Don't make me [open]

[Tyra]

Jarabi
Don't mess with me
Another new place, eh? Well wasn't this... boring. At least he didn't have happy families in his face here. Oh, how fun it would have been to make them all suffer how he had. But he'd been good, he hadn't hurt anyone- yet.
The young cub stalked through the savannah looking somewhat less than happy. His tail waved in annoyance, his ears were pinned back, and there was a growling in the back of his throat.
Pads moved in a rhythm, constant, insistant, and heavy. He was not soft-footed now. He wasn't hunting, or anything like that. In fact, it was more like he was sulking. How could he not? Life was so not fair.
With each step his bulging, toned muscles rippled beneath his light golden coat, dangerous looking. But how odd it must have been to see, a small cub with bulging muscles. I mean, if that were him now what would he be in years to come? Not someone you'd want to fight, by the looks of it.
He had obviously had it rough though, his body marked severely. There was no way to tell that they had been caused by his father- any old lion could have done such things. But to such a young cub? He was only half a year, nowhere near full grown, and his right side would look terrible when he was, for the three jagged scars would grow as he did. Yes, he would never look even half decent with his whole right side damaged.
Added to that, there was always the mangled left shoulder. This was still healing, the flesh still covering the wound. But the cub was used to injuries, they didn't seem to both him any. Then there was his face. Well, his right eye to be more exact. The whiteness suggested the truth- blindness. The scar around it explained what had happened.
The left eye, however, was perfectly healthy. He stared from the dark green thing, completely used to everything not being quite where they seemed to be by now. After all, that was obviously an old wound, it had healed over now.
Calm down, Jarabi. That voice, which had become known as Liana (pronounced Lee-ah-nah) in the cub's head was perhaps his only saviour. It atempted, at least, to see things in a more positive light. Not that it had much effect, not with the constant mutterings of Kreet and Tris, and the fact it so reminded him of Adia. Was she ok? Was she, at least, alive?
Shut up, Liana. Why should he? This world has done nothing but hurt him, and so he should hurt the world. That was Tris, the sadistic one. He helped him form his plans against others, developed them, urged him on. All and all, he probably had the worst effect on the cubs behaviour of the three.
What do you expect him to do, Tris? He is weak and useless. He didn't gain a thing from his father, he's not even worth the flesh he's made of. Kreet was a down-point for the cub. If there was anything that could make him more loathing and angry it was him. Kreet never had a good thing to say for the youngster.
You two should just shut up and leave him alone. Can't you see he's upset enough as it is? Why do you always have to make matters worse? It's ok Jarabi, It's normal to get upset. But you're above this anger, you know you are. Oh, such kind words, and they would have been true if the cub ever gave himself time to calm down. But he didn't. He attracted problems.
Make them pay, Jab.
You're completely worthless.
The cub's dark ears (these cub markings were not fading, so it seemed he had gained the dark coloring his father's ears had held. Which was not a good thing- Kanye was a sore point for the cub) flicked a little and he lowered his haunches, glowering over the savannah as his stomach growled. He was no good at hunting, thanks to his eye, so it looked like it was time to scavenge yet another meal. But from where? There was not a vulture to be seen.
Or one day I'll eat you alive

[Valid]

