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 Jun 14, 2020 17:55:50 GMT -5
yes, i actually made it. Honeystorm and Jadie This was either the longest or shortest day in Pitter Patter's short life. The lab was oddly clean, silence like a haze hanging over her. Not allowed past the curtain, she refused to move. Lights flickered in the waiting room, and the she-kit either spent her time sleeping or batting at the baubles lying around. And the whole time, there was hardly an update from the operating room. Pitter Patter was staring out the window, daydreaming about nothing yet everything when the curtain was finally pulled back.
The dream immediately shattered as Funk stepped out and Pitter spun around before running up to her father. But he didn't quite look right. His auburn fur was stained heavily with blood, more so than what could even be from Mizzle's little body. The black rosettes looked more like dark pockets to other dimensions, completely absent of light and appearing more like bullet wounds riddling his body. But Funk held himself the same way he always did, pride and mild discontent as he looked down at Pitter. No emotion shone in his eyes, and they stood there till Pitter finally broke the silence.
"How is she, Dad?" The small calico asked, noting how he didn't even flinch. Licking at some blood on the side of his mouth, Funk let out a sigh.
"She's a goner." It was cold, too cold. Chilling Pitter to the bone, her eyes began to tear up before she looked away.
"No! That can't be. Is there really nothing you can do?" PitPat asked desperately, her little knees knocking against each other. There was no way Mizzle could die, there had to be some way. A laugh echoed through the small one, one far deeper than she ever heard. But when she looked up at Funk, his expression was still blank. Still... nothing. How could there be...?
Creek had been with Funk during the surgery. His brown-gray paws were saturated with blood but otherwise he was mostly clean, just some speckling here and there. He'd done his best to stay out of his father's way and just observe, hand him tools, adjust the lighting, etc. In exchange for his meager assistance, Creek got to watch and learn. He'd done this plenty of times with other cats but never his kin and even he recognized that it was strange that he felt numb to it all. He did feel a little pressure in his chest but that was about it. Maybe it was because he'd watch his sister suffer her entire life. He'd come to terms with the fact that she probably wasn't going to survive into her trainee years several moons ago. He'd made his peace... but one look at PitPat made it clear that she had not.
At the mention of one last option, Creek perked his ears. His logical mind truly did not believe it. He didn't have a lot of practical training but the scent of death already haunted Mizzle's lusterless coat. It didn't take a healer to recognize that that kit's hours, no, minutes, were numbered. The idea that there really was something more to be done... the curiosity made him tremble. That's right, it was definitely curiosity, "Well, if there's anything that can be done, we've got to do it, right PitPat? Are there any materials you'd like me to fetch from Blue's stores?"
(just send Creek to fetch something when Funk tells PitPat that it'll cost her her life <3 you can powerplay him if it works best)
Post by strawberrycupid on Jun 18, 2020 19:43:32 GMT -5
Funk had let Creek stay in for the surgery. He was always poking around, trying to watch the Nemesis work anyway. It definitely should have concerned him, but Funk mostly appreciated having someone around who was happy to just hand him tools. And ask a lot of questions. Even if Creek sometimes grated on his nerves, it made him glad to see how devoted he was. Not like Blue, who really only had the position cause she was one that was left. It was probably clear to most of them that Creek would be taking over the position. Somehow bringing them all back to that whole hereditary Shaman thing. Funny how that works.
"Of course, whatever we can." PitPat agreed. Even if it was clear Mizzle didn't have much chance left, it was better than just giving up. Not when she finally seemed to be recovering.
"Actually yes, would you mind grabbing me some white tansy, bristly groundberries and... oh yeah, horse cane?" Funk asked with a tilt of his head.
"Of course." Pitter started, but as she turned around she felt Funk's paw on her shoulder.
"I need to speak to you for a bit before the procedure, Creek, can you get that stuff on your own?" Pitter found it strange, too strange. The way Funk's words played out, it almost didn't feel right.
"Of course," Creek echoed Pitter Patter as he took in his father's order. He then bowed his head to both cats and exited the den, odd, he wasn't usually one for formalities and it was hard to even guess where he picked it up. Even he recognized this... maybe Mizzle's impending demise was bothering him more than he had expected. He shook his head. Stop thinking about it.
