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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Post by strawberrycupid on Sept 4, 2019 23:19:58 GMT -5
Funk E'tan was, what many called, a cat. A cat with now seven more lives to spare, given to him by who knows. Eight lives to live, die and play with. He was also one who danced with the devil frequently, forever considering death to be his only love until recently. There was little in life that fascinated him as much as death. There were all sorts of different ideologies in the forests, and surprisingly, it seemed most had something to them. Sure, they were embellished sometimes, but so was everything. When he arrived in Primal Instinct, he didn't expect to find himself indoctrinated into anything, and he wasn't. But he listened to the stories that captured their attention, of otherworldly beings haunting the premises. Sometimes he'd hear things move, like windows open and glass crunching, but there was never anyone there. The biggest and baddest was one that lived in the crypt, where it drove the residents insane. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he wanted to find out. And he was nothing if not curious. He quietly stalked across the paths, only illuminated by the moon and stars above him. Glancing around, his eyes finally landed on the crooked open door to the crypt, to hell. So he was drawn to it.
Before Funk could enter the Crypt, Eshek appeared out of nowhere and skidded to a halt in front of him, blocking his path. “What are you doing?” she spat. “Down here? Looking like you’re actually, genuinely about to go in there?” She smacked him roughly on the forehead with her paw. “Are you out of your mind? I spent most of my life in there and look at me!” She bonked herself on the head and rolled her eyes around in their sockets, one of many neat little party tricks she had up her sleeves at all times.
“Torturers are trained to cope with it psychologically and, guess what, even that doesn’t work! You’re going home, c’mon, it’s past your bedtime.” She tried to shoulder him back down the path, nudging him along with her muzzle. She would never say it, but she cared about him, and she was more than a little extra-lovey-dovey-over-protective-blinded-by-emotions with her pregnancy, and she didn’t want to see him hurt by the… things in there.
Post by strawberrycupid on Sept 5, 2019 0:05:08 GMT -5
"I'm going to hunt ghosts. What does it look like?" Funk tilted his head, like he'd been asked what he was. AND THE ANSWER WAS A CAT, GET WITH THE TIMES. What cat doesn't see ghosts? He stopped being surprised at his wife's sudden appearance a long time ago. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was stalking him, "and you're not not convincing me. I wanna do that." He laughed. It was a great party trick, he always got a kick out of her doing it. And no, he wasn't taking his own mortality and mind seriously, there was science to be done.
"Awwww. Esh, You're such a party pooper." Funk whined into her fur, not moving as much as she would have liked. She really smelt nice occasionally. A part of him wished anyone else was here but her. Even Innocentia or Senescence who would chew him out, or Exsperavit who would say some nonsense like ever. but Eshek? Anyone else who was part of punishment, he'd just ask for a run through and go on his own, or make them join. Her tho? He hesitated, small alien pricks of pain stuck him at the thought.
"you know me, darlin'. i ain't giving up on this just 'cause you stop me once."
"Oh, you wanna do that? You wanna do that? Here, lemme see your eyes." She draped her foreleg across his shoulders so he couldn't get away and held her claws a hair away from his eye, miming a movement like she was rolling them around. Tapping one of her unsheathed claws against his nose, she let out a snort and pulled him closer, resting her cheek against the top of his head like he was a kit. "Huntin' ghosts - you're so cute, what are you, like, three days old? You don't hunt the ghosts, the ghosts hunt you." She punctuated the last word with another hard tap on his nose.
You know me, darlin’. She let out a sigh, the fragile humour fading from her expression. Letting him go, Eshek sat back and looked at him sadly, anxiety twinging in her chest. “Yeah, I do know you. That’s the problem. You never know when to stop.” She smiled, reaching out and nudging him more gently this time. A moment later, the smile faded; she was silent for a few heartbeats before finally adding, “you go, I go. Sweetheart.” She offered a thin, teasing smile, but her eyes were still dark and worried.
Post by strawberrycupid on Sept 5, 2019 17:32:50 GMT -5
He wasn't gonna move, even if Eshek hadn't slung her leg around him. Her unsheathed claw a hair away from his good eye, his stomach swam with adrenaline, a splash of excitement, and... trust? A complete and unknown sense of trust that man, he would have pressed his head against her claw and casually dare her to do it if he thought she would. Any normal movement he would have made with anyone else was not even in his mind when it came to Eshek. Of course, she pulled away and flicked him on the nose before pressing his face into her chest. But even with her light warnings, one thought crossed his mind. They are real?