and it was declared

that the dead were never truly gone

Alone. Was he alone? By all definitions, perhaps. Kishkir was not here with him, nor was his beloved sister, Rana, in sight. His pride, which at one time had been a thriving civilization bringing life back to the ruins, was now far from it. Crippled, fallen, and withering he knew death intimately but refused to name his own pride just that. The smell of death, the feel, the coldness, such a tantalizing woman - she let many men lay with her (as beautiful, secretive, and private as she seemed, Death was a whore... but immortal women such as her, how could she escape it?) ... yet, let us redeem her by saying few managed to wake after the event, yes? Ah, Death got her dues from every soul who met her... but from he She would not have the Yaizux. He and His were a dangerous kind. A lethal kind. The sort many underestimated, but what did that matter? They regretted it before all was done and all was tied. Resting, was the great pride of the ruins. Sleeping. Taking a nap from the world events, the pride allowed its ruler to venture and venture he did, given this vacation. Into the bowels and pits of hell, into the cracks and corners of heaven, he explored as he tended to do. Recalling the land, its valleys, mountains, jungles, plains, forests. The land of Africa, which had always been his homeland and then this region, the region he had now spent so, so very long in. Here he had started anew. Here he met both his saving grace and his damnation in the face of an angel. Was he a fool to see love in the eyes, in the figure that would kill him? He knew she would be the death of him, and knew that most likely their love was a doomed one but... love was blind, as was he. If he acted foolishly and stupidly, so be it, blame it on old age, blame it on ignorance, blame it on him. And let him laugh as they did so! He couldn't help his could-care-less attitude. Couldn't help it. Call him indolent, call him sloppy, call him thoughtless, call him what one will - he could not, nor would not, help it. He was not in the mood to care. He was not in the mood to pretend he did. He was not in the mood, he was not amused, he was content with the world, its creations, and himself. The unhappiness here, the hate, the pain, the sadness, the outcries. Screaming, throwing tantrums, the worlds "people" were little more then children. Children without mothers, children without fathers, children without love, children who have been forced to play adults when they were far from it. These "people" were not ready for life and reality, but life and reality was ready for them. It stole them from the cradle why their mum and pas were not looking, but what was he to do? Could he help that? Perhaps he could. Perhaps he could nurture and care. Perhaps he could love them where they were neglected, tend to them where they were hurt. Perhaps he could give and give and give but perhaps he would do that another day. Today he was selfish, today he would turn his back on those who demanded constantly, consistently, relentlessly. He could not give today. He had nothing to give. Perhaps tomorrow, oh, the grand tomorrow! Perhaps tomorrow he could care, perhaps tomorrow he could give, perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps. ... Or maybe not at all.

'Ralos, oh, my beloved, fiendish little pixie, why must I? Tell me why? My sins are long and tiresome, have I not paid them in full? Have I not been a good boy? Can I not earn my rightness now? Am I not done?' He spoke softly and tenderly to the slender beast who held him so. Rubbing his back gently, running her fingers through a thick, full, golden mane while tutting him quietly, this feminine creature of his, so much smaller and so much frailer, humored him and allowed him privy to her lap. Shaking her head this Ralos of his realities would cluck her tongue and simply smile. Grinning to herself in that aloof way while soothing him gently with a friendly hand and a knowledgeable word. She viewed him, as she viewed so many, as simply foolish. Silly, wily creatures of her imagination that she cared for and tended, guided along the winding road and instructed in matters they needed to be taught of and in. Fond of her he was, even though at one time his feelings were far from it. As a matter of fact he loathed her once, hated her, threatened her, and even attempted hurting her. The poor dame had encountered him in his dastardly history, had been there during all those sinful acts. Then she was but the slink in the shadow, the pester some, bothersome ghost. Now? Now she wasn't so unwelcome...

She told him, gingerly, that he was being a baby and a pest. That he was being selfish and knew it, and was simply asking questions that he knew the answers to, to just hear his handsome voice. She wondered when he became such a lazy tabby, pondered aloud when he became such a dunce... while asking, blatantly, where did the Because go that she and the others had surveyed with such respect and awe? The beast who had fell so many was not here today, she would say while rubbing his back and playing with his hair, while shaking her head and tisking quietly in that patient, mild manner. Speaking of her brought him great pain. Lonely he was, to some degree, and thirsting for those he had known for time. Rana, Kishkir, Ralos... he'd even settle for the idiotic Azure or the violent Baisu, creatures of his war times if... if they were around or even possible. But, alas, they were not. The wonderful Kishkir was off prancing about... Darling Rana had scuttled on to be an engima... Ralos was doing her duties and sowing the seeds of fate elsewhere... and then, Azure and Baisu at any given time could be in jail or murdered. Alas! At this moment he was alone. Entirely alone. With nothing but the sun above, the skies clear, and the whispers of the grasslands to accompany him. Yet, despite this he moved on. He ventured, he dared, he traveled. He was aware that these were Sekayi lands but... he discarded that along with his sense. What did pride lands matter? Better yet, what did they matter to him? Just wiss on the sand... he thought to himself as he sauntered on. A flimsy grin marking his black lips as old scars and battle wounds drew lines along his weathered golden hide. A full, large mane he bore along with the size and stature of the average adult male. Powerful he seemed, powerful he was, even despite his age, even despite his somewhat misplaced mind. But, logic was a confining thing, and for a people who had always desired freedom, what did they need with sense? Going on he ended up deep within the grasslands. The golden stalks parting to make way for the king as he strolled on past. His figure moving in broad, sweeping strides as he made good time while submerging himself in utmost leisure. It was odd, then, that the king suddenly stopped. His whiskers twitching with the air as he slunk down into the grassed and moved forward in the obvious hunch. A cat on the prowl, a feline on the hunt, he looked forward with those mischievous eyes as he examined the kitten between the weeds. Eying the young cub he crawled forth on his belly as silently and as closely as he dared, before tensing his figure and pouncing. Letting leash an ever mighty roar he let loose the torrent of noise as glitter twinkled in his eyes. Laughter reveled there as he moved to, carefully and with surprising gentleness, tackle the young one and scare the bejessus out of him.

