Trespasser :: Anyone?

[//Cindy// l u n a]

Shimmer almost laughed out loud at the opportunity the question presented. She had half a mind to use the perfect set-up to softly meow that she was. But that would be stupid, giving both cats an easy warning and time to prepare. Besides, she wanted one of them to make the first move. So she passed on the evil joke that would have been so easy to make, and silkily purred, "Well, that's complicated. The four StarClan-believers-" she almost spat out the words as if their shape stung her mouth- "tend to back each other up against outside forces, and they together are formidable in numbers. And RogueClan and Touslepelt's army are working in a truce with one another against the four other Clans. Those two combined are also strong. None of the groups can really die out. If you kill one leader, another cat takes over." She wondered briefly if she had given him too much information, but didn't really care. He was strong, perhaps, but Touslepelt was surely stronger. She wished that she could say the leaders of the Clans were weak, but this was not true. The Clans were strong, as were those who headed them. She wanted to believe that Darkheart was a stupid cat, unable to fight, but she was too smart to fool herself. She wanted to kill him in battle some day, and not underestimate him. In the back of her head, a voice of reason told her not to bother, but she ignored it as usual. That poor section of her brain didn't get any attention. Shimmer relied on her instincts and skills, not the pessimism within her. If asked her personal opinion of which group was most powerful - and if she actually wanted to answer truthfully - Shimmer would say Touslepelt's Army. Again reason told her that the Clans were stronger, but she barely noticed and certainly didn't care. This was her group, and, though she hated the very idea to a nauseating point, she had long since accepted that she was in love with its leader. Thankfully, no one knew. In that section of the forest, having kits often didn't mean anything but craving power.

Shimmer could feel her blood rushing, wanting to hurry up and fight. Her claws of the paw she had finished washing sunk into the ground beneath them, and it took mental effort to pull them back up into their sheaths. Her jaws itched to clench on something soft and penetrable, something that would leek the taste of salty blood onto her tongue. Her eyes wanted to take on that natural hard gleam, that thrilling coldness. She wanted to move in swift, coordinated motions, purposefully and watchfully, just as she had taught herself to do. She wanted that adrenaline rush, the feeling of power after a kill. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to win, but she would certainly wound these two. She forced her muscles to be convincingly relaxed. She walked her front paws forward, leaning into a long stretch. It seemed a very strange thing to do, but Shimmer carried off the action so carelessly that it seemed quite normal. She stood up again, carefully keeping herself from tensing up. She would wait until one of them made a move, if only for the self-discipline.

[Ritz]

Bleach shook himself, a nasty little habbit he developed along with stretching himself until his muscles ached in protest. He stretched when he was bored, he shook himself when he was irritated. He was actually both right now, but he chose to shake himself instead of stretch. The she-cat was telling him an awfull lot, but nothing he really cared for. So another cat took over when the leader died? So the four religious clans stuck together? So some cat had a lot of followers? None of that mattered to him. Lure them apart and fight lots of one-on-one battles instead of one-against-many, and kill them easier. Kill off the leader, then quickly snap the second, leaving the lesser ranking cats scrambling with the loss. Attack all groups but one, and leave the remaining clan to the suspicion of the others. There were many ways to skin a cat, so the saying went.

His expression changed to one of annoyance as he glanced back at the tortoiseshell before snorting at the she-cat. He dimly noticed that her claws kneaded the ground before returning to their sheathes. It suprised him that it had taken her this long to show anything like violence or fear. Either the she-cat was incredibly stupid, or very clever. He couldn't take the chance that it was the first one, judging by the casual way she made every last motion. The careful look in her eyes? No, a stupid cat would have a foolish look about them, a goofy grin on their features. The tortoiseshell didn't strike him as stupid either for that matter. Mad maybe, but not stupid. A stupid cat wasn't a killer, and the tortoiseshell obviously was.

The annoyance in his eyes became more pronounced. "So, from the way you speak of the religious clans, your either a loner, or one of the Rougeclan or Army." He meowed, looking bored. "Now, please answer my question straight. Which, of the religious ones and the rouges, is stronger?" His tone implied clearly that he had no interest for the weaker. Who would? He turned his head again to look at the tortoiseshell. "If you know, say something. I'm tired of beating around the bush here." Did he care if that irked the she-cat? Not in the slightest. As a matter of fact, he hoped it did. Serves her right for making him repeat himself.

Ah, Bleaches inner vanity was a beast all it's own. As well as his pride, madness and other apparent personality flaws. Lots of twisted little monsters, lots and lots of spiteful ways parading through his head and presenting themselves shamelessly for the world to see.

