He had said recently that if she needed him in a fight, that he would come. She did not need him right this second, but in the future if she wished to leave the pride she'd accidentally been claimed into, she might. Ears pressed back against her skull in worry. Worried that because she hadn't fought back against Rythian when he'd claimed her that she would be disowned. Worried that her small family might think her not worth their time for simply accepting the fact she'd been claimed. Worried that they might just leave her behind and then she would be left with no one.
A small whimper escaped her as she wound her way around the base of the mountain, down on the flat plains before you make your way up the trail. It was easier to do anything in the neutral lands, as anything involving her new pride was to do with the cave system. She didn't belong in a cave, but for now she'd have to make do.
A frustrated sigh escaped her, ears still pressed back, when she lost the males scent once more. She'd become gold at tracking in the last valley, when she had started to become an accomplished young hunter for her pride. Her emotions and worries were getting her nose all tangled up until, finally, she threw herself on the ground below a tree, giving up for the time being until she could sort through the mess in her mind.

How long had it been since he'd seen Genya? Touched her? He could tell the days, hours, minutes, marking seconds in how long it took for the leaves to sway or the waves to crash, but mostly he felt that every breath since he'd reluctantly taken his leave had been a new agony. Imagine? Every breath another breath alone. Potentially forever. Was that other guy her brother or her mate? He pored over it but did not know - a question for Ambrosine, who was wiser than he, and could tell friend and foe with just a second's glance.

Was this really agony? Not common agony. The pain of a fresh wound - and for a cannibal, battle-driven, this was exhilarating. Daggers shone in his eyes as well as stars. He was hunting something that whimpered and sighed. Down through the neutral lands, where nobody held claim or protection, his steps swift and silent. Silent only because he felt alive and graceful; but in his actions careless, not thinking to sneak and circle about once he had tracked his quarry to around the side of this tree. Around this tree now, with a grin, coursing around with the bark near to one side of him, a high predator's gait as though he was a fox looking to hop through snow in search of a vole - but he came up short and squat, limbs splaying when he saw her, frustration and confusion on his features that were still love-struck and vacant. He panted thinly. "Euh. You." Disappointing.

The fact that someone was stalking her was lost on the girl, caught up in her woes as she was. Bad move, letting your defenses fall in a neutral land, but so far she had had nothing bad happen to her to cause her to become on edge. The first she knew of someone being nearby was a disappointed expulsion of breath in the form of 'euh. You.'
Well, that hadn't been the greeting she had hoped for, but it was to be expected given that as far as he was aware, it hadn't been that long since they'd last seen each other. Head lifted to look up at him, surprise on her own features that the one she'd been looking for had been the one to find her. Momentarily she wondered if the reason she couldn't find him was because they'd been circling each other in the valley without realising. All the same, she was glad to see him, but now wasn't entirely sure what to do now that she'd found him.
And what was with the terrible greeting? Mind flickered back to the expression upon his face when he'd been looking at the black coated woman fighting, and then desperately speaking to his sister before rushing over to the woman's fallen form. Perhaps he'd been looking for that other woman instead. Head tilted as she rose once more to her paws, offering a friendly but apologetic smile for not being the one he'd been looking for.
"Good to see you too," she offered, no laugh following as usual. "Were you looking for someone else?" Might as well interest him in his own conversation rather than weighing him down with her own worries. After all, the chances of him caring she assumed were slim, and he followed Ambrosine anyway, so she would be the one to speak to about her predicament.
For Vermier, they could have a conversation about himself. It might out her mind at ease.

His limbs were already folded in alarm, but now he relaxed them, scrunching his hindquarters into a solid crouch but leaving his forelimbs slightly wide. Agitated and ready. Amra's reaction was less than desirable and, though his thoughts soared with artistry and he felt like he could understand the secret of everything, he took her 'good to see you too' (which he knew as an English greeting) without the dead sarcasm intended. Vermier was not happy to see her! He had so much potential. He could hunt, could kill, could seek out Genya again to wed. All of these were more interesting than what he viewed as a thoroughly domestic conversation with one of his sister's hunters. "No! Eez sad!" He protested, keening his chin angled to the heavens. Such an ugly sky, broken by these dead leaves, and presiding over an unfruitful conversation. "You no food! No Genya! Mine body, leever?" he gestured at his chest, forgetting the word for 'heart' and substituting it with 'liver' which sounded better and more correct to him, more French. "No for word now. Eez for hunt, for kill, for...." he trailed off, struggling with words as usual but the one that entered his mind did not seem to fit. "What I want of Genya eez no proper English word," he shabbily admitted, his gaze a little downcast and cheeks burning even at the thought. He wasn't going to teach @Amra any swear words. He had morals at least one moral, today.

