by rung, she pulled herself regularly out of the pit.
Like today, sitting and gazing up at the skies as she allowed the birdsong to wash over her. Her heart felt heavy, but the more she focused on the warmth of the sun on her pelt, the cool feel of the earth, the melody on the breeze and the idle background noise of her kin, she found her darkness slowly melting away. She closed her eyes. It would never leave her, not for good. But she could lock it up in a cage, locked behind a door to be lost in the void of her unconscious.
It was hard to stay away from the darkness when it was in your waking life. When he watched you and gave those eyes that would chill you to the bone. When life would just never be “normal” for a cat like you who just couldn’t escape. Just when you thought you were free, his voice chimes into your thoughts and drug you back into the shadows that consumed you.
“Saga.” His voice struck a nerve, it was light and seemingly mocking. The way he spoke was as if he were meaning to say the heart chilling word that was often used when someone had grown angry with love and were about to harm them. ’Dear.’
“Come here.” Ramsey’s voice dropped in tone, his eyes narrowing to slits as he gave the command... His chin tilted down, and his eyes seemed to have to look slightly upwards, shadows casting along his features. The michevious look that settled into the smirk he wore was unmistakable. Saga would have seen it countless times before.
The white and grey patched she-cat looked over at her brother, resisting the urge to sigh heavily. Every time she felt herself finally reaching the light, his claws dragged her back. It was exhausting. Then again, that’s why he did it. To run her ragged until she begged, then to run her all the more. She stood and padded over, head held high.
“Ramsey.” Her voice was surprisingly mature despite her young age, ringing with grace, wisdom and authority, despite the fact it didn’t raise in a pitch louder than a murmur. “What do you need?”
He liked to watch that flicker of hope begin, the fire in her eyes lighting and slowly growing. To the point that she thought, just maybe, she was free now... The way it suddenly died, as if doused out simply by his voice. Ramsey’s voice, dooming her from the start.
He loved games.
“Sister...” Her movements, proud, sure.
Good. There was no room for weakness. Weakness was punishable.
“I want to play a game today.” Game. A word that was supposed to mean fun to other kits. It would not bring her joy. It was a cruel joke to call his torture a game.
Her orange eyes narrowed and she lowered her chin a bit to better level him with her gaze. “Oh really.” There was no question in her tone; it was as dry as could be. “And what game would that be.” Really all she wanted to do was have a nice, peaceful day. In times like these she wondered just why her mother had to have a kit that thrived in chaos.
Thrive? It was almost as if the thought mocked her, pecking at her skull like a woodpecker. Thrive. Thrive? No. To thrive was to simply be great, at maxed levels. Ramsey did not thrive. He survived on chaos. It was the very thing that gave him energy to breathe. To say that he could survive with out it, would be to thrive. He couldn’t survive without it.
“Educational.” A lesson. He taught her many lessons already, perhaps lessons that would define her personality through life, manipulate her into what he wanted. Show her how to survive the world. To do what it took to live, no matter what it was.
This time she really did sigh. His perspective on schooling and hers were very different. She knew his aim. She refused to be swept up in it. Just as it was his motive in life to groom her into the perfect minion, it was hers to resist him at every turn.
“Yeah, not interested. Ask Deviaun.” She turned and padded away, looking up at the skies again. This was when she wished she could head out into the territory. But she was grateful for BrookClan’s encampment; at least she wasn’t trapped in a circle. There were trails everywhere leading between the homes of the families in the Clan. She could wander them as long as she wanted without issue.
He didn’t like that. Being dismissed... It sent anger through him. His tail flicked as he let his mind amble on what to do next. He craved fear. The thought of someone feeling that complex emotion towards him was oddly pleasing. Ramsey knee he was nothing like his siblings, no, they didn’t much matter to him. They were pawns for him, little tools to get what he wanted.
He was still young. They were around four moons, already growing knowledge of the world around them. Smart kits, too smart.
“I don’t want to play with Deviaun.” He explained, his voice grating.
She had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but found herself sighing. There was no point. The more she fought, the worse it would be for her. She knew one day she wouldn’t have to put up with him anymore — the mountains called to her and she stared at them longingly — but today wasn’t that day. She’d just have to put up with it. Like every day...
Turning slowly to look at him, she frowned at him. “Fine. What’s the game.”
Saga resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Not now, not now... It seemed that what tortured her the most wasn’t the tom himself, but the effort to remain patient and not get herself in more trouble by her sharp tongue or attitude.
“Alright.” Turning, she continued to pad along the winding pathways, trotting lightly as if she wasn’t heading to her daily oppression.
“My limits?” She echoed, her unfazed expression flickering and breaking to reveal her confusion and unease. “What do you mean ‘my limits’?” She turned and looked at him once she’d schooled her emotions, gifting him a raised eyebrow. “Like a safe word?” She snorted in faux amusement.
Sometimes Ramsey didn’t even have a game in mind until she opened her mouth. She unknowingly sealed her own fate with each word she spoke. “Yes, you use the safe word when you can’t take it anymore.” He explained as he saw the lapse in her facade.
I know you’re afraid of me, Saga. You know that’s what I want too, so why fight it?
He stood and made his way slowly towards her. Upon reaching the feline he began to walk around her, tail trailing across her furs. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
She narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. It’ll be over soon, a voice whispered in her head and heart. She inhaled a deep, quiet breath, staring him down. His touch sent revolted shivers all over her body; the acid in her stomach rolled and threatened to rise but she swallowed it down.
There. A sort of enjoyment came to him as his sister trembled. Fear scent began to fill the air around them, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“The safe word... Brook.” His smile twisted into a smirk.
The young tom finally came to stop in front of her. He did not sit, however. Instead the tom dropped his head, neck stretching downwards. When she chimed in that she was ready, his movement was slow, almost as if time had decided that it would no longer follow rules.
Finally, he had a claw fastened between his sharp teeth. Ramsey began to pull, tugging the claw harder and harder with every second. Awaiting to hear her call for the safe word.
Tears pricked at her eyes and wobbled at the corners between her clenched eyelids, but she continued to undergo the torture. Pain seared through her, but heat — like blue fire — coursed through her veins quickly afterward and she inhaled a deep, unsteady breath that had her both smelling and tasting the metallic tinge of blood. She didn’t enjoy pain, but she knew she could handle it; she had to. Ramsey wasn’t a good sprout; the tree that would blossom from the bad seed of his heart would be dead and decomposing, but at least he wasn’t impaling others with his branches. If it was her, it wouldn’t be anyone else.
It wasn’t until the blood filled her mouth and she was forced to swallow before she jerked away, crimson splattering, the contents of her stomach heaving upon the ground. The acid in her stomach, already worked up, didn’t mix well with the plasma. Inhaling deep, shuddering breaths, she glared at him unhappily. “Brook. Brook, you foxdung.”
It would take a moment before she realized, before the true pain hit her.
His teeth had remained clamped along her claw, unwilling to let go. He did not lift his head from the bent position he was in, nor did he even look at Saga. He was smiling, his words coming out with a sharp raspy laugh. “You didn’t ask me if I was a liar!!” His laughter became cruel cackles, his shoulders shaking as he lifted his head to gaze at her now.
The safe word had been useless. The claw laid on the ground in front of him, his form shadowing over it.
