clear&cold::The North Wind Calls (Open to Anyone)

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

The rush of wind howled about the cliffs and the tops of the mountains, a lonesome and sinister sound to the light-hearted, if not a few of the dauntless. Coupled with the cloudy, gloomy night lit only by the glow of the moon, it could bring to mind the wraiths and monsters of nightmares. The sound of rain striking rocks had lessened as the storm died down, no longer allowing one to ignore the wind's ghoulish wailing. But for one of their own, the shrieks of the demons of hell held no terror. A pale shape shifted from beneath his overhang--a shield from the rain--and moved toward the edge of the nearly barren cliff. The muted ivory of his coat brightened beneath the moonlight as he left the shadowed projection, his fur shifting from soft grey to startling white. The precise, agile gait spoke of one used to moving unnoticed and silently across the land, for the Ghost was a murderer of the darkest kind--an assassin. Here stood a creature capable of killing another without so much as a flinch, a dark being who saw the dim eyes of the dead as something unexceptional. The sacredness of life did not exist for one such as him. As the cold wind of the mountain wrapped about him, sweeping through the full mane, he lowered to an aristocratic sit. Icy gaze studied the landscape before him, ignoring the cooler temperature of Kipia as the lion debated his next destination. The remains of a human settlement could be seen beneath him, the jumbled buildings jagged and dark in the night. Eyes narrowed slightly, thinking. The scraps of human failure. How pathetic of them to lose control over lands which were once theirs. Disappointing, really. The touch of a frown appeared on the chiseled face, a sign of annoyance that disappeared quickly. Still, a visit may be prudent, if only to see if even the echo of a threat exists.

Glancing at the rest of the visible landscape, and finding nothing to deserve his attention, the Ghost settled his gaze on the dismal sky. No appreciation showed in his eyes, only a calculating stare as he stared past the moon into a scene only he could see. At last, after six bloody years, he had found his revenge. And yet, the spilling of blood did not hold its usual satisfaction. Oh, do not think the murderer was growing a conscience. Years of bloodshed nearly guaranteed against that happening. No, it was something far more important and worrisome that garnered his attention. For the first time in his seven years of existence, Virgil--prince, murderer, personal assassin, and king--had lost of control of his emotions. The desire for revenge had overcome reason and instead of simply eliminating his foe, he had annihilated the entire pride, small and weak as it was. Two years of plotting his vengennce only to have it almost wasted. Granted, he had regained his emotions at the last, crucial moment to make the death as painful as possible--and looking back, what he had done unplanned was much more satisfactory than what was originally plotted. Ah, to see the look of absolute horror in his eyes once he understood exactly what his past actions had cost him. A magnificent moment. Lips pulled into a sneer of disgust then, directed entirely as himself and the short bit of weakness he had shown. But it still remains I lost control. And that is unacceptable. I must not allow myself to falter again--not matter how...enjoyable the results are. Face smoothing into a statuesque facade once again, not even icy eyes betrayed the inner workings of his mind. To have lost control like that was a disgrace, and hardly conducive to gaining personal power. If one could not control oneself, how could he be called truly powerful? A simple answer: he could not.

