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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11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
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Faminekit let out a soft rumble as another bat flew out of the cave. He was quite certain he wasn't supposed to be in this particular cave, but the little tom kit had been drawn to the sound of the strange chittering of his people. They were just so graceful, and none of the other cats paid any attention to them! Someone had to. As it flew away, he let out a sigh, a single tear welling in his eye as he began singing a haunting aria:
"Bats are flying mammals, this you might know. They sleep together while they hang from their toes. There’s big ones, small ones, and in between. Large as a fox, small as a bumblebee. ~"
“Ah,” Kier said, having watched the child’s unnerving worship of the bat in silence, “so children are just similarly deranged everywhere. Wonderful to note. Carry on.” He was always being accused of looking like a bat, and with this kit’s apparent fixation on them he wasn’t taking any chances of being turned into a cult deity. That was for later — next year’s plans.
He also wasn’t going to show that he’d teared up at the aria; luckily it was dark enough that he could wipe away the brimming tears unnoticed. Blasted appreciation for music and the arts.
Faminekit's head whipped in the direction of Kier, his neck cracking twice at the motion: who dare interrupt his aria? He was about to enter his second verse! Realizing that it was the deputy, the tom's whiskers twitched slightly. Great, now he'd probably be in trouble. His eyes immediately turned to the ground, nervousness replacing the awe that had been in his gaze in the moments before.
"I'm not derranged, the bats deserve more than this clan gives them," he muttered, his tail low. "They would be kinder if they got the credit they deserve. I am simply trying to do the work of the bats."
Kier raised his brows, but the action was harmless, dryly indulgent. He settled down on his stomach, tucking his forepaws in towards each other. “Oh?” he replied; he didn’t believe in babying kits, knew they were whole individuals who could talk for and justify themselves. “And what do they deserve? Do the bats like your singing?” Though there was amusement in his voice, the question wasn’t cruel; really, it was as gentle as Kier could be beyond the tenderness hidden away for his mate.
Faminekit looked a little bit confused. Normally, by this point in the conversation, someone had already called him crazy, or at least looked at him like he had nine eyes and three tails. Maybe it was because the deputy wasn't from NightClan. You didn't need nine eyes to know that; the scent of the League still followed him, even if now it was slightly hidden by the scent of pine.
"Well... uh...." he started, nervously looking back to the ground. "They deserve our upmost respect. The bats help us so much. Did you know that they could eat up to 3,000 bugs a night? That's a lot of bugs that we don't have to deal with, so that's a great service they provide for us with no recognition." His voice was becoming frantically reverent. Even just talking about them was enough to make his little paws quiver. "The bats like my singing," he then mumbled. "I can tell because when I sing they squeak back to me, and it's like we are having a conversation!"
“Do they really?” Kier didn’t sound patronising; he genuinely didn’t know that fact, and he liked new little pieces of trivia, even if the number of bugs a bat eats in a night was never likely to come up again — it was still a fun, innocent feeling of personal growth and betterment, to learn. He sounded enthusiastically impressed. “I had no idea. Maybe they do deserve more recognition — you’ve convinced me. And can you understand them when they squeak? I imagine that with enough time you’ll be able to put together a rough idea.”
He was humouring the kit, slightly, but he also did believe it; with his childhood spent around cats who came and went from way stations, many of them holding strange pagan beliefs, he had a broader belief in the impossible, in such things as communications between cats and other creatures, than many a Clan cat did.
He looked up for the first time, his eyes shimmering. Were those... were those tears? Was he ... crying because someone else was admitting the glory of the bats? Maybe Kier was right, maybe kids were all just messed up. He nodded eagerly at him. "I can tell when they're coming and going," he claimed, although there was probably pretty little he could do to prove it. "I can also tell when they are getting hungry. They sound a little like this..." He paused for a second, as if composing himself. Then, the little tom made his best bat impression. It was... not bad, but it wasn't ... good either. "Sometimes I know... other things, but that's hard to explain." He shuffled his paws slightly. He didn't know why it felt like sometimes they talked to him, so if he said it out loud, the deputy would probably accuse him of some sort of late stage psychosis. Was it psychosis? It was hard to tell, really. After all, when he wasn't blabbering about bats, he was frantically making sure everything was accounted for. Every little detail in a frenzy that could at some points look rather... psychotic. But, he didn't like to think of himself crazy. Plus, he'd heard that in these parts, every once in a while a cat would be born with a... what was it called, element? He'd much prefer believing that was his ailment, and not just that he'd been a little off since the day he opened his huge eyes.
