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.
Dark paws where swallowed in the shadows of the setting sun, lean legs set a quick pace as he moved along Brookclans border. He had heard rumors, whispers from cats he long thought lost to him, an information network laid long past that awoke at the word of a dragon waking from slumber. Perseverance had lead them to bringing this information to Sasha's ears, and thus he found himself slipping from camp; off to find the dragon that was his sister. He had long since thought her lost to him, despite rumors of her passed around by those who knew of her. Of-course her kits were within Brookclan but they were kadet age now, almost ready to be promoted. Leaving a long stretch of time where he had nothing of her, where he had resigned himself to her loss once again.
Crossing over the border he thought of scenting the border but knew that he would not even recognize her scent even should he catch it. He would have to go off sight, knowing he would recognize his sisters tortiseshell pelt anywhere.
She hadn't expected him to come hunting her down. Not Sasha, the laziest cat of House Rainvieg, although there wasn't many left within the royal house to compare him to. According to her intel, the only ones left alive were her, Sasha, and Zakhar. She couldn't help but pity the rest of the house who met their ends after having their royal status stripped. She watched Sasha through the shadows, her green gaze boiling into his pelt as he searched for her. The former tsar wanted nothing more then to reveal herself to her brother. To bury her face into his pelt and sob into his shoulder. She had spent too long on her own. Her tortoiseshell fur unkempt and the bones poking through her tiny frame. She was no longer the strong leader their father planned for her to be. Her destiny had been shattered the minute Kerrigan walked in to pick off the stragglers their brother Rasputin had missed. She felt anger bubble in her chest at the thought of the traitor. There was rumors that he was still alive, hiding within the shadows of Nightclan, but Anastasia didn't believe it.... or rather she didn't want to believe it. Not after what he did to their family. Every death within House Rainvieg was on his paws.
She now realized that she was revealing herself through the foliage, almost like her legs were carrying her towards something she desperately wanted, much to her dismay. She paused in front of her brother. Her fur on end as she sank her claws into the soft ground under paw. She couldn't do this to him. Not after dumping her kits on him. Not when he had a family to go back to now. Something that she hadn't provided him with when everything went downhill. The awkward silence was broken with a simple "hello". The only word she could muster as her emotions overwhelmed her.
One paw hanging in the air, step aborted he turned and blinked towards her. Taking in the skinny frame, the unkempt fur, the defeated eyes. Heart aching he let out a breathy little "hi" in return as he turned to take a step towards her. Hesitant, afraid of spooking the sister that used to stand taller than all of them. A giant to them, larger than they could ever hope to be, or so it seemed at her prime. Now one would never know she was the one to reform Brookclan, to bring them to a new horizon. No, now she seemed like any other pitiful loner that could barley survive on their own. "Oh Anastasia." He choked as he closed the rest of the distance between them, small as he was he felt like he could swallow her whole now as gaunt as she was.
"Look what you've done to yourself." He choked out, voice wobbly as he fought for composure. Not wanting to make her self-conscious, not wanting her to feel anything but welcomed. She was a sight for sore eyes, after he had hunted down Rasputin to confront the tom on what had happened after Sasha left. He has so many questions but spoke none of them, simply basked in her presence. Pressing his forehead against hers and taking solace in the fact she was there.
"I must look like a wreck. Sorry for that." Her own voice cracked as her brother closed the distance between the two of them. Her body shivering as she attempted to hold back a sob that wanted nothing more then to bust it's way out. She wasn't about to give up her last shred of dignity. She wasn't about to cry in front of her brother. No, she was stronger then that, or so she thought. She buried her face into his shoulder. The tears silent as they fell, damping his black pelt, at least she wasn't sobbing. At least she wasn't crying out in anguish.
She kept herself there for a few minutes. The scent of her brother filling her nostrils, reminding her of a time that once was, when everything hadn't gone downhill. Eventually she composed herself and lifted her head to stare into his yellow gaze. Her own eyes still glossy and tinted red from the tears that fell. "Looks like it rained. Your pelt got all wet." She joked, a distorted chuckle filled with emotion escaping from her muzzle.
"I'll just have to find shelter then." He hummed as he glanced towards the perfectly clear sky and back down towards her, giving her a crooked grin of his own broken at the edges as it was. "You look like you need a good meal." He responded in response to her calling herself a wreak words delivered as kindly as he could make them. The tom took a step back, now that she had shed her tears and composed herself best she could. "Where have you been Anastasia?" He asked unable to hold the question back any longer. "I've been listening for word of you since I got the kits and never heard anything again."
She sniffled and took a paw to wipe the tears off her cheeks. The former tsar took a deep breathe and then shook her head in an attempt to compose herself. Her eyes gleaming with mischief as her brother spoke. "Oh, I'm on a diet. Can't you tell?" She realized how dark the joke was considering her condition. Her body skeleton-like with only a bit of meat hanging off the around. "and oh, you know, I've been around. Just walking around, dumping kits on my beloved brother." She teased with a slight chuckle.
"What a joy they were." He drawled with heavy overtones of sarcasm. "One of them had a mother complex, another was sickly, and one was just a large pain." Not that he had truthfully spent much time with them. Having gotten them into Brookclan but leaving them much to their own devices afterwards, sparing a glance at their progress only every once in awhile. If anyone had ever asked he used the simple excuse that kits needed room to grow and all that.