Paws flexed slightly at the memory of his greatest moment--and nearly greatest disgrace. The two lionesses had been easy enough. None of the pride suspected an avenging ghost tracked their every step, a fallen angel in so many ways. The first one had been small and young, but still an adult. He overpowered her next to the river and left her body in plain sight. They would know their judgement was coming, if nothing else. The other lioness came upon her first, and he killed her just as quickly. They had had no part in his quarrel with their king, but Virgil's vengeful mind had only been focused on the fact that they followed such a man. They did not deserve life. But however sweet it was, those deaths were still proof of his lack of self-restraint--though what followed had been almost exactly according to plan. He watched dispassionately as the torn and bloodied bodies were discovered by the Queen. She left the area immediately, racing to tell her mate of the murders and unaware of the Ghost that followed. But she slowed in her mad rush by a thicket for a few moments, and he struck. Her death was not as quick as the others, for she fought with a startling ferocity and he wished for it to be somewhat drawn out. But die she did, and he slid back into hiding to await the real enemy. The pale lion's heartbeat began to race at the memory, relishing the thought of what was to come. And then he appeared. The once homeless rogue turned king--the monster who had murdered his mother six long years ago. He watched as the lion took in the sight of his dead queen before stepping from the brush with a cruel smirk upon his face. The King stepped back as he saw the white lion--he had always been a superstitious fool--before snarling at the blood staining Virgil's paws and jaw. "Bastard! I'm going to kill you!" Virgil's smirk only deepened as the older male rushed forward. With a quick movement, he had his enemy pinned and unable to move. The smile slid from his face then, leaving behind only a cold mask. Lowering his mouth to his rival's ear, Virgil spoke softly, his tone promising death. "Do you not remember me?" He proceeded to tell him exactly who he was and what had brought him here, voice smooth and deadly. His enemy's face switched from anger to terror swiftly, fueling the heat in Virgil's blood. "And now, you see, I have come to take my revenge. The two lionesses are stiff and cold by the river, and your Queen, of course, lies there. Did you notice how similar her wounds are to my mother's? It was not an accident, I assure you." A slight whimper from the male beneath him, and a look of disgust crossed Virgil's face. "You are a fool and coward, yet I will give you a chance to fight--to protect the cubs that hide close by." He nodded toward the nearby thicket, pleased at the expressions flashing across his rival's face. As soon as Virgil's weight was lifted, the other male attacked. But just like before, Virgil overpowered him. The other lion struggled then, his voice desperate as he begged for some sort of mercy. Virgil's face was impassive and cold, the taunting voice gone as he said one word in a ruthless, icy tone. "Die." The blood coated his claws and teeth, the pristine white of his fur and matted in his mane. His sharp glare landed on the three young cubs that struggled from their den toward their dead parents, but he did nothing. Whether or not they died was of no concern to him, but it would be dishonorable to kill one who could not fight back. He turned, walking away from the bodies and the frantic sobs of the cubs. He had done what he set out to do two years ago. Finally, he had his vengeance.

A week. It had been a week since then. Red no longer tainted his ivory pelt and he had found time to think the incident through. He would have to redress his sudden lack of self-control somehow, but he was certain he would find a way. What now bothered him was what he was to do now. Revenge had occupied his life for so long, Virgil no longer had a purpose. The cold northern wind pushed against him and he refocused his gaze on the surrounding area. For now though, he would continue in his wanderings. His next goal could very well appear in front of him at any time.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The sleek head was low, her jaws parted, taking in the warm air. Slim body barely noticeable against the cliff wall, for her coat was almost the same color, and she was in the shadows. Her paws spread with every step to absorb sound, her claws showing themselves slightly every time. Ears flicked back and forth, searching for any sound. Brown eyes wandered, aware of everything in her surroundings... almost. Her tail was low, the black tip flicking back and forth. Long legs stretching forward slowly as she walked along, shaded by the cliff wall. Shoulders rolled with every move of those long legs.

As she walked, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings anymore. She thought she was alone, no one else in this barren area. Her thoughts were wandering, remembering. She winced as she went back to the day she had witnessed her mother's death. The death call of a zebra alerted her of her mother's kill. She turned and trotted back toward the tree her mother was most likely going to be at. She was far away, and could not see the threat that was stalking her mother. And then the heavy snarl that was emitted from her mother's throat. The anger bubbled in her chest as she began the next part of the memory, the memory the hated and dreaded. She quickened the pace, running toward the sound of a fight. But then the battle came into view. The male--

But suddenly her head rose, swiftly into the air, her jaws parted even more. She took in the scent the wind had just brought to her. As soon as she caught it, her lips twitched, threatening to reveal her teeth. The scent was different, though it was clearly lion. She turned her head to her left, immediately catching her eyes on the white that stood out against the cliff and overhang behind him. Her gaze was hard, suspicious. She had met more than one sinister male in her lifetime, and she was suspicious of this one now. She froze, her claws instinctively unsheathed, either from the memory or from the appearance of the white male.

She turned her head away, hating the look of those icy blue eyes. She continued her walk, her jaws still parted as she panted. But every step was more deliberate now; slower, thoughtful. She tried to ignore the white lion, but one ear was always flicked in his direction, hoping to catch the sound of movement that would not come. He was like a ghost. No sound came from him, no emotion in his eyes, no sign of life except movement. She lowered her head again, now about level with her rolling shoulders. The image of the white male's face haunted her mind as she walked, like the ghost he seemed to be.

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

It was very...prudent to be wary of him. Even safer to completely distance oneself from his cold gaze. To gain our ivory male's attention could endanger one's very life, if the right reason or mood were to take him. Not that he was liable to blow up like a ticking bomb, completely unexpected and chaotic. No, his anger and murderous desires were far more likely to reveal themselves slowly, yet in a no less threatening way. Did not six years pass until he achieved vengeance for his mother through the most cruel methods? Methods that would have been impossible had he searched for his revenge right away. For you see, with whatever goal he had in mind, he possessed a nearly infinite amount of patience.