[//Cindy// l u n a]

Shimmer smiled inwardly. Finally, a direct way to annoy this cat. Slowly, she let the emotion show just a little on her face. "Now, that depends what you mean by strong," she purred, her voice like silk. "There is a lot going on. ShadowClan used to be the strongest, though ThunderClan's ways ruled the forest. Now ShadowClan has been driven out and traitors occupy their land while they seek refuge with their old enemy, ThunderClan. RiverClan and WindClan can fight, but they prefer to choose sides than make their own quarrels. As for RogueClan and Touslpelt's army, RogueClan is the greater. But if the leader, Darkheart, broke off from Touslepelt's Army, a goodly number of his cats would go with the loners. So they are dependent on each other." She acted both as if she really was trying to help and as though she was drawing it out just to annoy him. It was nether, really; she was drawing it out, but not as much to annoy him as to hasten the fight that she could sense drawing nearer. Also, the long-furred she-cat loved being in charge of any given situation, and this was a good example. There was a cat trying in vein to get a straight answer from her, and another waiting for their circling conversation to cease and for the violence to begin. It made it easier to be patient. She could've continued until the white cat decided to inturrupt her, but instead wished to stay in control even above starting a battle. She wondered which side Phobia would choose, then reasoned by the blood on his fur that he wouldn't bother picking a cause. She didn't answer all his questions, wondering if he would ask again the ones she left out, like what group she herself belonged to. If he did, she would continue to explain everything the long way. Her eyes were soft, almost like she didn't realize what she was doing, but of course she did.

[Ritz]

Bleach sighed. The she-cat was a lost cause, and Bleach didn't bother with lost causes. Even when he hunted down his family, they hadn't been a lost cause. He knew full well that one of them would slip, and he could catch them off guard. But the she-cat? Bleh. Granted, she had given him a good deal of information to think about. But she still hadn't answered him as far as which of the two groups was strongest. Among the groups, he could safely say he had a good idea. But between the two, he was still in confusion.

He sneered at the she-cat, not speaking. If this was how she played her games, then fine. Bleach could play nasty to, and often did. Beat around the bush? Screw with a cats mind? Well, he never did the fromer, but the latter was an all-to-common trick for him. A trick that worked in many shapes and forms. He wasn't sure of the she-cat, but he had a vauge idea of how to manipulate the situation to his liking.

The white tom turned to grin at Phobia. "Sounds to me like the religious ones have the upper paw." He meowed, flicking his tail. "If not in sheer numbers, then by the fact that unseen cats stand behind them. Personaly, if I were to join in this little game, I'd probably side with the Rouges. I always enjoy an unfair fight, and the rouges seem less organized then the clans to me. They would obviously lose if things ever came to a conflict" He was lying through his teeth, but putting on a good show as he did. Religious cats had about as much appeal to him as a rotten mouse corpse. Disgusting.

"I pity the fools who send themselves into an obvious loss though, and probably wouldn't be among the rouges in that particular battle. Who knows? I might even be able to come in afterwards and pick up the peices." It was an entertaining idea, and he looked back at the she-cat to let the thoughtfulness show in his eyes. Deep down, he knew he wouldn't act on such a plan. Well, it wasn't likely that he would. He prefered working from deep in the shadows, where cats could cower in fear at the unknown dangers hidden where he lay in wait. It was too demanding to be shadowed when he would have to work among other cats in close proximity. Bleach didn't play that game.

[/size]

[Miss Midnight||]

Either Phobia hadn’t heard her jeer, or he just didn’t care about what she had to say. Their conversation began again and he growled out of pure exasperation. Now he was just plain tuning them out, their words beginning to slightly slur in his torn ears. He hissed out loud after Bleach finished talking. It doesn’t matter who’s the strongest, boy. The tortoiseshell snarled. He thought that this white desperado was somewhat ambitious by his words and this annoyed the hell out of Phobia. He hated ambitiousness; nothing ticked off more then a cat whose pride had seemingly rushed to their head in his amber eyes. He took a step forward challengingly, a nasty smirk rested on his face.

[//Cindy// l u n a]

Shimmer laughed musically as the white cat spoke. It was an idiotic thing he was explaining; he simply didn't understand the complexities of the forest. Fights weren't all about strength and speed, but about advantages and trickery. Loosing a battle didn't mean loosing a war. Numbers didn't add up to victory. There were too many factors in play, an unpredictable lack of balance in the politics of the world she knew so well. He wanted a clear-cut answer, one that did not exist. There had never been a one-on-one fight between, say, WindClan and RogueClan. Even if there had been, it wouldn't say which Clan was greater in strength. She was about to answer with more complex answers to bug the tom, but Phobia spoke before she could:

"It doesn't matter who's the strongest, boy."

The words were a much more direct way of what Shimmer was trying to drill into Bleaches mind the long way; he was asking all the wrong questions, caring about all the wrong variables. The she-cat's approach took advantage of his desire for simplicity, giving him exactly what he didn't want. Phobia, on the other hand, said it straight out. As the tortoiseshell stepped forward, Shimmer recognized the beginning of the real confrontation. It would start out between Phobia and the nameless white feline, and Shimmer would help the cat who seemed to be loosing. It wasn't that she liked fighting with more of a challenge; weaker cats, like the one she'd help, were easier to kill one-on-one. Two deaths were much more exhilarating than one.