Genial growls rumbled from the yearlings throat as she lay with her belly pressed against the pale dirt, surrounded on all sides by scattered remains and full skeletons, with her mitts clutched around the yellowed femur of a long-dead giraffe. She gnawed on one side of the ridiculously elongated bone, and the lioness basked in the childlike nostalgia the antic inspired in her. It was as though she was a cub again, playing with the trinkets her and Tyne could find around the den beneath the watchful eyes of their parents. Those times had been simpler, but more complete somehow, and the orphan could not help but long for them now. Lost as she was in her young daydreams; the yearling did not notice when another had joined her. Foreigners were everywhere these days, and seemed to come in all shapes and sizes, touting about drama and intrigue that the Donnelly found irresistible. But this intruder was no foreigner, it was as native to this land as she, and only a sudden and distinct hiss drew the yearlings blue-purple eyes to its coiled shape, draped across a ribcage not two paces from where she lay. Alarm shivered through the girl, erasing any semblance of blissful happiness she held moments before, and her expression grew tight with fear as she stared at the reptile. It hissed again, looping its long dark figure through the ribs, staring directly at her with flicking tongue and beady eyes. It was only a warning, perhaps, but the Donnelly was frozen with fear and indecision- momentarily unwilling to tempt its bite by moving. @Swan

OOC: I rolled it. It wasn't good. Ah, the Badlands. The perfect hangout for all the juvenile delinquents. Are you really waging a war against your parents unless you’re hanging out in a graveyard for giant, gassy grass-eaters? The dark, witchy woman picked her way through the stained ivory and dusty scavenger feathers. Not reveling in the decay like the cliché you’d expect her to be. But not wide-eyed and entranced at the danger either. Simply…not caring. It took way more than dead elephants to tickle her fancy. Though it seemed the fates had other things in store for her today. Thrusting her right into the crossroads. Hero or bystander? Or, even worse, hero or tragic victim? She knew better than trying to be something she wasn’t. Knew better than try and fit a mold she had outgrown the very moment she was born. Well, maybe not exactly that very moment. After all, it’s not like she was a very outstanding cub. She just mewled and sucked her toes for most of her early months. Then again, she was probably REALLY adorable. Ángeles’s ears stood erect and alert on her heavy crown. Her body completely stopped in the middle of a gliding movement, so she looked more statue than feline. And yet her chest still rose…still fell. Not for long? Her eyes swept from the snake to the girl. Snake. Girl. Snake. Girl. Oh, what a terrible dilemma. Fuck it. It’s not like she needed all her limbs, right? She darted over, reckless courage boiling in her belly, and attempted to swipe a paw and YEET that little fanged sucker all the way to Timbuctoo. But just at the moment when victory was wet on her lips, in a sweet liquor of promise, the creature turned and leapt towards her foreleg. Ángeles swore loudly, the snake arching in the air like a ribbon, like she was just a pretty girl dancing with ribbons, as she lifted her leg and swung it madly in the air like a flag. Does anybody want to sing a patriotic anthem? @Tuathla "Speech" Sentir que resucito si me tocas

There was a bone-chilling moment when the mahogany woman locked eyes with the dark serpent, soft indigo with gleaming yellow, and time seemed to freeze. She didn’t breathe, didn’t move, her heart didn’t beat; until her rescue came in the form of a stranger, a foreign heroine swooping in and stealing the serpents focus. Eye contact between cat and snake was broken and Tuathla was yanked from her reverie, flying backwards onto all fours with a fluid agility she never would’ve thought herself capable of- but adrenaline was a handy medicine. The serpent either leapt from its perch or was swatted into motion- that part the Donnelly hadn’t witnessed clearly- but she did observe as is slithered seemingly through the air towards the earthen-haired heroine, like some flying demon conjured from hell. Her own plush fur bristled generously in inherent disgust for the scene, but the heroine handled her own by stopping it before its fangs could reach her flesh. “Throw it! Get rid of it!” The yearling cried to her with an earnest and pleading disgust, eyes wide and pupils focused on the snake that writhed in the others grasp. Unfortunately, this was the only anthem Tuathla could manage for the other.