The soft, nearly imperceptible tumble of small rocks over the ground alerted him to another's presence. He inhaled deeply, scenting the air without turning to look. Years as a warrior and assassin quickly taught the Ghost the importance of keeping others in the dark. So long as they believed themselves to be unnoticed, he held control over the situation. Control and authority....power and strength.....one could not amount to anything without them. To let others lead you pointed to weakness and an inability to take responsibility for actions. No longer were you in control of the situation, but were rather governed by the whims of another.

The scent of a lionesses reached him, younger--though not by much--and uncertain. Not a threat, then. The sound of movement halted, and he withheld a dark smirk. Perhaps she had finally noticed him? When she began to move once more, her strides were longer and pensive in their step. Only then did he move, haughty head turning silently to watch her. A rather common looking lioness entered his sight--a medium-sized body, the normal tan color that covered most. There had once been a time when he had wished for such an ordinary appearance. Not anymore though, for he quickly found that his abnormal color only made others anxious, adding to their fear when they saw what he really was. The way she moved, as if hoping to avoid his detection, caused him to feel a small measure of satisfaction--for she had most certainly not escaped from his notice. Perhaps he should let her know of her failure? Mmm, yes, perhaps. You will have to do better than that. Quiet words, and a tone of boredom that covered the underlying menacing spirit. Do not provoke me, it seemed to say. He kept his gaze on her after the words left his lips, waiting and watching for her reaction.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

Her steps were still slow, uncosciously wanting to stay unnoticed. The appearance of the male was enough to make a warning go off in her head. The way he seemed to carry himself, how his head was held, the cold look of his eyes, everything was a warning to her. Just the fact that he was a male, and she was alone, made her somewhat nervous. He was clearly stronger than she was, and she did not want to be caught on the bad side of that strength.

And her own size, compared to his, made her wish she was larger. But she knew that against a lioness that was larger than she, she would get the upper hand, and she could win. But against a male, she was almost sure to lose. Even her speed and adaptation to know what the other's move would be would not help her against a male. This white lion was terribly intimidating, far out doing the lions she had met in the past. He was built for killing, anything he wanted to kill.

His voice sent a chill up and down her spine. She stopped, her left foreleg stretched out in front of her, just having touched the ground. The voice and words combined made her tense her muscles, and her lips pulled back to reveal the tips of her teeth. She knew it wasn't exactly the best thing to do around the male that could kill her so easily, but it was a refelx reaction. Once again, her claws unsheathed, sctratching into the rock underneath her. She kept her gaze ahead of her, though her ears flicked back and toward him. Her tail flicked in agitation.

She turned her head, eyes hard, the amber color seeming to burn. She met his gaze despite the silent threat in his voice. She caughed a laugh that was humorless. She shook her sleek head, her jaws shut now. "You could do better, yourself." Her words were cold, though her voice was always feminine and soft. A mother's voice, the gentle tone, yet so hard at times like these. She turned her head away again and took a few steps forward. And then she looked up, bunching her already tense muscles, and then jumping gracefully up to a ledge. She knew her way around this place, for it was a place few ventured to. She trotted along the path of the ledge she often traveled, until she was at the end of it. And she turned abruptly, walking still upward but going the other direction. When she was at the end of that, she could go no further. But it was wide here, and she lowered herself onto the rock below her. She lay on her side, stretched out in the shadow of the cliff. She glanced back at the white lion, her eyes still burning. But she looked away again and rested her head against the cliff behind her.

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

A heartless smile flitted across his face when the woman paused at the sound of his voice. The rippling of tensed muscles caught his keen eyes--a tell tale sign of anxiousness even as she refused to meet his gaze. The upturned lips had lowered to their normal straight line by the time she turned to face him, defiance shining in her bright eyes. Her firm gaze stared right back at him, neither wavering or showing weakness. A brave or foolish woman--though for her sake, she had best hope it is not the latter. Perhaps there was a slight raising of respect at the way she turned to face him, but if so, it was small and inconsequential.

She returned his glacial tone with her own frozen words, before turning abruptly away. His gaze followed her--more out of habit than need. She was the only moving thing here, and thus demanded his attention. Only when she had settled herself on her new perch did he deign to speak again, a darkly amused tone to his words. I do not waste my time slinking around others like a coward. No change in inflection signaled an accusation, yet it was there all the same. A confident look entered his pale blue eyes. I assure you, if I did not wish to be seen, you would not have seen me. Just like an entire pride did not detect me, despite the fact that I followed them for several days before striking. He paused for a few moments, letting his assertion sink in before looking toward the view again, dismissing her with a cool turn of his head. He did not fear showing his back to her, even if she was on higher ground. Should, by some odd twist of fate, he not hear her leaping at him, he fully doubted she would be able to do much damage before he began his own attack. Not that he expected her to start such a fight--and so long as she kept a civil head, she should not have to fear it either.

