Fatigued from her recent hunt, Basira - dusted with debris and a thin layer of sweat, no thanks to the tricky pursuit of the now deceased and fully consumed fawn - would flop down into the long grass, having left the skeleton several hundred yards behind her. Jaws parted, pink tongue lolling between pearly canines as she studied the path ahead. There seemed to be more track to follow to higher land, if she wished to, but why would she? Decent views were all well and good, but the wraith had no desire to take another step. And so, licking the remnants of blood from her already crimson muzzle, the lioness would let her attention idle over the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, but with the dry weather they'd experienced of late Basira saw no need to look for shelter. Not yet, anyway.

@Alaric

he wandered rather aimlessly, tracking the scent of a prey that was growing more stale with each passing moment. there was no reason for it, if only that he was curious and seeking somethng to pass the time. the scent of blood that mingled with the trail set him on edge, but the one of the female rogue relaxed him somewhat. not a pride lion, then, and thus unlikely to spring an ambush.

the ecrosian monarch found the remains first, slinking forward until his gaze rested upon the female. if there was one thing he had learned it was that amaryllis was a bountiful place, not only in food but in the variety of females that lingered here.

donning his usual charming smirk he approaching, jaws parted to take in the copper tang of the air. "satisfied?" a rumbling word, a faint tip of his head, as the king came to stand just before the other.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

Alas, the peace had not been destined to last.

The approach of another prompted Basira to tear her attention away from the view and towards the path leading upward from lower ground. It is a male, and one that smells of a pride, though given her very limited knowledge on the inner workings of Amaryllis she knows nothing beyond that. Except that he is a beast in his prime; older than Sahir, and one that walks with the gravitas of someone confident in themselves. As he drew close enough to question her, the lioness would tilt her head subtly to the side. Lips curled into the smallest of smirks. "In many ways, yes." She straightened up a little, then, as she sought to become a little less relaxed in the presence of @Alaric. She wanted to be able to spring up and flee with ease if it came down to it, as heavens knew she would not be able to fend the brute off if he chose to become violent.

For now, though, all seemed innocent enough. "A shame there is none left for you though, stranger - I trust you are not hungry?"

He leans easily in to the game, the chase, imagining her as his prey. There is the lingering scent of others on her coat, though, and he imagines that this will not evolve past the wordplay that he so enjoys. Shame, that.

Then again, he had been surprised before...

"Shame, then, that it is not all ways." Alaric might have thrown all caution to the wind and pressed his luck, then, but he restrains himself. It has been some time since he has been able to lobby flirtations back and forth, and he cannot deny the appeal.

I trust you are not hungry. Ah and she practically spoon feeds him his next line -- "not for fawn, no." He wonders if she will run, if she will be intimidating by the game, and he hopes that she does not.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

She is not naive. She knows the gaze of a lusty male when she sees it, and - alas - she has no back-up here; not today, anyway. But she is a wordsmith above all else, and if there is one thing she knows how to do it is to de-escalate - or escalate, should she wish - situations with a smooth tongue alone. So in the face of the hungry brute she would simply smile demurely, flicking her tail idly beside her as she watched @Alaric carefully. "Not all ways, no," she would agree, "not yet. But that will change." She did not have to give any information to this man, but perhaps giving him just enough might distract him long enough for him to think with his head and not with his loins. The woman sniffed, then, as her attention trailed away from the King's facade and over to a spot just behind his shoulder. "Funny - you are just like my husband. An insatiable appetite." She fixed him with an unwavering stare.

Alaric was sharp minded when he was not clouded by desires, and he did not shy from picking up the trail she left for him to follow. "Oh, and how do you intend to change that?" Any inkling of hope he had for more faded as quickly as it had come, and he reclines almost casually in front of her, now.

my husband..

and that is enough for all desire to evaporate -- Alaric was not a fool. She is no longer one for him to chase and pursue, but still he plays the game and enjoys the lobby of words. "Any man would be starved in your company I am sure," he complimented her while at the same time making it clear he would not press his intentions, "your husband must be a smart man."

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

As expected, he would bite; with an idle smile Basira would dip her head subtly, the smile not yet fading from her features, especially now that any threat of being forced to do something against her will had seemingly subsided. For now. "Alas, that is only for my inner circle to know." She paused, only momentarily, so that she may process the compliment that followed and subsequently offer an official introduction to the man. "You are too kind, sir - and correct at that. My husband is a very intelligent man." Gifted, too, but again... she would not divulge. Not at this time. "I am Basira. Might I know your name?" Hopefully she had not gotten too bored of her, now that she had swiftly removed herself from the table.

disappointment washes over him, brief but starkly cold, and he lifts his chin with a huff of air. there is no other sign of it (his mask is carefully crafted and secure) and he regards her with a level sort of calm. "of course," he mused, "i shall have to listen for your story in the days to come, then." amaryllis had a way of making things known, and when she gives him a name he files it away for safekeeping.

"Alaric," he answered, because why bother to hide? There was no reason for him to keep the truth from her, especially when it would be easy enough to unearth it. Alaric is a King and thus his life is decidedly more public than most.

"You are new here, then?" Shame she had come in so attached.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

Basira had no sympathy for blue balls. She barely had sympathy for her husband's - not that her appetite for lust and to please gave much opportunity for such an affliction - let alone a stranger. Still, @Alaric does not sulk, and that would certainly serve to redeem him in the eyes of the Najma wraith. "Something tells me you already have a story, Alaric," Basira pressed subtly, cocking her head to one side with an intrigued expression. "I am new - we have yet to learn much about any of the prides. What is yours like?" She blinked. "Unless, of course, you are secretive about such things." She thought back to Gostir and the meeting at the shoreline; he had been frustratingly tight-lipped, so she hoped dearly that Alaric would not be as insufferable.

"Don't we all?" The stories were many and varied, and he had little doubt that hers was as interesting as his own. Or perhaps not, and she was merely a quiet little wife along on the grand adventure of her husband.

He watched her closely, intrigued but also guarded. The Mire had its secrets, as did all places, but there was no harm in sharing some things. "It is muddy," a sly grin, then, knowing full well it is not the information she wanted. "If you can see past the muck, though, you can see its value." It had not been his first choice of a home, but he had grown fond of the swamp that he lived in.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus