Bat paced around the camp in restless anticipation, the tip of his feathered tail flicking to and fro in an endless rhythm with each ripple of his muscles. He was not nervous, not afraid, if anything his mannerisms bore an air of complete indifference- nonchalance. One thing he learned during his minimal time here was that word travelled quickly around camp, a rippling buzz that grew in its intensity as the sun slid across the sky- rogues had attacked the SkyClan cats. Ones brought from one of the newest additions no less, and whether or not such a foreboding series of events was deliberate or not remained to be seen. He was not concerned, at least not yet- he knew rogues, for he too bore the marks of one such past, a blight upon his tattered soul which could never be hidden, could never be mended, not truly.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a string of insufferable blubbering, his mahogany hued head swiveling so that those shifty, verdurous eyes which sat nestled deeply within their enervated sockets glinting with intrigue as they settled upon the very source of such a pathetic sound. Of course. Chickbloom was his name, if his memory served him well- notorious for his inability to hold his own, reduced to utter mess when faced with the cruel unrest of the world beyond his own. How sheltered must one be to become what he was? The very prospect of contemplating it was enough to drive Bat to insanity- but what he proposed after- oh, how it drove him to the very edge.
"Leave?" He echoed the word with a scoff, approaching the distraught creature with a slinking frame. He slowed as he neared him, circling around the other's sinking form, so close that his silken fur brushed just slightly against the others.
"Poor bloke what's lost 'is mind somewhere, innit?" A twisted smile spread across his face, the corners of his jaws twitching as his serrated teeth- one of which was missing- unveiled themselves to the world. It was almost wicked, not in the way a smile should be, something about it was devoid of the purity brought on by what is so commonly meant to signify joy.
"They'll find ya, ya know. No matter where ya run- Them mucks'll be a right plague so long as yer still standin.' Runnin' off now would prove to be quite daft...If ya don't feel safe 'ere, where ya got yer own bloody arsenal watchin' yer arse..." A shake of his head accompanied his pause, slow and drawn out, the scent of fear filling every inch of space between them, though it was definitely not his own.
"...Ya wont feel safe anywhere, mate." He pressed himself forward then, posture righting itself as his face moved closer towards Chickbloom's- almost like a snake striking an adversary.
Bat's delivery was, admittedly, hostile- self serving in the way his incentive was to provoke an even more intense reaction out of the clearly fraught tom before him- however the words which were spoken did hold some reasoning within it. They couldn't leave, it was a risk too great. The clan was strong because of its many numbers, their loyalty to one another and their community tied closely into one which was whole- it was bigger than them, and even bigger still than the rouges- selfish rogues, surrounded by others just like themselves who would only support the other so long as they reap the benefits of what another sows. To abandon such a thing, even just in theory, was imbecilic.