A few seconds of silent staring, and he rose from his seated position in a graceful motion. Although not an especially large lion, he was tall and the regal way he held himself seemed to add to that height. His form was lithe, wrapped in wiry, unobtrusive muscles. The full mane covering his neck and chest rustled quietly in the wind, hiding deep scars from long ago. Such coverage did not extend to his flanks though, where the moonlight was now given a chance to shine upon them--testaments to the many battles he had survived. He glanced back at her for a moment, pinning her with an authoritative stare. Enough time had passed between his last words and now for her to speak, so he took his turn again. What is your name? A command, not a request, from someone used to being obeyed. I have no desire to hold a conversation with one I do not even know. Never mind that he had yet to give his name. So long as he was concerned, it was his conversation and he would give his name when he had been satisfied with hers. Turning an ear back to listen for her answer, he contented himself with shadowing the edge of the cliff, moving closer so that he was no more than the width of a paw away from the open air.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

ooc: If he seems all-knowing and whatnot, I'm sorry and you are certainly welcome to prove him wrong. Virgil is just a very arrogant man who believes he does know everything. >.>

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

A flick of an ear, and a twitch of a lip, the only signs she gave to signal that she had heard him. Her gaze averted, she glared at the rocks. She would not say so, but she was getting irritated with this male already. Arrogance was something she could not stand, that and disrespect. At the moment, he was showing both. He was on her bad side, with only a few words. She closed her eyes momentarily, and let out a sigh of frustration. Although there was a hint of fear deep in her mind, she pushed it into the depths. She had nothing to fear so long as neither pushed the other over the edge. And that was the stubborn side of her, the part that would not let the other see the fear and weakness. Sometimes it was a good thing, but others it was trouble.

She turned her gaze to him again, seeing him turn away. Her eyes moved over his body, sizing him up. It was not gauging for a fight, but rather examining the chance she would have against him, should the need arise. It was a habit, something she'd gotten used to doing when she saw another of her kind for the first time. She would not let them know her if she did not know something about them, and she had adapted to knowing just how strong or weak the other was. So he was not as large as she had first thought, just tall. The mane had something to do with her mistake as well, along with the way he carried himself. But, all the same, she would have little chance against him, as she'd known when she had first seen him. Judging by the scars on his flanks, he had much experience.

She turned her gaze away again as he spoke. The command in his voice was more irritating. She disliked to be ordered around, like some young trouble maker. She tensed again, though not with anxiousness this time, rather agitation. She let a low rumbling growl escape her throat, though she cut it off somewhat short. She turned her eyes to him once more. "Who has given you the power that you have become accustomed to? Or are you really just that arrogant?" Her voice was still cold, but sharper than before. She was stubborn, so defiant. It was liable to get her into trouble. But she didn't mind giving her name, for it was only a name. It would give nothing of her past away to him. "They call me Ysega. Do not ask for more than that until I have your name." She wasn't foolish, as some might think. She was just braver than most, willing to defy the odds, even if they were against her.

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

Face hidden from her sight as he looked beyond the edge of the cliff, at the sound of her short growl he briefly raised his gaze to the dark sky in what could be counted as eye-roll--if a man such as him would ever allow himself to participate in such an immature act. A snarl cut short so quickly only proved to him that she had little control over her emotions. If she had not wanted to show her upset to him, she should have practiced better restraint. For now, you see, he knew for certain she held some irritation toward him. Knowing her emotions made her susceptible to being manipulated. How weak of the girl to reveal her feelings.

Stone face still hidden, the facade cracked a bit at the tone of her words, not the words themselves. But the tight frown only pulled at his lips for a few short moments before his countenance smoothed once again. Such disrespect from the obviously weaker of the two. The amusement it caused in the beginning turned to annoyance with her now biting tone--she would have to learn to respect those above her, and he would be happy to do so if she continued like this. He cast a glance at her over his shoulder before deliberately taking her same path up the cliff, speaking smoothly as he did so. Then you will have to content yourself without my name, for I have no desire to know more of you, and so no reason to tell you it, Ysega.