Vermier's anxiety and agitation was beginning to rub off on Amra, who considered her options. Head tilted at Vermier's stance, his legs spread, ready to fight or flight if the situation called for it. She had become more comfortable in his presence, not immediately fearing he would attack her, but he was still created vastly different from herself, and she did not yet know him well enough to know which direction he might take. And so after she spoke, she simply waited, rather than barraging him with words.
She needn't have worried about prompts to keep the conversation flowing. The male keened toward the sky, expressing his feelings of sadness to both the surrounding area, the dead tree, the heavens, and to Amra. Amra wasn't food, wasn't Genya, wasn't useful to him at all. Lever? What was a level doing in his body? (pull the lever Kronk!). His gesture toward his chest helped understand it was one of his organs, liver perhaps, which wasn't in his chest, but Amra wasn't about to educate him when he was spilling his soul to her.
Finally it boiled down to the point of his feelings, that he wanted Genya and that Amra was a lousy consolation prize when he'd been looking for the black coated woman instead. Vermier's sudden shy attitude, his lowering of his head in an attempt to hide his face had Amra's heart leaning toward him in sympathy. He had been one of the ones to take her bodybout of the cavern, but she figured asking why he'd left her would be insensitive given his current mental state.
Honestly, she was entirely unsure how exactly to go about consoling him. She'd tried to console Xerxes once and had failed miserably, and Vermier was a different kettle of fish again. "You should find her and tell her how you feel, show her how you feel," Amra offered with a tilt of her head. She didn't know who the other male had been, if he'd been friend, family, or lover, but there was only one way to find out, right?

The depth of the situation engulfed him. All the beautiful words were French. He didn't know enough English to tell her how he really felt. It would be completely insufficient. She wouldn't understand just how truly deep and unique his love was. His pale brows scrunched. He remembered again that each beat of his heart was another moment of loneliness. Now his lips scrunched too, and his whiskers tightened. He couldn't ask too much advice of his sister on this, because it was too petty a matter, but - if Amra was willing to help? "I show or tell?" his gaze perked up, suddenly interested. And realizing. His tail wiggled. Amra was a female. She was naturally more in tune with emotions. Her advice in the region of love and politics would be naturally superior to whatever he came up with himself. She could help! "I want tell. Most beautiful poemtry. Eef she love me, for poem? Aaa!" His eyes rose again, lolling back toward the heavens. If he spoke the most beautiful poem... and she fell in love with him... he would explode into a pile of cannibal suds. His whiskers shook as he agonized. "I have most beautiful poem, in liver, but in word? My English bad."

The agony Vermier showed in his actions, his subtle expressions, they all had Amra's heart fracturing ever so slightly for the poor man. She was unsure if he had ever loved before, but given how he was reacting, the young girl was sure he hadn't.
At the very least what she had said struck a chord within Verm, who was almost leaning forward in his eagerness, his tail vibrating, his eyes awash with hope. It was so adorable to see, when she knew that the other side of him relished in blood and gore and fighting. Went to show you can't judge a book by its cover.
"Why not both?" A valid question, no reason you couldn't take something to show love when declaring it by voice. But Vermier had other ideas already, a beautiful poem that he wished to share with Genya, only stopped by the barrier from French to English. "I can try help. If you try and explain what word you're trying to say in English, I might be able to help," Amra offered with a hopeful grin. "For example it's your heart in your chest you're feeling these emotions in," Amra explained, raising a paw to press against her own chest to show him where it was. Not liver, but heart.
Oh to partake in someone's fresh love! Amra had never loved anyone herself, nor been loved by anyone, so to live love through a third party was most exciting!

