Little did she know how much the powers higher than herself keep watch, always keeping their fingers intertwined in fate and destiny. They alter it day by day, rewarding or punishing those as they saw fit. She's unaware she's been chosen until it happens, like some weird dream you can't wake from. It had been over a decade since she last walked the land as a mortal, but there was no denying the feeling of the earth beneath her feet, how warm and inviting it was compared to the permanent float of the undead.

The land before her is so much different than her homeland, but just as inviting, as if something was giving her a nudge to delve further into the land. It's only as she begins to examine the territory she's wandered into when a sharp ache makes itself known above her left brow. The pain brings the former deity back to reality, an instant form of grounding and a soft huff escapes her lips. Takara blinks rapidly, noticing how dark her left eyes vision was to the other, and she's completely oblivious to the gash above it, slowly yet surely allowing blood to drip into her left eye.

He smelled a lioness - by itself, irrelevant information - but a lioness by herself, not attached to the group? She was fodder. His sister had not established a pride yet but Vermier would not hesitate to bring in members. He grinned to himself as he paced over the sands. The empty space was so wonderful. There was nothing within it but feline drama. And he grinned further when he smelled blood. Copper tones. He was a shark above land.

This lioness was excellent fodder. Large. Good for serving Dieudonne or... good for serving Dieudonne. There was mixed blotch over her eye and he took it for both dried and recent blood. He dipped his head, smiling at her. He was happy to see her. Yes. "Oh no. Eez hurt?" no sympathy intended despite his smile. He kept his gaze fixed on her but his steps were now intent, trying to half circle her to get her back to the sea.

YOU MAY KISS MY RING BUT NOT TOUCH MY CROWN It takes her a few moments to register that a someone has approached, and that he was speaking directly to her. Large head swung to give her newest acquaintance a once over as best as possible with one fully functioning eye. Even in her weakened state, Takara is no fool. There was no light behind the man's eyes to accompany such a smile, but for the time being she does not consider herself to be in any danger. Eez hurt? What? Oh. When his question finally registers, she aims to swipe a tongue-dampened paw against her brow, pulling it back to admire the crimson ichor that lay attached to her pale fur. " Mm, it would appear so, wouldn't it? " Bicolored eyes focus back on the stranger before her, keen on gathering some form of information from him if she can. Her posture stiffens slightly, not interested in moving away from her current location quite yet. With a bit more information, the former deity would be willing to travel almost anywhere. " Before you try to corral me somewhere, could I at least get your name? Or a family name? What families are still here? " At this point, she gave up on trying to hide her identity a long time ago, and wouldn't be surprised to meet a few familiar faces as the land became more populated. Whatever families still roamed the new land would determine if any family of hers was here.

His prey does not smile back at him. She regarded him, not seeming to understand the question, and Vermier figured he cut such an imposing figure that she must be struggling to comprehend anything but the sheer power of cannibal before her. So at this assumption his smile warmed, though directly inward, proud and arrogant for himself.

Finally she shifted her weight, neglecting to keep all her paws grounded in the service of grooming herself. Fool. He remembered the lessons he needed to teach Oleander. When there was open space and nowhere to hide, someone who intended harm - such as himself - would pretend to be nice. Vermier wasn't good at pretending to be nice but he was a male so it didn't matter, all that mattered for him was low cunning and skill. He didn't take advantage yet, preferring to wait for a better position. Either physically or by convincing her to come along peacefully. He saw that she was not too wounded to be of use. "Eez eye not hurt. Good for see." He nodded. "Eef no eye? What use to pride?" Any lion who could not serve was useless and he did hope she agreed.

She wanted information from him as well. His smile stiffened. Eyes narrowed. He glared at her, eyed her up. "You gazelle. You for corral." He understood that fragment of word and that poor wordplay. "I am Vermier Dieudonne." He was native French but he strengthened the foreign tone of the vowels, let it drop from his mouth like miasma, like a satisfied sigh. "Other family? Why I care? Dieudonne all name lion need serve." It was not his role to care about what other families did. He only cared if they were weak or strong, if they served Dieudonne.

YOU MAY KISS MY RING BUT NOT TOUCH MY CROWN When he doesn't make an instant move to harm her, she takes the time to lob the same paw in as large a glob of saliva as she can manage, remedying the situation by slathering it across the wound until she can find something better to cake it with. For the time being, such primal herbalism would do. " Very good for seeing. " The blonde woman pauses, understanding that to him there was no purpose to keep someone without sight alive. A rather barbaric way to go about things, but it wasn't unheard of in some of the families she has seen. There were still uses to blind pridemates, it did not take sight to smell or to speak, and communing with the dead could be done with speech alone. The way his demeanor changes is extremely obvious, fake smile fading and eyes much more honed in on her like predator to prey. Vermier. The name is stashed away for memory purposes, an soft hmph of approval vocalized from her throat. " I've known many Dieudonne over the years... Takara. Lead the way then, Vermier. " She had nothing better to do, and knowing previous Dieudonne, she was sure there was a matriarch who probably had far more communication skills than the man before her. Only then do pale limbs shift, moving to follow the path he had tried to corral her in before.

If Takara did not wander ahead, more than ready and willing to chart her own course, she would not be Takara. Although he is fully aware of this, it does not mean that Jax does not sigh aloud when he eventually finds where his wife had wandered and the trouble she has attracted. He’s close enough to hear the little creep call Takra a gazelle and when that damned surname spewed from his lips, Jax huffed in irritation and prowled toward the pair.

"Takara, my dear," despite the words being near purred from between clenched fangs, there is nothing kind in his tone. The dark beast sweeps forward to Takara’s side, his lone eye narrowed on the Dieudonne bastard. He attempts to put the lioness behind his shoulder, facing the other male, as if to be a buffer between her and Vermier. He can smell her blood. If she was harmed by this fool -

"How kind of you to corral my wife." The smile on Jax's lips is anything but real - and neither is it meant to be seen as such. His brow quirks over his eye. "I believe she wished to meet your family. Lead on, then."

She is permitted to groom herself. Vermier would not stop her. She was in a liminal space, neither servant or prey. "Good sight, good serve for Dieudonne," he approved, taking her words in his French estimation to mean she was keen of sight, and taking from that the assumption that she intended to serve. Or she was at least willing to come along with him without the use of force. That would then direct her fate toward the underside of Ambrosine's paw. It was a softer glove that she wore.

His name comes with recognition, which he always craved, though mostly it was fear he yearned to see. Those who feared the Dieudonne were his to deal with - and those who wished to serve, alas, for his sister, yet he was not disappointed. Anything that strengthened his family would also strengthen him. He smiled, warming to her. Another potential servant for the Dieudonne. And the approval of his sister for fetching her. "Many Dieudonne. Many land. All great. Dieudonne here for serve Ambrosine, my seester." He half-blinked in approval and shifted his weight to head off. The news of a potential new member would draw his sister from boring political discussions... hopefully.

Before they could depart, he saw another whose body language immediately had him back on edge. Vermier lowered his weight via subtle shift of bent limbs, spreading out to secure his balance upon the sand. His tail lashed low in a concave arc. His ember eyes narrowed and fixed on the large form of the brute as he skulked into attendance. A threat. Vermier sidestepped to ensure he was on open ground. He was clearly possessive, stating prior ownership of the female. The female had seemed quite self-possessed. Maybe she had wanted to slip away from this male by joining the notoriously feminist Dieudonne? Until he could gauge her dis/comfort he would not lunge to drive the male off but the male had also threatened him directly, and this he would act upon. Presuming to give orders to Vermier? "Non," he growled, an affronted declaration. "What eez English word? 'Fuck off'?"