and the living were never truly there

^{but who were we to listen? kiss my lips and bury me alive, my darling}

Out of Juice; Hope yew dun mind. x] Wittle Jarabi has been POUNCED <333333 Maybe. rofls xD Up to you if big ol' Causey managed to be a good sneak

[kishkir]

Kishkir had returned to her home and found nothing. No hair, no scent markings, nothing. She waited....pain seemed to sting her over and over and over again right through her heart. She missed her Because. She wanted to be near him. She had waited and waited. She waited many days for him....for anyone to return to the lands they had once proudly ruled. She jungle seemed so empty and her darling Hitomi...she did not return either. She could only have imagined the worse for her daughter.

After days of waiting for someone...a visitor, anyone. She finally decided that it would be the very best to just leave. She wandered for days at a time just searching for a farmiliar face or scent. She came upon none. Some hostile lioness' who made an unfortunate mistake of attempting a fight with her. She had ruined one of the lioness' lovely golden eyes. She purred at the thought of spilling blood. She picked up her step and began a low trot. Her lithe, trim, sleek body allowing her to move freely. She still hurt after being patched up, after the unfortunate incident with the hunter and the knife. She sighed and padded forward. She missed her Because. She knew she had been gone for months.

She remembered when the dark skinned people had first brought her to the compound and had fixed her. All she remembered was that the pain faded away and as they secured something to her face. The next thing she knew was that she had be laid on something soft. She couldn't feel pain and she couldn't really remember what happened after that. All she knew was that the following months flew by as fast as a charging snail. She wanted to get out of here. But the man who took care of her was kind, and she did not dare turn on him. In a way, she had taken a liking to him. And once she was finally released from her temporary home she scurried back to where she thought Because would be waiting. Sigh. No, she then only waited.

She had passed through many lands and this last one she was coming across had a farmiliar scent. But she couldn't place it. She then had to go back and smell the tall grass. It smelt so like her Because. She took the long strand of grass in her mouth and dragged it along with her. She was tired from her travles and just needed somewhere quite to rest. She looked up to see a rather large, flat, and slightly slanted rock; half in the sun, half in the shade of a large tree. She was up on the rock in one bound and climbed to the highest point. She roared letting whoever was near know that she was not to be bothered. With one huff she flopped down with her peice of tall grass which carried her 'Causies scent. She sniffed it and layed there drifting into a small ever so slight slumber.

[Tyra]

