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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Anger flashed through her normally neutral gaze. Darkmeadow was probably the angriest she had ever been, and the anger was only amplified by the fact that she was in pain. Maybe if she'd kept her mouth shut, this wouldn't have been a problem, but she hadn't. The fight hadn't been too long, but long enough that she was hurt, not that she went to Cana or anything to get checked out. She was too prideful for that.
Darkmeadow let out another large sigh, before padding up to the deputy who sat in their meeting place. She dropped the flower that she'd picked earlier for her mate next to her, offering a greeting purr. "Sorry I'm late," she meowed, finding a comfortable spot next to her mate. This was harder than she expected it to be, because, well, she was still actively bleeding. "I got.... caught up in camp." That was an understatement, but she wasn't exactly sure that it was a good idea to tell Duskveil the details, no matter how pissed off she was about them.
Tardiness was not a common occurrence for Darkmeadow when it came to their meetings. If anything Duskveil would flex her power as deputy to make sure that the two of got a few moments to themselves. So when Duskveil arrived at their meeting spot and didn't see her mate it was puzzling to her. She had never not known for her mate to not be there before. She brushed it off as it was the first time it had ever happened. The deputy had found a comfortable place to sit as she watched the scenery. An unknown amount of time had passed and Duskveil swore the moon had moved from its last position. She heard paw steps approached from behind. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Darkmeadow. She noticed something was off about Darkmeadow's scent. It was almost metallic in nature. A flower was dropped near her paws and her orange eyes look at it. The flower was one of the rare few that opened its petals up at night. It was one of the rare beauties that could be found in Nightclan's territory. She turned her attention to her mate and she felt shocked. Though the moonlight offered very little light to see the blood on Darkmeadow's fur. The shock was the realization that the strange scent was blood.
"My dear why do I smell blood." Duskveil asked as she ran through all of the negative possibilities through her head. Had Darkmeadow been attacked on her way here? Had Nightclan been invaded by another Clan or a Fox?
She looked down and let out a very fake gasp. "Wait? I'm bleeding?" she meowed in fake astonishment. "I'm not sure how that happened. Maybe I tripped on a stick trying to get here?" She didn't want her mate to worry, yet she was completely aware that the chance that Duskveil bought her story was minimal.
She then shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Some things are better for you not to know, and I think this might be one of them," she then meowed, her tone much more serious. "I'm not hurt too bad, though. Nothing that won't heal in a few days."
"And did that stick attack you with the force of a fox?" She asked not buying the story one bit. She shifted closer to her mate to take a look at what she thought was a wound. She squinted her eyes into slits to try and get a better look, but the moon drifted behind a cloud. When Darkmeadow mentioned Duskveil not asking. The deputy felt the short fur prickle along her shoulders. "A few days! That looks like that might scar!?" The deputy protested gesturing to a wound she was looking at. Now Duskveil was no medicine cat and it was possible she was being over dramatic in the severity of Darkmeadow's wounds, but any wound on the other cats made the deputy's blood boil.
Darkmeadow's eyes widened slightly at the mention of a fox. If only Duskveil knew just how accurate her assumption was. She did fight a fox, but one of a different kind than Duskveil could have expected. "What can I say, the sticks out here are brutal." She tried to laugh, but it came out forced. She then winced slightly at her mate's declaration. She knew her mate was probably right; the cut across her muzzle probably would not heal right. "Will you still love me even when I'm ugly and scarred?" she meowed, her eyes lighting. Her anger had mostly subsided now that she was here, actually talking with Duskveil. She had a funny effect on her; no matter how dark the world seemed, Duskveil always knew how to make Darkmeadow feel alive and whole.
Duskveil's gaze had moved up from the wound and towards Darkmeadow's face. The deputy thought she noticed a small reaction at the mention of the word fox. But as quick as the possible reaction appeared it disappeared with Darkmeadow's attempted at a laugh. It left the deputy with many questions. "Don't hurt yourself"
She gently laid her tail across Darkmeadow's back. "Maybe I should go have a word with that stick." Her whiskered twitched at the thought. She was pretty sure this metaphorical stick was someone in Nightclan. Surely she didn't want to believe that a clanmate had harmed a single tuft off fur on her mate's head. The comment about Darkmeadow's being scarred brought Duskveil out of her head. "Of course I would love you even when your scarred." Her gaze softening and not displaying the raging fire it did moments previously.
"Sorry, sorry," she meowed, dipping her head slightly. "I forget that I'm not in the shape I was about twenty minutes ago," she meowed half in tease.
"I have a feeling if you do, things will get a little.... complicated," she admitted with a tilt of her head. "The stick's got some friends in high places, and I can't imagine that it wouldn't cause an entire scene. I probably deserved it, anyways, if we're being honest with each other." She had instigated it, afterall, hadn't she?
When Duskveil said the last part, Darkmeadow let out a soft purr. "Good. You're too good of a catch to lose because of a stick fight," she meowed, offering her mate's cheek an affectionate lick. "For what its worth, I'd still love you too."
"How complicated ?? Also define high place ?" Duskveil questioned wondering who the stick could possibly be friends with that was in higher places then her. "Also never say that you deserve wounds like these." Duskveil's voice rising slightly higher than normal. The fact that her mate believed that made her every so slightly angry. She was determined to get to the bottom of it. "Also who says you would lose me?"
"Well, best friends with the leader, so pretty high place. The only higher place than you," she admitted, before immediately regretting what she said. "Honestly, shouldn't have told you that. My big mouth..." She then shifted uncomfortably at her mate's scold. How could she explain that she actually started it? Well, kind of at least. She was the first cat to draw blood after Phantomfox threw himself at her. "No one, and that's what I love about you. Deep down, I know you'll always be there," she meowed, leaning her head into her mate's shoulder.