Covering the short leap and journey with confident steps, he ended up on Ysega's ledge, fur dimming in the shadow once again. Halting only a few steps from her, he stared down at the woman, his face an impenetrable wall--but the pale eyes intentionally revealing a sinister look. He spoke again, his voice more threatening and a shade darker than before. But power...power is not given, little girl. The power he possessed was of his own taking, and not that of a princeling given a kingdom by his father. Blood...murder...personal strength had won his kingdom. He challenged Kali honorably, and for all her venom and cunning, she fell easily to his claws. And you are a fool to think so.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

Her gaze followed him stubbornly as he moved up the path she had come, blocking her way out. Now he had become a much bigger threat than before, and automatically she went onto the defensive, and the fight or flight instinct kicked in. She could jump to the ground, and land where she wasn't hurt badly, but it would take her a second to get moving again, and that second would be enough for him to react and follow. She kept her eyes on him, not needing to look around at her escape routes, for she knew the place too well. She wouldn't have time to jump to the edge of the cliff above her, and it was too far anyway. She would have to fight at impossible odds, or jump and risk him following. But she would have more room if she did jump. But it was too early to do that. She would wait for his move.

She wasn't showing any fear, for that had left a long time ago. It had been replaced with her stubbornness, and it had already gotten her into trouble. She sat up, her hind legs under her, ready to spring, and her front legs perfectly veriticle. She wasn't going to show the threat that she wanted to fight, for that would trigger everything to make him go off. Instead, she sat and watched him approach, and then stop. She took in the size again, for it was easier to measure when he was closer. He was so much taller than she, and she would definitely not have a chance against him.

All of this was linked to the fight instinct that most predators held. In her it was much stronger, for she was a loner, and had adapted to the fights that often occur between lone lions. She tried to not show that her mind was focused on the fight, but he seemed so intent on killing as he stood in front of her, and that fact made her react as she would with any other lion.

She did not respond to his words, for she felt no need to. the only thing that upped her fight instinct, was the form in which he refused to give his name. Even then there was a threat, for he spoke as if she would last not much longer. She kept her eyes on him, waiting for any increase in the threat he carried with every stride. She didn't think it would be long before it appeared, if her suspicion was correct. She'd made up her mind that she would risk the jump and time gap if she was right, and see what happened from there.

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

The woman was defiant. Perhaps foolishly so. Did she not know that before her stood an Angel of Death? A ghost who would feel no remorse for her demise even if he himself dealt the killing blow. Look at her, staring back at him so obstinately and not even acknowledging his remarks. Still, he knew she heard his words well enough, and there hadn't been much to respond to anyway. Anxiousness no longer shone from her eyes. Rather, her gaze was simply stubborn. But still, the slight tensing of muscles beneath her coat showed the woman was far from calm. He returned the stare silently for a few moments, assessing her and finding himself to be (predictably) at the advantage. She was, of course, slighter and weaker than him. And though she had an air of experience around her, the ivory male wagered that it was nothing compared to his. But then, how many individuals could equal his claim?

After a few long seconds of silence, an aloof smirk appeared on his face. How amusing. A few words and she believes I am ready to attack at her at any moment. Oh, it was intelligent of her to be on her guard--but the truth was, he had no interest in her and her death would accomplish nothing. The dark smile faded, leaving behind an unfeeling expression. Foolish woman. As if killing you would even be worth my time. A low, somewhat bored murmur. What little conversation they participated in was growing old--not to mention he had spoken more in the past few minutes than he had in the entire week after his vengeance. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was speaking much more than what was normal for him. Interesting--but not enough for him to walk away just yet. Tell me, what imbecile ever gave you such a high opinion of yourself? A mocking restating of her earlier questions to him, asking of his attainment of power--and arrogance, as she called it. He remained in his position, blocking her escape, unless she wished to leap away from him. Perhaps she would do so, if she felt threatened enough. But she had proven herself stubborn enough that he doubted she would do so just yet.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

Amber eyes narrowed, only slightly, at his comment. She disagreed, but she would not say so. She was careful not to show as much of her emotions any more, and her increased irritation didn't show. She still showed no fear, though it was buried deep down in her mind. She was too proud and stubborn to show fear, or even to be afraid. She didn't relax as he spoke again in the same breath. At least she knew he didn't intend to kill her... yet. That thought still nagged at her, and she stayed tense, but she pushed it aside for now.

She hadn't spoken much, for he had unconsciously taken up most of the short rolls of conversation that had passed between them. She did not speak much anyway, for normally she was not asked to. That, and she didn't long for the reassurance of someone else's voice in her ear. She usually only got irritated, for many times others would say things they might not mean to say, or did mean to say and meant to get her fur ruffled. She was used to being alone anyway, and believed she didn't need anyone else, merely because she could not cooperate with her own kind. She would, inevitably, take over the hunt and take down the prey herself, were she ever given the chance to hunt with other lionesses. Even if she were in a pride, she would lay on the outskirts, only coming into the group when absolutely necessary. She might even just start edging farther and farther away, until she was no longer in the pride lands. That thought amused her.