She was right. He never knew when to stop. Stop working, stop manipulating, stop... anything. He always seemed to dive into things with his whole heart and soul, there was no inbetween for him. Never had been, probably never will be. He hated and loved, with no like. Infected and cured. Broke and repair. Nothing else, a true sense of chaos was found in the black and white, so he had to keep searching for it. Normally, he would have shrugged it off, and started to, but at her last words his shoulders dropped. you go, i go. sweetheart. His throat closed at the thought, a feeling of fear closed on him as his gaze hardened. But there was no uncertainty in her eyes, and she was gonna go whether he wanted her to or not. They may have more in common than he thought.
"hmmm. Hmmmm. Okay, okay, okay. Compromise with me? We stay on this ground floor, I poke around there and in exchange, you tell me all you know about the demon. Fair?" His smile was terse, but more light hearted than her's, but he didn't move from his spot.
Compromise? Did he know her? She opened her mouth and put on her best smug, haughty, holier-than-thou expeession, ready to tear him down a few notches, but the words wouldn’t come; she just stared at him with one claw raised like she was going to argue for a long moment before sighing and lowering her paw, snapping her mouth shut with a sharp sound.
“Fine,” she growled. Funk was going to sneak in however much she tried to stop him; better she go with him so she could at least try to keep him safe. She returned his smile, painfully fake at first; but, after a moment, it grew into a genuine grin, because she could never keep a straight face around him. She snorted and rolled her eyes, shoving him roughly. “C’mon, then, great genius.”
She bounded up the few steps, only slipping once when a little bit of stone crumbled under her backpaw, and peered into the crypt through the slightly ajar door. A wave of fear-flecked homesickness washed over her at the familiar gloom and the smells she’d grown up surrounded by. This was her first time going back since she’d left for Foreign Affairs, and she missed the simplicity of it. “Anybody hoooooome?” she called, creaking open the door with one paw and slipping in through the gap. “It’s ya girl, Eshek.”
It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Innocentia had clearly spruced it up a bit since she’d last seen it, but still she felt that old terror. She used to love this place so much, used to feel so at home in it, had so many good memories here. Now, she felt sick, and vulnerable, and overwhelmed, and panicked, and she just wanted to get out. “Great, okay, well, no one’s here, let’s go.” She turned on her heel and tried to shoulder back out past Funk, ducking her head so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
Post by strawberrycupid on Sept 10, 2019 15:11:12 GMT -5
Funk braced himself, eyes watching the claw she held in the air. A quip made it's way up to his tongue but he held it at her hesitation. Eshek had softened somewhat since leaving Punishment. He remembered her barging into the greenhouse not long after she went to Foreign Affairs. How prickly and irate she was with the decision, how he pushed her to try and get it back if she loved it so much. How they fought like... well, them. She never did, which was probably for the best. They hadn't changed much since then, just gotten more used to each other, he supposed. They still fought what felt like constantly, but it was softer. Like their words were the blunt edges of knives. Instead of cutting each other to make them bleed, it was more for the thrill of it now. But they both knew the other could flip that knife back whenever they wanted. He wasn't sure when she changed, but he knew when he did. After the night he met a blackbird in a murder of crows.
But when Eshek agreed, he couldn't help but look surprised. Pressing his nose to her forehead, he breathed out a soft thank you, that little quip gone from his mind. Making his way in past her, he quickly began scanning the walls he could barely see. The ground seemed to crack underneath him, but he paid it little mind. As his eyes adjusted, he could start to make out the cracks in the stone floor and the chambers down the hall. They didn't have any prisoners, so the dead silence was expected. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the world outside faded way, like how suddenly nothing existed outside the crypt. It only made him more excited, more curious.
Shoving his paw into a small mouse sized hole in the wall, he lowered himself to the floor unable to feel anything other than the cold stone below him. "Hey hot boys. Wanna see how the living part-" Feeling something trace along the top of his paw, he yanked it out and scanned it. The fur on it had been cleaved down to half it's length, small hairs now sticking off of it and scattered along the floor. Shaking it off, he leaned down again, only darkness staring back at him through the floor. He could feel his pulse quicken. "Hey Esh, you don't gotta come in, but tell me about the crypt demon.... Jackson, tell me about Jackson."
