It would appear that Leander has struck a chord with the young cub, the patched male observing as @Orson would near burst with excitement at the prospect of learning how to battle. It is surprising that his parents had not taught him how to do so though being a leader did take most of one's time. Leander would be happy to step in where required. "I suppose you could call me that," the Miroslav responds as he rises to stand on all fours, giving a firm shake of his large body to dislodge sand particles. "I prefer guardian -- I keep those I care for safe," and he would do so until his last breath. The male sizes up the child for a small pause, head tilting and his mismatched gaze scouring, "Show me how you would stand right before battle." How well would he instinctively pick up a defensive position?

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Poor Orson - though he was well old enough to have begun his training, things had recently fallen by the wayside. Especially with the challenge for his home and his sister's disappearance. Things had been very hush and he had not gotten much attention or explanation from his parents for any of it. Such treatment bred independence, however it had the unfortunate side effect of breeding inexperience as well. It had been by sheer dumb luck that Orson had bested his brother in their argumentative spar, perhaps aided by his bulk compared to the far slighter boy. Nevertheless, Orson was no fighter. Not yet.

A guardian... his dada was a guardian too. Leander rose, showing off his impressive size and his uniquely patched pelt and Orson's eyes widened in awe. But he didn't have long to stand there gawking; before he knew it, the lesson had already begun. Defensive pose... Right! Orson though for a moment and then lowered his front half, his rump rising into the air with a slight waggle, just as he would when preparing to pounce or be pounced on by one of his brothers. "Like this?" He asked, hopeful that he'd gotten it right, though feeling somewhat doubtful.

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He watches with an unreadable expression as @Orson demonstrates his best defensive pose. Well, it was a start. The Miroslav man draws closer and with a large forepaw attempts to push down on the rump of the cub to ensure that he evened out his pose. "Start neutral, soft bend in the knees, body relaxed," Leander begins, coming to stand alongside the boy to demonstrate. He evenly spreads his limbs and bends softly at the knees, keeping his body limber and prepared for any incoming attacks. "Then subtly tuck your chin, lower your head -- protect your throat," the gargantuan beast continues with his lesson, doing as he said so. He casts a sideways glance in Orson's direction, waiting for the cub to follow so that he may critique.

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Orson's form had been all wrong, but the older lion did not mock or chastise. Instead, he gently corrected him, a large paw pressing down on Orson's rump to lower it into place. The boy allowed the guidance, paying close attention and making adjustments to his stance. It was a bit awkward, but he did as he was told and gradually his body assumed a more natural and ready posture. His knees were bent, his body poised but relaxed and far more ready to move in any direction. Orson felt the change, it felt right and when he glanced sideways at @Leander, who was demonstrating himself, it seemed right.

Orson did as he did, lowering his head and tucking his chin. He felt a strange sensation overcome him. Training with the mighty warrior, he felt tough and confident. He twitched his lips, allowing the tips of his upper canines to poke out. "Like this?" He asked, giving a slight bounce through all of his legs and wiggling his toes into the sand, feeling his somewhat tenuous grip upon the shifty earth beneath them.

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"You have got it," Leander encourages with a nod of his head as he watches @Orson take on his advice, a most pleasing example of a child wishing to learn. For someone who didn't fancy themselves great with children, Leander found this type of instructing came naturally to him. He could get used to being a mentor or a teacher and perhaps he wasn't so bad with children after all. "Now, demonstrate your first attack," the Miroslav instructs the Scilla Lagoon Prince, beckoning him to come for him with a motion of his head. "You always want to attack first -- it gives you the upper hand from the very start," he explains, knowing that one had to set themselves up for success. "You can dictate the pace, the ferocity and the positioning," the Miroslav beast continues, hoping that Orson would learn from this experience.

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OOC: SO Sorry for the wait! I totally missed this post!

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Orson felt his heart skip a beat with excitement at the lion's next instruction. This was the moment he'd been waiting for! But he hesitated, unsure what to do next. He wanted to impress the warrior and avoid embarrassing himself but he was suddenly keenly aware of his utter lack of experience. But not wanting his doubts to show through, Orson tried to assess the best course of action. @Leander was much, much bigger than him. It wouldn't be like the time he'd been able to overpower Lyle through sheer brute force. Leander also possessed a thick mane that protected most of his neck and chest. He decided to aim for one of his forelimbs instead, lurching his body forward and attempting to wrap his paws around the upper part of Leander's leg. He would come at him with jaws agape, aiming a bite to his armpit area of he could reach. His claws and teeth would remained measured, however, with the unwritten rule that no blood was to be drawn, which a cub learned through wrestling with his siblings.

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Leander watches and assesses @Orson carefully, seeing things click in his head as he eyes him up as if he were a piece of meat. Ears flicker as the Miroslav braces himself, waiting for the imminent attack to his forelimb. Little teeth and pinpricks sink into his skin as the patched male allows the growing child to have his way. After a moment, he issues a simple, "Enough." He could have continued but figured that giving feedback on his first move might be more useful. "You want to keep a minimum of three paws on the ground at all times. Any less and you will be too easy to knock over off your feet," he explains, reaching forward with a forelimb and tapping Orson on his own front limb to demonstrate. "The armpit is an excellent spot to attack. As is the belly and the face," the Miroslav continues with a nod of his bulky head, approving of Orson's choice. "I want you to practice and then meet me in a few months time for another lesson," he concludes, strangely having enjoyed himself giving a lesson.

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Orson would obediently halt his practice attacks at @Leander's words, pulling back and falling to his haunches as the male launched into another series of instructions. Blue eyes were wide with wonder and awe, nodding eagerly and trying to remember everything he was being told. He would practice! He would become a warrior and he would return to train some more! At this rate, Orson was going to become the biggest and strongest lion in all of the land, and if he could be half as cool as this fiery maned man... well, then he'd simply have it made!

"Yes, sir." Orson said. The sass and attitude that he'd demonstrated before this training session had evaporated, replaced by admiration and respect for the man. He sensed that this lesson had come to a close and that it was time for him to be off. But before he left, he realized that he'd forgotten one vital thing. "Wait a minute, mister..." He said. "What's your name?"

He couldn't exactly have a mentor teaching him how to fight if he didn't even know his name!

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Perhaps he wouldn't make a bad father after all. Soft smile curls up a corner of his lips as @Orson appears readied to practice and improve his skills. As the two prepare to part ways, the child is intuitive enough to ask for his name. "Leander Miroslav," the patched male introduces himself without pause, "who are you?" He would be interested to follow the journey of this young boy, eager to see where he might end up in the future. Though not his own skin and blood, he had vested interest in the child who he saw much promise in. Only time would tell. He readies himself for departure, though not without hearing Orson's introduction.

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Wow. Even the man’s name was cool. Orson couldn’t believe his luck. He thought for a moment about how jealous his brothers would be but was reminded that Lyle would probably have something negative to say and that Colsun likely wouldn’t care at all. It didn’t matter. This was Orson’s path and he wanted to learn and grow strong and he felt that this was the way to do it. He wouldn’t soon forget the name or the striking lion with the mane of fire. “I’m Orson Valentine.” He replied, not knowing that his mother and @Leander knew each other, though if he had been more educated in pride politics he might have guessed.

“Thanks, mister Leander Miroslav. I’ll be ready for next time!” with those words Orson would take his leave with a confident new spring in his step.

[exit]

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