Her ears flicked as he spoke once more. It was a refined version of the question she had asked only moments ago. So that is the way she should have asked it, instead of her hasty choice of words. She snorted, blowing warm air in his pale face, and looked upward before bringing her eyes back down. Her shoulders moved once with the short laugh, for she could not restrain it until then. "Oh, no one could ever give me my opinion. And I do not think of myself highly, as you do." She had to get that in, it was biting at her tongue, and she finally let it go. It wasn't much, but it satisfied her. She was really irritated, but her mood had lightened slightly when she had laughed, but not much.

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

He gazed at her steadily, showing no emotion as he took in her reaction. It appeared as if she was doing the same thing--keeping her feelings and thoughts hidden to all but herself. Interesting, and so much more amusing. Though, perhaps he now held a minuscule amount more of...respect?...no, more like approval. Very few beings earned his respect, and the chances of her actually gaining it were slim. Considering her previous actions though, he doubted that she cared all that much what he thought of her. The feeling was mutual--but for him, never had there been a creature he wanted approval from. Not from the weak fools he had been meeting all his life. It was such ideas that kept him from joining (or creating or stealing) another pride. The mindless babble of others and their utterly ignorant remarks grated on his nerves. His last pride had caught on to that quick, for an annoyed Virgil was a dangerous Virgil. And when he had ruthlessly taken the throne, any irritating fool was disposed of quickly. Soon enough, few words were spoken when he was around--something that suited the naturally silent man just fine.

She surprised him with her abrupt laugh, even though it sounded harsh to his ears. The breath ghosting across his face caused him to narrow his eyes briefly in disgust, but his expression returned to its emotionless state swiftly. Even as he processed her first words, he hid the smirk that threatened to break out as she spoke of his high opinion of himself. Did she mean it as an insult? Perhaps. But he had no reason to explain himself to her. He was under no such obligation to anyone. He knew he was powerful, and that was enough. What others called an egotistic attitude, he saw as simply a strong amount of confidence in himself. Not the cocky assurance of a strutting youth--but the conviction that came from simply knowing. And so, ignoring her final comment, he spoke cooly. Then perhaps you are not as weak as I first believed, if you allow no one but yourself to influence your mind. However, such a confession makes you the imbecile I spoke of. A cool raising of an eyebrow at the comment before continuing. It seems you are damned either way.

Such an intriguing woman he had found--if only because it had been too long since another had refused to take one look into his merciless gaze and not cower in fear, or at least submission. It may be this conversation would be more diverting than his original intention. He took a step back, releasing her from his close presence. He did not bow, nor did his head dip in a form of introduction, but the tone he used was somewhat courteous, for he doubted little else would come of this conversation if he did not volunteer something. And you may call me Virgil, if you so wish. Whether she understood the significance of his giving his name or not, he did not care. It was an opening for her to say what she wished, and at the same time an admission of his now changed desire to speak with her a little more. Should she refuse him, he did not care--for in the end, it would not be much of a loss at all. And of course, neither did this mean she was anymore safe than before.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

Clever, she thought. He had found an opening in which he could flip her own words around. It was not as annoying as the rest of his comments, just something to think about. Calling her an imbecile only showed how little he cared to know about her, and she was fine with that. The less he knew, the better. That was the way the world worked. If one knew too much about you, they had something, inevitably, against you to use.

She'd let him think she was a fool and weak, merely because she knew it was not true and she cared not what he had thought. But somewhere in her scarred heart, there was much respect for the white lion. And she found herself liking the fact that he had figured out she was not weak. She would have died long ago if she was weak. Her first death call had been the day her mother had died. She'ld learned from that, instead of letting the deep wound bleed all her will power from her. The second was the day she lost her only cub. She could have stayed behind to protect him, but she had done what she needed to keep herself alive. That gash crossed the scar in her heart from her mother's death. And there were many other occurances that had her heart scarred almost to the brink of finally breaking. But she hadn't let it yet, and she'd grown stronger instead of letting them weigh her down.

She watched the single movement of his step back, overlooking the fact that he showed no sign of courtesy through another movement. He didn't strike her as one to bow or give the dip of a head. She found the significance of him finally relenting his name easily. She was not foolish enough to think she was completely safe, and she stayed where she was. She kept her eyes on him, repeating the name over in her head, commiting it to memory. "Tell me something, Virgil: What pain have you suffered?" A random question, yes, but she wondered. There had to be something behind the way he acted, the way he moved, and the fact that he let nothing show of his mind, other than his thirst for power. And she knew he had suffered something; the scars on his flanks told her enough to know that.

