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!
News & Updates
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.
"The more you struggle," Vespera whispered in her soft, breathy voice, "the harder it is for the both of us." That was putting it sweetly. She was a tiny little thing, scrawny and slender and with the charcoal she coated herself with to hide her bengal markings starting to rub off, and the loner she'd plied with sedatives was tall and bulky. And the drugs were starting to wear off. It was a little irritating. A little not nice. But it was fine. She never got annoyed. Well, really, she was burning with quiet rage most of the time, but she drowned it out and pushed it down and forgot about it till everything was nice and quiet and peaceful, just the way she liked it. It was fine. "It's fine," she whispered aloud, so untroubled and quiet and just that little, tiny bit strained around the edges, like her stitches were pulling and tugging at the seams. And it was. It was fine.
She'd only been in DayClan a day or two and she was only just starting to learn the layout of the borders. She never paid them much attention - she was a wisp, an artist, an airy, figmental thing that existed only at the edge of vision and consciousness, and she never stopped to think too much about the real, tangible lives of other cats. They were heavy, and she'd blow away on the faintest breeze. Such as it was, she scarcely realised that she'd wandered into SunClan territory, the knowledge barely fluttering at the back of her mind. She'd heard whispers of their leader going mad, but she was more worried about the coal rubbing off her fur and exposing her markings; it made her feel anxious and exposed and itchy, like the whole world would see, like there were eyes in all the trees and bushes and eyes in the sky and they were going to swoop in and haul her off for judgement. Her father had instilled that fear in her as a kit and it had never truly worn off. She was lesser-than, disgusting, a mistake in genetics, more demon than cat. But that was alright. It was fine.
Eve hummed quietly to herself as she dragged the tom through the shadows, voice sweet and quiet and calm, not bothered at all. Her newest riddle was starting to come together; that was always the loveliest feeling in the world. Where the eyes don't see and the ruins sink, the water nymphs whisper and the old tree creaks; that's where you'll find him, where the sun does blister and the silver ghost shrieks. As she heaved him on towards the waterlogged ruins by the river, she started to feel like she was being watched; it barely registered at first, just a little whisper at the back of her mind, like cool, quiet water. Then, the old anxiety trickled in. She stopped and raised her head, looking around silently.