Both? Both was good! "Both!" he immediately acquiesced by habit, but tempered himself. He shouldn't blindly follow anyone unless it was his sister. He tried to still the wiggling of his tail, and he tried to think of any flaws in this plan. "No. No both. One first. Eef no work, still has plan!" If she hated his poetry he would ply her with valuables! And if his gifts did not win her heart, more poetry! Oh, the black muse would not escape him, because she had invested in him the determination to win her.

Amra could help! Hmm! Vermier looked at her carefully, squinted, tilted his head as though he was thinking deep thoughts but really all he could think about was Genya. That was the problem with planning how to win over Genya... it involved thinking about Genya... and he could not think clearly when he was thinking about Genya! It was a terrible pool of quicksand in which he stepped. "English eez ugly. Eef more good English, maybe poem bad. But! No French!" he shook his head, fearing this was what Amra might suggest next. "For Dieudonne! No not-Dieudonne! I serve Dieudonne... eef loss Genya for ugly English poem, very sad, but no French." It would be absolutely terrible and Amra's encouragement just tampered his mood in just the wrong way that he was veering into despair. "See? 'Heart' ugly word. Liver more good."

As greedy as ever, Vermier was quick to claim both options, and Amra laughed slightly at his enthusiasm. But then he spent a moment longer considering, which Amra allowed without interruption. After a moment’s thought, Vermier chose to do one, then another if the first plan failed. Amra nodded. Good choice! Amra lowered her rear to the ground, settling herself daintily as she thought of how best to help him.
Her offer of the name for heart was met with rejection, claiming English to be an ugly language. I mean, it’s not like Amra disagreed. Listening to the Dieudonné converse in French was also nice to listen to, which had Amra squint an eye in thought.
”What if..” she began, trying to meet the males eye to pull him out of his spiral. She could tell he was going downhill by his babbling. She’d never seen him, or anyone, so tongue tied about anything ever before. ”What if you recite the whole poem in French, a beautiful melody of speech, and then at the end of it tell her what it was about, rather than translating it word for word where it would lose it’s meaning?” Amra knew that she would swoon if someone started declaring their love for her in another language, surely this Genya woman would be no different.

Quick, superficial, and weak went his emotions down the emo spiral, as fleeting as a dust devil. Vermier was very proud of his poemtry and he could not stand the thought of being rejected because it wasn't good enough. He stared at his paws, seeing them stained a delicate lavender rather than the disordered red that they should be. If it was necessary to kill to win Genya's affections he would also do so - he would do anything - but if so, he was merely being rewarded for the job he always did. Nothing special in it. No, it would be a thoroughly normal wooing, and Vermier kept the superstition that when he found love it would be magical.

@Amra tried to lure him from his unproductive spirals and reluctantly he met her gaze, but her explanation was too full of weird English verbs and words and phrases for him to parse. Once he lost track, somewhere around 'melody of speech', he couldn't pick it back up. He stared at her with his jaws loose, nearly unhinged but with their leathers still pressed close. She was saying something about French... her tone suggesting that what he had said was impossible was wrong and it was still possible somehow? It was possible he had misinterpreted so he only frowned primly. Vermier did have a moral in this. Obey the laws of the family. "No French! Little word maybe... mademoiselle, madame, cheri? Eez good." He had not met anyone dear enough to call cheri but mademoiselle had such a beautiful roll off his tongue. It announced him as immediately French, which he liked.

"But! No big word! French eez no other lion speak. Be long ago:" Vermier was trying to tell this story in the past tense but he doesn't know past tense so his player is helpfully breaking the fourth wall to tell you what he is trying to do. Good job player. Have another glass of wine. "Old Dieudonne, strong Dieudonne, mother of mother of mother of mother...." he waved a paw suggesting and so on and so forth. "She hear French of other lion tongue? Say NO. Claw tongue! Bite, fight, maim of tongue! Blood mouth! And bad lion say no thing again, no thing ever! No tongue!" His gaze grew heated, re-energized, but instead of imagining Genya this time he was engulfed in the glories of long ago. He mimicked clawing at his own tongue as he told of it just because it was so awesome that he had to act it out. His ancestors had been badass.