It didn't take him long to reach Blue's stores, although he had gone a roundabout way to pull fresh white tansy, since he knew Miracle had some in her garden. He wished the berries were fresher but otherwise all was in order. He wrapped them in a small bundle and wondered where Blue was if she wasn't in her nest. Did she even know about the surgery? The two of them hardly even talked these days, now that her kits were half-grown she had gone back to her wandering ways and spent less and less time in the heart of League territory. It was not a good habit for a healer, but he didn't judge her, as smart as she was she never had the passion for her craft.
Herbs bundle in his jaws, Creek headed back to the surgical room.
Post by strawberrycupid on Jun 28, 2020 19:23:48 GMT -5
It was easier than he thought it would. And as Creek left, no other sound accompanied his pawsteps. Funk could tell, Pitter was too scared to ask. So, he would have to do the heavy lifting. Once the rustling sound was gone, he started. "You said anything, right?"
And Pitter looked down at her paws, Funk's gaze boring into the back of her neck before she lifted her head to answer. "Yes." It was a brave answer, riddled in uncertainty. Because there was never any telling what he had planned. And how far he would go to get what he wanted. When it was introduced, he had played with smaller sacrifices. Two equal trades, in life and death. If he wanted something alive, he traded something alive and the same for dead. It got him some good experimentation fodder, but he wanted to push it further. To bridge that gap.
"You know about the book, right?" Pitter's eyes widened at the question. Flashes of fear in them. It was all too new. Only a select few had been able to read it, and Funk guarded it jealously.
"I had a feeling." It almost sounded like a sigh, like some sort of relief. Maybe there was really something to it? If it could really bring back Mizzle. "Yes, I know, though I don't know much."
"Then I'll tell you simply. It's an equivalent exchange. You give up something of similar value for what you want." If Funk was being honest, he didn't really care what happened to Mizzle. The hunt for a cure had become boring, and the constant strife between himself and Blue agonizing. It almost made him sad.
"Okay. What does that mean?" Pitter's head tilted, and he felt his pulse pick up. The agony, the despair that was about to be felt. It made him shiver in anticipation.
"So, what are you willing to give up for Mizzle's life?" Funk smiled when he asked, one of his front claws running through a spot of blood on his coat. "And you have to be honest. I'll know."
"I... I don't even know what to offer." She sounded crushed like she had no clue. It was fine, this is where his hand could be played. Kind of place where Dad could shine, and give advice.
"What about your own life?" Funk asked, face like a stone as he tried not to crack. Not to get too excited. The question hung in the air as she stared at him, dumbfounded. And it took those moments to realize he wasn't joking.
"My own... life?" Tiny claws stretched out, Pitter absorbed in her own movement. Completely unaware of the shadows shifting along her father's skin.
"What's more equal than a life for a life? Asking for someone to come back to life, can only be done if you're willing to give your's up." His words came out too fast, like a dam that had broken. As Pitter looked up at him, something in her felt, maybe knew, she had no choice. She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut when Funk spoke up again. "Now, what'll it be?"
~~
Creek came back as Funk finished the preparations. He read the book over multiple times, drew the symbols exactly as pictures, Mizzle now placed in the center of the circle. Breathing slowly, they had little time. When he heard Creek walk through the door, the first thing he probably heard was the sound of the heavy book being slammed shut. "Ah, perfect. Good work Creek. Grind the berries down to a pulp for me, would you?" Maybe if he paid attention, Creek might have seen Funk barely look at the herbs he brought. Or the wild glare in his eye. But Funk gave him little time to reply as he quickly took the horse cane.
Post by Honeystorm on Jun 28, 2020 19:41:29 GMT -5
Mizzle had hardly stirred throughout it all thus far. Though at Creek's arrival, the she-cat's tiny eyes crept open a fraction. Miracle had been doing her best, day in and day out, to try and help the she-cat despite it being a lost cause. Which is what led to this moment, the she-cat having no clue what her sister intended to do, and if she had, she might have protested, but she was far too weak to do anything than offer an almost inaudible murmur that might have been a name, or maybe it was nothing as her eyes drifted back closed once more.