[Coffee & Pickles]

Ntombi yawned, the day was long, stupid, she was tired. She looked to the horizon, not a storm in sight, her mother had told her to watch out for this place as it's unpredictable winds constantly shifted. She felt a chilling breeze blow by her fur, icy tips from the peaks of the mountain frosted her pelt. She slowly climbed down the mountain side, she'd only climbed halfway up chasing after a goat. 'I wonder, is it really worth it?' she sometimes wondered if the physical strain was worth even living, why should she have to go through all the work every single day just to live?

She frowned as she stopped once she reached the bottom of the valley. She was never going to catch food for herself under these conditions, she was no mountain lion and she was not a good hunter without a pride. She sat and licked her large paws, loose rocks stuck between her paw pads. She flexed her toes and then looked up. She had eaten, she didn't need the goat, but it would have been a nice addition for her. She had actually just eaten half of a gazelle a week ago, it had died for some reason and the vultures had only begun eating it she snagged some and the hyenas took the rest.

A warmer breeze had worked it's way as she had descended and the fresh grass had flushed her paws, a sense of calm spread through her body. Today she wanted nothing more then to sleep the day away, that or run around and do nothing. She often found that life on her own was quite boring. She had no one to talk to most of the time, and her days were spent exauhsting herself for a simple meal every day. However, on her travels she had met a few... interesting characters, to say the least. It wasn't that they were all bad, some of them were just strange, and others scared her only because of their rather... crazy preformances.

The pretty lioness was about to leave when she heard something, voices. Her ears pricked high above her rounded skull, their fur fluffed out, attentive. She couldn't exactly hear what they were saying; only a few tones even crossed her path, low ones. She wondered for a moment before her curiosity destroyed her prudent behavior. She stalked forward, as quietly as she could. She sniffed the air, tasting two lions. Her instincts told her to stay where she was and turn around, she didn't need a confrontation, she needed to get something to drink, but again, her curiosity kept her going. She weaved through the ground and then came to a halt when their voices were more easily heard, she could barely see them, but flecks of gold and brown in the distance. She paused enough to hear a lioness speak, sure it was an odd question, a question that Ntombi would have never asked the male lion. He was big and looked like he was strong.

She preferred not to be nosey, and they seemed harmless enough. She knew his name, Virgil, as the female lion had directed her voice at him, now what was her name? Ntombi opened her blue eyes wide and stood up slowly. She walked up further until she could clearly see the features of each lion, and they could clearly smell her. What no fear? Perhaps, Ntombi had no fear, perhaps she was stupid, but either way there was no refuting that she was certainly bold. She walked up to the two lions and sat down. Her nosey self had enough of sitting around and all she needed to see was that there were only two of them, she may not have been strong, but she was fast enough to get away… hopefully.

"Hello," she mused her eyes looking at Virgil for only a moment before looking at the female. She paused, her blue eyes falling to the ground and then she backed up looking at the two. "Sorry about that, I just happened to be passing by when well, I heard you conversing, none of my business however, it was, as much as I hate to say, my curiosity which had attracted me here… I must learn to control that more often." She looked up at the white lion and giggled a bit. True, she was a flirt, shame full for her yes, how horrible that she got her way and survived. She saw herself as shameless for only a few moments, before she turned her head towards the other female and smiled warmly.

---

[muse] None
[puppet] Ntombi

[Lassiel]

Power tends to corrupt.

Power won't save your soul.

Power is not wisdom.

Oh, but you are dancing with the devil now, Ysega. Agreeing to hold a conversation with me--for that is what you are doing--is rather dangerous. Again, she was showing that stubborn streak, that part of her personality that could either benefit her or get her killed. Not that he cared what happened to her. No, Virgil did not care for others, much less love them. Such a useless emotion love was--constantly getting in the way of your true goals and providing trouble. If you showed attachment to someone, invariably another would use it to harm you. It was simply the way the world worked. Love made one weak, and so Virgil did not allow himself to feel it.