Jarabi
Go on, push it...
For he who has no dreams, life was a struggle. Each day they had to find a reason. But holed up inside the mind of one who was going crazy, there were always plenty of reasons. But, in a way, he did have a dream. A dream to find his sister and, in doing so, be sure of her fate. He didn't want her to be hurt. She was the only one he gave a damn about in this miserable hell-hole that they called a life.
Haunted by inner-demons, the cub found it hard to be, what was the word... Normal. He didn't want to play, or watch, or listen. He wanted to kill and take revenge. Already. His cruelty was ever-increasing and, one day, he would be a strong male whose desire was, in a word, twisted. Unless, of course, someone managed to steer him on the right past. Yet Liana didn't stand a chance against the others, and they were all he had.
His eyes (one a pearly white due to blindness within it, the other a dark green) scanned the savannah. Watching. Waiting. Perhaps he would soon have his stomach shut up. Then again, perhaps he wouldn't. Scavenging all depended on luck and, normally, this cub was out of luck. Life had a thing against him and so he had a thing against life.
You could always try hunting, Jarabi. That Liana was always expecting things from him that he was sure he couldn't manage. He was disadvantaged already. He was young and half bling. What did she expect- miracles? His outward growl was answer enough to her suggestion. He wasn't even going to attempt it. He'd just wait for someone to make a kill and raid it when they left.
His tassel swung from side to side as eyes narrowed. His mood was getting worse and worse. With it, he found more and more pleasure in the idea of just ripping another lions head off. There'd be plenty of meat on a lion.
As if his mind had been read, he was suddenly pounced, pushed to the floor by a huge lion. The cub's teeths bared in open hostility as he struggled against the huge lion, obviously unimpressed.
"Gerrof me!" he snapped, pushing his way from under the best. "Who the hell are you? Why are you doing that?" the frustration was growing in him, glowing in his one undamaged eye.
Show him what happens to those who mess with you. Make the most of an oppurtune moment. Perhaps he'll look away at some time, then you could go for his neck. To the cub, it sounded like a good idea. After all, this lion meant nothing to him. A death would be... Interesting to say the least.
Don't get your hopes up. You don't have it in you to kill a rabbit, never mind an adult male! The idea died right there. It was true. He was uselessly weak. He wouldn't manage it, even if he tried. Then he'd just look a fool.
"You best go." It was a comment made in a voice of not only self-loathing, but loathing for the world. There was a depressive tone hidden within it, a declaration of worthlessness. However, the cub only meant for the sentance to be a warning. If the older chose to ignore that warning what could he do?
But his thoughts were once again interrupted, by a roar. Another adult. Great. Just what he needed. More people to plan the deaths of. Yet, what would it hurt to saunter that way? Perhaps they would have food.
So, that in mind, his body tensed as he moved onwards toward where the call had come from. He heeded no warning to leave them alone, afterall he had no respect for others and their wishes. But to see her lying like that, so exposed, it was a temptation, and he charged, hoping she was already asleep, otherwise his meal would not be so easily found. He wanted so badly to sink his teeth into her neck- just as soon as he got there.
Make my day.

[Valid]

what a life I had

The best things are learned via experience, he had been once told. Then again the most dangerous things, the things that could possibly end ones life, were always a possibility for those who relied solely on "experience". He had been stubborn when he was young - vile, headstrong. Sure of his ways and sure he needed no one else, he was taught things the hard way (back then the only way for him) and suffered for it. Wounds, old wounds, littered his frame. Not so obvious now, the jaggedly light stitches seemed to have grown into the golden hide that was, yet... Though they were being covered (or perhaps healed would be a better, more symbolic word) with time, he still felt the gentle agony old bones caused, the slight, sharp pains of an ill-healing wound from his younger days. He wasn't as vigilant as he use to be, nor as fast. Still strong and still a formidable foe he was relying on damnable experience to keep his footing and remain a far pace ahead. Far from wise but quite close to clever, Because incarnated a lion in his older years. A flame that was shrinking, who had grown to his blaze but was now destined to recede. He was mortal, in every definition. He could lay with Saints and christen Devils, he could smile into the face of Fear and kiss the image of Death. He could act of his own Will or play his part in Divine Fate and Direction. And as a mortal, capable of all those things, he had an obligation to fill. One day he would return to the earth. One day he would die. One day he would cease. One day, and considering he had spent many 'other days' living, there wasn't so much doubt that the Old King's doomsday wouldn't be too far off. Too those who loved him, they could not see it. He wasn't the Queen of the Masquerade but he was, in the very least, a Marquis of it. He could hide his age in a warm, charming smile, and though he had a somewhat archaic speak he doused it in sillities and grinneries. It amused others, not give them privy to his grey hairs. 'Silly ol' kitty', they would say to him with laughter lines. And in return he would smile that smile and chuckle a few, too. Silly old kitty.