Creek sensed something was wrong the moment he set foot into the surgical chambers. Later he would learn it was miasma, bad air, caused by Mizzle's illness and Funk's nefarious ritual, something that went beyond scientific explanation and into the realms of the occult. He couldn't help but shiver but his face was calm as always, although he was glad to be given a task to keep his paws busy. The young bengal tom absentmindedly beat the berries into a pulp as directed He felt his gaze drift toward the book Funk E'tan had brought with him. The ancient relic was far beyond his understanding, he could not read nor could he find any reason to dabble in the supernatural when they had science, yet he couldn't deny the tingling in his paws when he thought of opening the cover.
He padded over to Mizzle's side and set his pulp near her paws. His sister was one of the reasons he took interest in medicine yet seeing her on death's door did not stir his heart. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that she would not survive into apprentice-hood. It was no one's fault; in fact, it was a miracle that she had lived this long, she had received excellent care all her short life. Still, he did deeply pity her, and would undoubtedly miss her when she was gone, "Mizzle." He meowed gently, putting his paw against hers, although he said nothing else. He would not give her false hope. He knew magic existed in this world but did not put much faith in it. The Gods had better things to do then worry about the life of a measly kit. He knew that all too well when told stories of his many deceased half-siblings.
Creek looked back to Funk and Pitter Patter. He hadn't expected his other sister to be present however he was sort of happy that she was. While his heart was closed off, Pitter Patter's was an open book. As hard as it was, Mizzle's final moments would be incomplete without her twin's presence. All that was missing was Blue but then again she always was, "Is there anything else to be done, father?" Doubt was in his voice, he tried to mask it but it was obvious. Bells and whistles, that's all this was to him, but a part of Creek recognized that Funk would never attempt an experiment if he didn't believe it had a chance, "The pulp is read."
Post by strawberrycupid on Jul 6, 2020 15:23:32 GMT -5
Pitter Patter didn't say anything, unable to even look at Creek. Her gaze flicked between the floor and the exit. Though every time it lifted, Funk seemed to be staring right back at her. With a gaze that was as much of a threat as it was a question. It only made her more nervous, anchored her paws to the ground more.
Meanwhile Funk had gotten the final preparations ready. The horse cane was split and scattered in a circle around Mizzle. Though it was too big, the perfect amount of space for a second cat to curl up there. The petals of the white tansy were plucked and split in half before joining the horsecane. He counted it out exactly, every fiber accounted for. The Nemesis gently pushed one of the tansy seeds into Mizzle's mouth, forcing her to chew and swallow it before walking over to Pitter, who only stared at him blankly as she swallowed the second seed.
"Nope, that'll do." Funk purred, turning away from Pitter without a word as he collected the pulp. There was no escape, but Pitter knew she wouldn't dare. And so did Funk. Because there was hope, because this was for Mizzle. She had always been a bit too self sacrificial. "Get into position when you're ready. Though time is of the essence." Funk spoke so plainly, like it was just to the wall. Like no one else was there and the words meant nothing to him. After a moment, Pitter stood up and walked over to the circle before laying down with her back to Mizzle's. Head near her rump, like a backwards yin-yang. Just like in the book.
Funk sat on the outside of the circle, red pulp like flesh in front of him. "Next we need to take some of the pulp and rub it along both of their brows. Do you want to do that or shall I?" There was no way he was getting rid of Creek. So he may as well show him what was potentially in store for him.
Creek's whiskers twitched. Why was Pitter Patter involved? In fact, she was consuming all the same herbs that Mizzle was, which seemed pointless given her healthy constitution. His eyes wandered back to the book. Any suspicions from before were all but confirmed now; this was not medicine.
Do you want to do that or shall I?
The bengal tom's gaze met his father's eyes and held them. Of course he had questions, who wouldn't? But he broke the eye contact just when it was starting to feel too long. He knew that look in Funk's eyes. This was going to happen whether he was here or not. And Creek would nor let his own trepidations get in the way of observing was could potentially be the birth of a new science.
He took half the pulp and gently smeared it across Mizzle's forehead.