Her gaze did not waver as she asked her question, testing his name in the process. Upon hearing her words, the frigid ice in his own eyes immediately hardened--not that his stare had ever softened. Impudent girl. The words hissed through his mind even as he kept the unfeeling facade up. To so brazenly ask such a question to him! Were he not in a (somewhat) sociable mood, it could have very well earned much more than a threatening glare. Did she honestly think he would give her an answer? The claws raking across his skin, the crimson blood a sharp contrast to his ivory fur. A fruitless attempt to fight off his attacker. Idiot girl, to think he would give her an answer. Grey eyes dimming, even as they watched him intently as she tried to convey--Head rising slightly in disdain, he gave her a disgusted look. His past was no one's but his own. And what makes you think--

The chilly words were cut off suddenly as the ever vigilant assassin caught the scent of another coming upon them. His head turned sharply, watching the woman's arrival with hawklike eyes. How foolish this girl was to walk up to them--to him--and expect a warmhearted conversation! Even Ysega had attempted to skirt around him without speaking a word. Not that he had allowed that to happen, obviously. And now the lioness was sitting down making herself perfectly comfortable--something always to be avoided when he was around. As the newcomer spoke, he assessed her quickly, as he would do to anyone at their first meeting. All that caught his immediate attention was her blue grey eyes--or rather, the fact that one of them looked lighter than the other. But really, overall there seemed to be nothing extraordinary about her. Turning his attention back to her words--for his study of her was quick and to the point--he came to the unpleasant conclusion that she was rambling. And as the words continued to pour from her mouth, his gaze narrowed more and more. He despised fools like this! Perhaps that was why his talk with Ysega had not been cut short yet--she didn't babble on needlessly!

When the unnamed woman glanced at him and giggled, a growl began in the corner of his mind. Like usual though, the sound did not make it past his lips. Instead, the full force of his cold glare was directed toward her as he spoke. You must also learn to control that tongue. The words were quiet, though still harsh. And before it runs away with you again, what do you want? By the tone of his voice, he refused to be ignored. And icy as ever, he did not attempt to cover the threat his voice conveyed.

There is nothing in me to corrupt.

My soul does not need saving.

Wisdom is the the crutch of the weak.

[Kamaria]

The past is gone.

No one can bring it back.

Nothing can change it.

Ysega knew what he was about to say before he even finished. But she waited just to be sure she was right. But, strangely, the words she expected didn't come. She never had really expected him to tell her, but she had wondered what he would say, and instead his words were cut short. In fact, nothing sounded from the lion's maw. She was slightly confused at first, but then the scent of another lioness wafted to her nostrils. She turned her head, her amber eyes looking immediately over the younger female.

She was young, years younger than Ysega and Virgil. But even in her young years, she was big. Not in height, for there she was about the size of Ysega. No, she was just stocky, if you wanted to put it in one word. Ysega noticed her eyes, for that was the most intriguing part of the lioness, though they weren't much. One was slightly lighter than the other, and Ysega guessed from experience that the young female was partly blind. She almost pittied the young female, but it sank away as the lioness padded forward.

She was so bold! Ysega raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise at the foolish bravery of the young female. She wondered, what in Africa was going through the lioness' mind? She didn't seem to care that Virgil's icy stare--she could see it from the corner of her eye--was burning into her pelt. Ysega looked over the lioness again, though she found nothing more than her first glance had told her. She tensed the muscles in her back ever so slightly, aching it in the slightest way, as the young female began her long explaination. She flattened her ears against her head, turning them to the side, trying to ward off the light-hearted gabbing. She flicked her tail impatiently.

She brought her ears forward slightly as the voice died down, though they were still flattened sideways, only turned up a little in the front. She was waiting for more of the lioness' talk, when she noticed that the young female had glanced up at Virgil. Her ears came all the way forward at that point, just in time to catch the light giggle directed to the white lion. Her eyebrows went up further at the sound, just at the fact that it was directed at Virgil. Surely this lioness couldn't see that he was dangerous in more ways than even Ysega could count. Ysega noticed the tiniest hint of tension in Virgil, though she showed no sign that she had seen anything at all. She stared at the lioness with slightly widened eyes as she turned to the older lioness.

Ysega's eyes were distracted by the young female's eyes and smile. There was something so familiar in that look. The flash of a memory of an older lioness curled in the shrubs as a cub stood over her, that same smile resting on her gentle features. She'd seen that look in her mother time and time again, before that wretched loner had come along. And she was sure that look had come into her own eyes more than once while she had been with her young cub. A sadness she almost could not control threatened to overwhelm her, and she curled one corner of her mouth just so she wouldn't be rude, and then abruptly turned her head away, as if someone had raked their claws down her jaw. She got her emotions under control quickly, and then looked up again.

Virgil's words to the young female didn't surprise her. She had expected nothing kinder to come from the male, especially after the actions of the young lioness. Her own eyes were hard, determined. She wouldn't let her emotions get away from her again, at least not while she was still here.