It is often said that heroes are made rather than born. And here, under the turbid sky which blanketed a weak, sickly sun, such a truth would be tested. After all, Ángeles was a woman who reveled in the moment. Never having taken the time to define herself, her life a mere set of steppingstones she crossed in whichever way she please. And her heart always so close to bursting, every fear and happiness felt like a hardcore drug. There had been no time in Ángeles’s life for heroes. Nor villains. Simply ordinary people passing by, neither upstanding citizens nor denizens of hell. But here she was, living on the edge of her seat. Fear trickled down her throat, intermingled with the hot buzzing ecstasy in her stomach. It was slow-motion and fast-forward all at the same time. Throw it! Get rid of it! Her dilated pupils fixated on that dark speckled face. “I am trying it!” Her warbled common tongue fell from her lips, all while her foreleg waved madly through the air like a sort of twisted war banner. It was then that she fell, unbalanced by the rapid nature of her movements, onto her left side. The scaled devil must’ve sense something was amiss, for it released Ángeles shortly after she began to keel over. Sadly, for the snake’s family at least, it was unable to escape before the lioness’s shoulder cracked its finely built skull. A grimace was splashed like paint onto the woman’s ruddy face. Half from the pain rapidly scaling up her arm, and half from the awful crunching noise. She squinted, as if staring into the sun or the divine glow of gods. Her lips parted, curled slightly over her glinting teeth. “Is it dead?” @Tuathla "Speech" Sentir que resucito si me tocas

The earthen-haired heroine’s answer did very little to assuage the yearling’s inherent revulsion for the situation and desire for it to be over quickly- her own blue-purple eyes were glued to the serpentine banner the other waved from her forelimb. Tua’s silken fur stood on end and her forelimbs were splayed gracelessly, but the Donnelly was only an audience in this spectacle, although no one could accuse her of being inattentive. The lioness watched as the scales began to shift, and her heroine lost her balance. The yearling made a motion to dart forward, her paws working to close the distance between them, but by the time the lioness met the earth it was over and Tuathla pulled up a few paces from her. An abstract thought noted that the grotesque noise of crunching bones was an appropriate way to conclude the perfectly distasteful scene, and as the lioness peered up at Tuathla with a question about the serpents demise, the yearling grimaced. “Bright spirits I hope so,” She replied earnestly, her young soprano heavily inflected with disgust. Indigo hues shifted over the supine woman, a sudden concern blossoming amidst the admiration. “You okay?” She asked the heroine, and would step another pace closer, wanting to help if possible. @Ángeles

OOC: M for language! Ah. Sisterhood! Is there anything more beautiful than the sight of two females bonding against a common enemy? Even if that bonding consists of mostly…well, screaming and flailing. But hey, why hide behind the mask of etiquette when you can connect with someone through the most primal sentiment: What. The fuck. It was over quickly enough, could’ve been much worse. Though Ángeles probably wasn’t going to think that anymore an hour or so later, when the adrenaline began to ebb like waves away from her serpentine body and the pain made her call out to every spirit and pantheon available. With the girl’s support, Ángeles nodded, very matter-of-factly for someone who’s just been bitten by a snake. And then hulk-smashed said snake. She very gingerly began to peel herself off the reptile, now nothing more than a carcass among the boneyard’s other treasures. There was a bit of blood, to say the least, but she wasn’t quite sure whether it was the snake’s or hers. Though a quick check with the sniffer cleared that up pretty efficiently. It was mostly hers. Crap. I guess our little Ángeles is finally joining the angels. Or the devil. She really should’ve helped out more grandmas. “I’m good, good,” she repeats, eyeing the small tears in her shoulder. Blood had welled up in the wounds, and some had been smeared onto her flesh from her smack-down. “Is it venomous? Do I have to suck the venom?” How badly hurt do you have to be for the healers to give you some of their hard-hitting stuff, huh? @Tuathla "Speech" Sentir que resucito si me tocas

The yearlings freckled expression could not help but cringe as she watched the lioness peel herself from the earth, or specifically, the carcass of the reptilian villain she had smashed. Her lips curled and eyes wrinkled, and she would shift her weight onto her hind limbs preparing to step back to allow her heroine some room before she noticed the blood. There was a lot of it, and Tua glanced to the face of the lioness to gauge her reaction. Was she hurt? Annoyed? As though by magic, the heroine answered her unspoken question, although her words left a little room for doubt. “Oh um,” The yearling’s attention darted back to the broken body of the serpent, critical and examining despite a renewed sense of disgust and reluctance. Tua would edge around the lioness and sniff the reptile gingerly before leaning back again. “I don’t think so? Did it bite you?” She replied with indecision lacing her young soprano, and her gaze shifted between the lioness and her injury with concern. The Donnelly was no healer and the wound looked unhappy to say the least. @Ángeles

