Surely it wasn’t this warm at all times of the year? Roseate’s brief respite recently had turned out short-lived as he made his way further into this new adventure. He supposed it was so, but as of right now he was truly struggling to find something to fill his belly. He suspected pride activity, for he had smelt overlaying, similar scents as he explored. Roseate had never understood why strangers banded together and suspected he would not be so easily welcomed. Adult males were rarely in his experience.

Snout to the ground, he follows the scent of decay with a hungry belly. It was an old kill, dragged deep into somewhere safe where it had then been stashed. The cries and flurry of bats above him was paid no heed. If they bothered him, he would just have an appetizer. Now, where was this carcass hidden?

for all of their success, the cache also needed to be cleaned.

desdemona lugs the carcass of a gemsbok by the neck, head lifted high as its remains dangle at her paws. its not so much heavy as it is bothersome, its hooves and spindly legs attempting to trip her up as she walks. for the most part, its been rendered of delicate flesh, but some clings to bone and she's content to toss the leftovers before they be forgotten for something fresher.

she takes a detour from the main exit of the hollows, hoping to make way for one of the farther exits of the caves and dispose of their trash. WELL ENOUGH FROM THE PRIDE NOT TO CAUSE THEM ANY HARM and to prevent bringing unwanted pests, scavengers and odor into the tunnels. the huntress drops the thing ungracefully when a bat whizzes blindly from over her ears and its when she turns to curse the thing that she notes the stranger a few feet ahead, nose to the ground like some curious puppy.

in the lowlight, its the pink of their fur that dazzles her first and then the stunted, spiked mane that gives her pause. desdemona forgets her manners and simply stares, a patchwork statue before the rogue with the carcass presented limply at her feet.

@Roseate

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Roseate honestly had no idea how close he was getting to claimed turf, but realistically even if he had, it wouldn't be much of a deterrent. He was hungry.

Being careful not to inhale cave dust, Roseate picks up the scent of something far fresher and breathes deep. Oh-ho, maybe he had stumbled across something indeed. His ears twist in the direction before he even bothers to lift his head. When he does he is suprised to see a feline form; a woman speckled with patches of ginger and charcoal. Very close to her, a fallen carcass. Not the same he had initially smelt, but definitely the fresher one.

"You going to ask me out for dinner?" he says, finally lifting his head. She was very obviously staring at him. "Or do you greet everyone like that?" Red eyes flick toward the gemsbok, then back at @Desdemona. Roseate was feeling lucky, today.

their eyes meet and desdemona pulls herself from her stupor at his words. it brings a small smile to her dark lips, noting the way that he briefly averts his attention to the discarded carcass. or do you greet everyone like that? only the cute ones, she quips quickly, casually, fangs peeking from her smile mischievously. there's some truth in it though, having been stricken by the soft tones of his fur and skyward mane. it couldn't have been the first time someone to stopped to look.

you're a cheap date. desdemona says matter-of-factly, the sidestepping around the gemsbok so that it's no longer draped over her toes and spares a glance down at it from the corner of her eye, wondering if he's truly interested in the thing. though she doesn't bother to guard the remains, attempting to catch a scent of his pelt. a rogue, maybe? perhaps, she should be warning him to keep away from their borders instead of socializing, but the man seems okay thus far, and if he were peeved by her lapse in courtesy, he doesn't show it.

@Roseate

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"You flatter me." Roseate says, smirking. Maybe he relied on his own looks too much, but she was hardly ugly. He'd never seen a pelt like hers. Splashes on ginger and black on pearly white - she was striking.

An exhale of amusement greets her comment. "I'll admit to that." he said, trying to be a little less obvious in his eyeing of the gemsbok. He was all for such a charming conversation but he hadn't eaten in what was going on three days and he was hungry. He hadn't lived four years as a rogue without prioritising number one. Which was him. It always was.

"You live around here?" he asks inquisitively, fixing his red gaze back upon @Desdemona. Perhaps she had been the one storing the food scents he'd followed in.

only the truth, my dear, desdemona replies, noting the twisted tilt of his lips into a smirk. certainly, not the first time that he's heard it before and the calico has no intention of lying to him. just don't let it get to your head. she adds shortly after, not wanting to balloon the stranger's ego too terribly. although, there may not be too much pride beneath the surface, considering his interest in her available scraps.

he asks if she lives near and desdemona offers a quick nod. my pride resides just over that way- she tips her chin vaguely behind her in the direction she came, certain that if he decided to venture any more, he'd scent the borders and the myriad of lions eventually. -here in the caves. don't plan on making trouble, do you? even if he did, the hollow had no need for her cargo and she knew what it was like to be a rogue - chasing after what prey she could tackle on her own and resorting to an empty stomach on more nights than one.

the thought of it softens her a bit and she doesn't want to insult him, but he did ask for dinner, after all. help yourself. she drags a paw outward, sweeping it in the direction of the nomad's to-be meal. desdemona was in charge of the hunts and stores anyways, she could do what she pleased with the rations.

@Roseate

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Roseate did love a compliment. Her warning draws forth an assuring dip of his rosy head. “Of course not.” he says. That sort of thing had gone to his head a long time ago. Way too long ago. He had little pride, no shame, and a helluva ego. Whatever got him to the next day, really.

He is legitimately interested in what @Desdemona has to say though. As she speaks of her pride, offering a not-so-specific tilt of her pale head, he listens with pricked ears. “Oh?” he murmurs, and hesitates just barely on her following inquiring. He could make no promises. Prides got under his skin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Roseate says. It was a little lie. Maybe not specifically this pride, but if the opportunity to cause trouble presented itself he would surely find it magnetic.

Something he’d said had been the right thing though. Because she stands aside, motioning toward the kill. Having only been expecting leftovers in at the most, the chance at fresh meat was irresistible and hunger flashed on his masked face. “I appreciate it.” he utters, and wastes no time in taking the opportunity given. He ate like the rogue he was, and his features were quickly bloodied.

Having filled his belly enough, he slows and glances up at the provider of the meal. “So what do they call you?” He was uncivilised, not impolite. Not, that wasn’t true. He definitely was. But at least he was trying.