Silly old kitty. He chuckled that deep laugh as he met his mark. His weight (though never in entirety) pressing onto the small, broken yet mended, little fiend. Squishing him only to the slightest degree, Because continued to giggle, even as the little beast emerged from beneath the older lion with nasty voice and snappish attitude. The other simply wasn't as tickled as Because with this little joke and jest, was he? Such a cute, lonely little pup... why ever was he alone? Why ever was he so sour? "Who am I? A king, a wanderer, a nomad, a son, a husband, a..." Because, who remained on his tummy where he had belly-flopped the poor boy, rambled off a list of things that he was. The other asked for 'who', and thusly he was given some (never all) of the things Because had been and currently was. "I think you wanted to know my name, lad, and if that is the case you should just say so, yush? My name is Because, laddy." Said the elder of the two with a lopsided grin. Black lips curved in such a silly, yet handsome way. He played the dunce so well, the simpleton, the fool. He usually managed to even convince himself of it. "I do it because you seem as if you needed a laugh... such a serious little bug you are, laddy - you should get it fixed. If you can't laugh how are you to be happy? Happiness is quite important you know, yessum, quite important." He strew out the words slowly. Tilting his smiling face only a tough, his rounded, darker-tipped ears twitching somewhat as he wiggled his nose and eyed the young fellow once again. Quite a ragged, brutalized little pup he was, no? Blindness and scars... seemed as if, considering the skinniness, he got into a brawl with a vulture and nearly was carted off! Yet, as he was about to reply to a comment on 'best leaving' the King became utterly distracted. He heard something just as well as he could smell it. A faint perfume wandering his way on a lazy breeze. Sweet and tarty, the smell was as tantalizing as its owner and... as memorable, no doubt. Yet, to him it caused warmness and a rushing of memory and before-now's. Was this...? Could this...? He heard the command to leave the goddess be, but who was he to listen when the only creature he idolized presented herself for an audience with lowly he? A dangerous little grin-smirk found itself twisting his lips. Mischievous, was this expression, as well as quite... mhmm, for lack of the better word...

The Old King of the Ruins roused himself now with a velocity and ferocity to be revered. Throwing himself from his lay, surging off in a pure, unrated run he found a groove, a pace, and rocked the living hell out of it. Long was his stride, powerful was his motion. Using muscles reserved for hunting (he had been forced, with the absence of the idols of his pride, to hunt) and wartime he made speed and distance like no other. Noticing, then, that the cub had thrown himself into a locomotion as well, Because was befuddled, the curious look in his eyes telltale of that. But, seeing no more than the rump of the runty young one he couldn't make heads or tales (well, he could make tails but...) so he didn't. He simply continued, simply in the same direction the other had decided to move. Towards a goddess, one he had found himself missing more and more and enoughly that he had left his empty pride lands to escape the memory of. Kishkir, the heartthrob she knew she was, had a dastardly effect on him. The poor king was a victim to her whim, and when she was gone he was in quite a sore state. Enough of a state that he refused to rule and neglected pride and lands. But such was the way of love and affection and lust and all other romantic emotions, no? It gets to a point that one cannot (or maybe its 'refuses') to live without the other. Still, lucky perhaps all involved in this encounter was that Because was not blinded (entirely) by the sheer beauty that lounged on the flatrock. If he had been he wouldn't' have noticed that the young one was still running on. Like a bat out of hell he did not stop upon seeing the feminine creature but continue, and for that reason, Because wrinkled his brow. Confused again before the idea dawned on him that any creature running towards another in such a way was most likely not up to any good he pushed himself into a better and more efficient stride, attempting to close the distance between he and the lad in the short yards that remained. Moving closer he attempted, as he attempted at first, to act. Pouncing he aimed for the other, to put an end to this fast movement and whatever plans (be they malicious or not, Because could not say but he feared the unlikely bad enough to be the fool who pounced the other seemingly randomly) though, given the speed of the assault and the smallness of the other... He was not a woman, he was not the huntress and though he had been trying to improve there was little doubt in his mind the ladyfolk would outdo him any day of the week in any sort of hunting contest. And, as it seemed, this was a sort of hunting contest, wasn't it? Lunging at prey while in pursuit? Ah... he counted his stars and prayed to the lucky charms that he would succeed. The boy might have nothing planned but a wrenching gut feeling told Because to act anyway.


