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 Honeystorm on Nov 30, 2018 19:37:27 GMT -5
The disheveled Dvorayne wandered the territory aimlessly, her ears twitching at nonexistent sounds as she walked, skeletal gray and garish ginger fur catching the weak sunlight in bright flashes. Ossuraryshriek didn't exactly have a destination in mind, nor a goal, she simply listened to the voices, telling her to go this way or that, warning her of real or imagined dangers, or even just griping at her. By now, she knew they weren't normal, but she kept it to herself. She saw how they'd treated Springlockedgrave, and she really didn't want the stigma of being crazy to follow her as it did her mother. Of course, her appearance and attitude didn't exactly inspire confidence, but being avoided or ignored was better than rumors and snide comments, in her opinion.
The body of one of the she-cat's more worn out relatives seemed to appear out of no where. Toy had a way of doing that, of seemingly materializing out of nothing. It was a skill she had learned in her days in the gang; stick to the shadows and always play by the element of surprise. She didn't need the skill as much anymore, as none of the cats of this group were actively trying to kill her, but you know, old habits have a tendency of dying hard, and this was one of hers.
"Have ya never even eaten a single piece of prey in this hovel?" she asked her niece, her single eye narrowed. "You look like they're starvin' ya." The words came out of her mouth in an accent right off of the streets of Brooklyn. "Ya look like I could just barely touch ya and break ya bones."
Post by Honeystorm on Jan 19, 2019 12:53:27 GMT -5
For a moment, Ossuaryshriek wondered if Toy's voice was real, or if it was in her head. When she blinked, however, and the she-cat was still there, looking tangible and still speaking, the she-cat recognized that this was... probably a real person. One of her relatives at that. She glanced at her pelt, the disheveled mess clinging to a frame that was perhaps thinner than it should be, and helped none by the fact the she-cat appeared almost... tired. "I'm fine, really." She sighed, wanting to be left alone more than anything.
