Post by ren on Sept 4, 2007 14:57:45 GMT -6
Despite her age, Brassa moved well. The tall grass and a-typical landscape only enhanced this, making her seem like some great hunter, wizened with her age. In this land of fairytale Africa, anything seemed possible. Though Brassa could not help but chuckle at the idea of her being something mythical and strong - it just didn't suit her, not at all. She was Brassa, bold and brave, but never anything more than her aged body allowed. If she could have sighed just then, dear Brassa most certainly would have. She was in the center of this place now, looking around curiously, but deep inside her head and heart she was back with her children; the defiant Tanka, suspicious Trinka, flamboyant Garrett, sensitive Silka, pale Larka, and last, the only one not from her womb, hateful Vassago. That black-maned boy who murdered and plundered without regard. It was he she would have sighed for, wanting more than anything in the world to understand why he'd done such things. She'd raised him well, fed him better than she'd ever fed herself, and loved him dearly. It made hunting him down seem so heartless now.
She sits, old bones creaking. There was a pride here, that she could smell, but it seemed like they were not around or perhaps hadn't noticed the tarnished lioness. Then again, she wasn't a threat, anyone could see it, so maybe they didn't bother iwth her. In any case, Brassa sat in the grass, amber eyes alert but at the same time empty - stuck on her thoughts. She questioned what had brought her to Vassago, why she'd taken him home... worse still, what went wrong. Seems like that always caught her off guard, that a cub she'd nurtured and reared turned violent and vicious. Even Tanka, rebel though she was, never killed or maimed. She just hated authority with a passion and went rogue. Hurtful, but so much easier to take than a son who hated life. Why could he not have focused his loathing on her, on old Brassa? That she would have understood, could have accepted meekly, without fight.
But he didn't, and there was no use asking why or why not. Old as she was, Brassa was on her very first lionhunt, body nearly failing but going on until her goal was reached - Vassago had to be stopped, before he did something very dastardly. It's all she could think of, stopping him, destroying the evil. The footfalls behind her weren't heard - she was a little deaf these days - only the echoing mistrust of the pride when she'd brought her black-eyed boy home. If only she'd listened, if only.
[ OPEN ]
She sits, old bones creaking. There was a pride here, that she could smell, but it seemed like they were not around or perhaps hadn't noticed the tarnished lioness. Then again, she wasn't a threat, anyone could see it, so maybe they didn't bother iwth her. In any case, Brassa sat in the grass, amber eyes alert but at the same time empty - stuck on her thoughts. She questioned what had brought her to Vassago, why she'd taken him home... worse still, what went wrong. Seems like that always caught her off guard, that a cub she'd nurtured and reared turned violent and vicious. Even Tanka, rebel though she was, never killed or maimed. She just hated authority with a passion and went rogue. Hurtful, but so much easier to take than a son who hated life. Why could he not have focused his loathing on her, on old Brassa? That she would have understood, could have accepted meekly, without fight.
But he didn't, and there was no use asking why or why not. Old as she was, Brassa was on her very first lionhunt, body nearly failing but going on until her goal was reached - Vassago had to be stopped, before he did something very dastardly. It's all she could think of, stopping him, destroying the evil. The footfalls behind her weren't heard - she was a little deaf these days - only the echoing mistrust of the pride when she'd brought her black-eyed boy home. If only she'd listened, if only.
[ OPEN ]