Out of Juice; Didn't get to revise yet buh I figured I shud post anywho. ^^'' Causey dear is being a possum and trying to jump the lad again aschucansee. -laughs-

[kishkir]

Kishkir laid upon the rock, her slight slumber not pulling her into its darkness and warth. Oh, but this was the life of a true hunter, even in sleep each sense aware of what was going on around her. Every rustle of every leaf over head. One bug caught in a spiders web. The grass at the base of her rock moving. She sighed as she kept her eyes closed and listened to the foot prints of the young one charge forward. She smiled. Keeping her eyes closed she laid there.

"If I were you, I'd learn how to be more quiet. You won't be a successful hunter unless you learn to take your enemy by suprise." She said sitting up and looking over her shoulder at the young male. She chuckled. "Well, you'll certainly not," She was cut off by the scent. Because's scent. She sniffed a couple short quick sniffs. "Mmmm, is see you've met my Because." She said smiling again. Her smile was an all knowing one. "I can smell his scent on your hide. No doubt he's feeling sorry for himself." She said. "As he has been unable to find me for the past few months and rains." Standing up and stretching. The scar that was still fresh and colored a light pink in stead of a pearl white glinted in the sun light. The foot and a half long scar would fade into a pearl white. She was still as attractive as the day she had first met Because...only with a couple new scars.

"You're asking for trouble you know. You've, I've no doubt been agressive to a rather large male and now are being aggressive to me. I've killed others for less. But, isn't it the law of the jungle that only the strong will survive?" She asked. Her thoughts were turned from the young cub before her to the large male bounding towards the two. His smell rushed at her nostrils. His rugged scent. She smiled and lunged at Because head first. Tackling him she purred and nuzzled him, licking his face affectionately. She had missed him so much.

[Tyra]

Jarabi
I'll push hard to find the limits
Such furiosity had filled the cub. Such a desire to kill. All he could think of was the taste of fresh blood. Sure, most of what he had tasted had been his own dastardly wounds but, one day, it would be far different. One day, he would have been the tyrant that caused the pain. The tables would have turned, and he would take it in his stride. Yes, the youngster was certainly bound for bad things in huis current mindset. Nothing good could come from such hatred for everything and everyone. Except Adia, but she was different. She had suffered as he had. Not as bad, perhaps, she had been lucky, but she had still suffered to their father and it gave him a sense of protectiveness over his younger sister.

It was hatred which drove the cub. Hatred deep as hell. Everything he saw then seemed red. Doused in blood. His own, that of his siblings, that of those which would become victims of the cub. When he was full grown, at least. When he had the skills and strength. Of course, that would take tiome, but perhaps his hatred would be curbed by another- perhaps someone would manage to fill his young soul with hope. Maybe love and affection would pluck him from the jaws of evil. But who was there to do such a thing for this cub? Certainly not this male, whose words only served to wind the cub up at that moment.

"I care not for your games, fool." Spat with hatred and anger, muscles tensed, eyes narrowed. The cub was surely not happy. "And what is happiness? Why would someone such as I need it? You be nothing but an old fool. Leave me be now, for there is nothing you can give that I need." Such words for a cub! He acted as if her were in charge, and yet he had nothing on the large male.

That's it Jarabi, you tell him. Make him see who he's dealing with.You are no softy, you need no love. The comforting words of one of the only friends he had ever known. Dear Tris. How he filled the cub with confidence. Confidence he didn't need at that moment, what he needed was sense.

You shouldn't encourage him you know Tris. He should be thankful that someone came along. He's going to starve. Now he's got no chance of getting a meal out of him! Or a friend, a companion. The things a cub needs. He needs love to help heal the wounds to his soul, why won't you let him have that? Liana was obviously upset, the tone of her voice said that. Hurt, but care. She truly cared for his well-being, but Jarabi rarely listened.