OOC: Oops, sorry I forgot to code the speech in my previous post! “Yes. It…um,” Ángeles waved her paw as if to sweep away the dust that sat on that little box of common tongue nestled in the back of her brain, “gripped me, with its fangs.” All in all, it was a detached retelling. As detached as she could manage with her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. But hey, isn’t that what religion is for? To make the unknown a little more palatable. You heard it right here first folks, religion is a sauce. The woman folded her wounded forearm against her body, as if that would stop the warm, pulsating sensation that traveled through it. Toes to elbow. You know, if lions had elbows. Or is it the knee? There was that all too familiar flicker in the girl’s eye, that good ol’ worry-wart expression. Even back in the day she’d been reckless, impulsive…giving her two very normal parents a heart attack nearly every time she stepped out of the house. “I feel good, very good!” Ángeles blinked dreamily, feeling the adrenaline spread like ink in her blood. Black and white. Red and blue. “Oh, you have a twin, how nice.” Ángeles swayed dramatically, before straightening up with a low chuckle. “I kid, I kid!” @Tuathla "Speech" Sentir que resucito si me tocas

Oh, she had been bitten. Tuathla’s eyes widened somewhat and she glanced again to the fallen serpent, as though its crushed body would simply come to life and tell her if whether it was a venomous or nonvenomous species. The Donnelly found herself wishing desperately that her sister were here—certainly Tyne would be able to identify the reptile and ease their minds (or not). She sucked her lips against her teeth, her eyes darting back to the woman as she noticed the other flexing the wounded leg. She lifted a paw, reaching out as though to stop her but not quite making contact. “Maybe don’t move it a lot?” It was a half-suggestion half-request and made with a keen soprano while accompanied by beseeching blue-purple eyes; she would feel horrible if this lady went belly up saving her skin from an unusually aggressive serpent.

Alas, it seemed her prayer would not be answered when the stranger spoke again and swayed in place, her voice turning dreamy and causing Tuathla to lower her outstretched paw. She eyed the other woman with a mixture of perplexity and apprehension as a realization sprouted in the forefront of her thoughts—is that what venom was actually like? It didn’t seem so bad, if you ignore the blood of course, it seemed just like getting high. Only after a few moments did it become apparent that the stranger was pulling her strings, and only because she said as much. Feeling duped but otherwise pleased that the woman had the wits about her to pull the stunt, she snorted and offered the other a dry half-smile. “Oh, ha-ha very funny.” She shook her head, and gestured to the wound, trying to distract from the role she had played as marionette. “You might wanna wrap that up or something though. Don’t want it to get infected.” She shrugged then, making an effort to distill the earlier fervor of her concern.

@Ángeles

It was kinda cute, actually. The way she seemed so…worried about her. Ángeles had always thought that she lived amongst other lions, but not quite with them. Whether they were customers or some nosy relative, or simply a stranger in passing, she’d always felt this sort of barrier between her and them. They’d always think of her as too intense, too emotional, too bent on the idea that things had to somehow matter. Too…anything, really. She came from a place where things were rigid, roles were set in stone and everyone was usually at least outwardly polite but unfeeling. So, when she’d come here, to this strange new land were people’s tongues were shaped differently than hers, moved differently than hers…why had she thought they’d be the same? That they’d hold emotions with the same contempt? Perhaps, she was simply a pessimist. Perhaps she had resigned herself to be a misfit, constantly enforcing her differences in order to patch up the hurt. Even those who embrace chaos have hurt within them. At the other woman’s request, Ángeles smiled deviously. She pawed at the air in quick swoop of rebellion before obeying the dark lady’s order and gingerly setting her foot on the ground. Apparently, Ángeles had the humor of a three-month-old child. Her companion on the other hand was gracious when it came to her little playacting. Though it was quickly back to business again, and Ángeles sighed, resting heavily on her haunches in order to alleviate the weight on her front paws. “I’m not doctor, I don’t know how,” the ruddy woman pouted. “I can lick instead,” she offered and proceeded to lap at the wound with a fervor that was probably NOT recommended for recently acquired snake bites. After a couple, HEAVY-HANDED (or heavy tongued?) licks, Ángeles put down her paw again. Testing it as if it were brand new. The shock was slowly peeling away, and the pain would come soon enough. But for now, all was well. “There, good as new!” @Tuathla "Speech" Sentir que resucito si me tocas