It was then the roar had ripped the sky, and at a speed the cub had set off, hungry for meat and revenge, spurred on by Jarabi. this was his chance. Now he could start to make the world feel the pain he did. Every fibre in his body was working hard to make it work, and yet it was not to be. The sounds of a giant looming closer followed by silence made the cub dart to the side, and he laughed as the giant crashed to the ground on his right, still going at the lioness, but then words.

Sighing, he skidded to a halt. "What do you care? Why would you care if I starved? I've no connection to you, except you are another who has yet to suffer. In the future, I promise I'll make it your pleasure." A malicious grin had wound across his features, spreading like a plague, ears flattening against his skull. Yes, he'd never be a good hunter- he hadn't needed her to tell him that.

"I met him, yeah. Though I wouldn't say he's very impressive." As he said it the lion appeared behind him and the cub's nose wrinkled at the ess's reaction. Love? Pfft. Who needed it?

It's a good job you don't rank it, because noone would rank you enough to give it to you. Oh, how pleasant. Trust Kreet to make things even worse.
Then I'll barge straight past

[Valid]

Fool? At the moment he had heard the uttered word Because smiled a smile all his own. Fool he was often called, but who said one so young couldn’t learn from a fool? Fools tended to say things… the most interesting of things. Still, to hear what the other said (about his lack of need for happiness) Because couldn’t help but wonder if the little lord had heard any of what he spoke. A fool who talked of happiness, a fool who talked of needing none? Quite a handsome pair that was and about nearly as ridiculous as each separate… but things had grabbed his attention (and seemingly the little mister’s own) before dear Causey had a chance to say what lingered on his mind - what was this creature that needed no happiness? Was it living, truly? Was it alive? Had it been born? Did it come from this Earth? Questions spiraled out of the very idea. Someone who did not feel the urge the pursue happiness? By Jove! It was the very essence of being alive, was it not? To seek out pleasure, happiness, joy, satisfaction? Even murderers, even sinners, even the most repulsive and malevolent of beings… they sought pleasures, didn’t they? They sought their own happiness? But this little beast, barely a scrap of bones and skin… he needed no happiness - by Jove! Was he not a young one to envy? Someone who had figured out the world, its creations, and the deepest pits of his own being? The sir was a genius, an epiphany in form! … And this was what he, Because of the Yaizux, thought on for a millisecond of pause. Musing about the idea, the ideals, the concept, the situation. The lad had it all if he needed not happiness. The lad… had it all, mhmm?

Having tumbled to the ground (it was during this that his millisecond to ponder Happiness and the Boy came) after lunging, Because met earth with forearms bracing and hinds following. A lovely little arch he enacted, a graceful, feline fall he partook of, he brushed off his failure with rolling success. Flopping down on impact he stretched himself and made his being there comfortable. Ignoring the fact he had missed, while reciting his glee that despite his own shortcomings, Kishkir remained as observant and prominent as always. A careful lady she was, he often forgot to recognize, one who took care of herself… just as often as she let him take care of her. Independence in liberty lined the sway of her hips, the juts of her shoulders and the light curve of her spine. Skinny she was, just a little from being on her own but she faired much better then he, no doubt about that. She could hunt… and knew how to do so better then most. Something to envy was that - the lioness, the huntress, the fatal. Women had one up on men out of the womb. Their wittiness, their cleverness, matched with their precision and ability to kill succulent din’ for the pride… If he ever needed to bet on anyone about anything, he'd be betting on the gal and her success.

“There, there little spitfire! You wound me, harm me, maim me. It is not very kind of you to speak in such a manner, you know. What if I cried, laddy? Making a grown man bawl, shame on you! Shame! Shame!” He said it so seriously, despite the twinkles in his eyes, the glitters, the glints, the sparkles. Laughter danced and fluttered. Swinging and swirling, it brought life to eyes so brown, so amber, so normal. A lion he was, a beast to fear, to envy, to commend. He guarded his pride and protected his family. He died in fighting for the integrity and dignity of others. Was that not something to respect? Yet who among him respected him? Who recognized his part in the world and how he fulfilled it? He was but an old man in the eyes of so many. Silly, old, stupid, ‘unimpressive’. Judging before the final card was dealt was never a wise thing… but everyone found themselves doing it at least once in their life, if not twice, if not thrice, if not… Because was a man not too known for his attention-keeping. Use to paying mind to many things at once he split his attention as often as he could and was relatively fair at it. But, at this moment his mind wandered and his eyes followed suit. Lingering on the feminine image who thwarted the nasty, ill-tempered boy he chuckled at her reference to him. Kishkir, undoubtedly, knew him to well… knowing he had been so gloomy and depressed without her? Mhmm, you know never before had anyone known him so well, he didn’t think. Since when did someone know him so? Know his weaknesses, his emotions? He didn’t know what to name her, nor what to think on the subject. Was love not only what everyone thought it was… but also a way of understanding? Of feeling understood and truly being understood? Of being honest and truthful and feeling it and practicing it and not regretting it or being hurt by it? Deep thoughts seemed to surface as he eyed the golden creature, magnificent and perfect in every way in his eyes… Deep thoughts, very deep. Bottomless and endless they came… in such a way that they were only negated when the petite creature came full bound at him. Tackling him the beast already on the groun he bellowed a great laugh. Chuckles surfacing as the skinny divinity tackled him and found a spot to rub raw and lick at. “Ah, woman!” He yelped with fake sternness, laughter plaguing the verse he spoke as cheerfulness seemed to exude from ever pore. Glad he was to see her, glad indeed. Yet, as due as celebration was, there seemed something amiss in this scene. Perhaps the skulking boy was it? “What do you make of him, my darling dear?” Because inquired in a loud whisper. Mischief in his eyes, a chuckle in his throat.

Out of Juice; Pathetic? Very. >< I had in mind something decent-er then a few sentences but yeah >< Forthesakeofallsakes

[Tyra]

((Puttin a reply in because she's not been on for a while. Know it's short and icky, but still gettin used to it all with him. lol.))

Jarabi
Can it be that loneliness has done harm...
After the suffering he had been put through, Jarabi was basically left without a real soul. It had been ripped, torn to shreds, by his father, and by having to leave his only living sibling in the mercy of such a beast. She, the only one he had a care for, was probably dead. Oh, Adia what did I do? I'm sorry... I should have brought you with me, should have saved you from it. But, I cannot turn back the clocks, and so I will make my wy alone, a wanderer with nowhere to go and no-one to love. That is my fate which I have brought upon myself. But I'll do it for you, sister, I'll push on. At least then, one of us will have survived. But he hadn't been expecting the arrival of the brute, the call of the femme. He had hoped, here at least, he could fine peace. Peace within his soul, and in reality. Oh well, he'd never have really been alone anyway.
He stared between the now silent femme and the brute and smirked. What was this? Was this the love the old fool had mentioned. "Well, I'm afraid that truths hurt, Because. They sneak up on you and force a dagger through the only thing you have left. But, who am I to talk? I have nothing left bar myself." The youngster's words were harsh, his tongue still speaking the only truth he could see. His good eye switched between one lion and the other, then he turned his back on them, taking a few paces away and lowering his haunches, glowering across the plains.
This is your chance, hun... At least try to be nice. They might help you. Lianna and her voice of guidance rarely went heard without the others, but for some reason they were not with him at that point, probably bickering somewhere.... At least he couldn't hear them this time. But Li, how do I know I can trust them. They are so strange... Far to happy and... a shiver visibbly went down his spine (visible only as his body shook. He hated feelings like that.) Give it a chance... Maybe you can learn what it is to be whole from them. So the cub turned around again, muscles bulging, scars, so fresh, shining slightly in the sun as a fresh scar will.
"So, like, what is this place? And, if you're king, are these your lands?" He was so forward, knew nothing but how to be blunt. Too quick with his tongue for his own good, and it made others despise him. He was shunned by society, by anyone else. His wounds made him scary, his size for his age did to. People generlly wanted to have nothing to do with him- he was just too much trouble. Yet, here he was, in conversation wth another.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, shook his head as a fly landed on his nose, then looked to the skies. The weather was taking a turn for the worse. Soon, it would rain. He didn't like water, it reminded him of when his father drowned his sister. He abruptly rose to large paws and started heading away. "Suit yourself if you want to stay out in this, I'm finding shelter." he stated, still padding off.
Can it be I need someone to help me be me?