the ocean breeze feels granular on his pelt. skarde shakes out his mane, eyes fixated on the waves crashing against the rocks below, as what manages to creep over the border washes over small indentations and holes in the volcanic stone. as skarde peers down between his large paws, he can see the pustules of yellow and green as sea cucumbers squelch salt water from the pores in their bodies. the water ripples in response. skarde doesn't bother to taste, knowing well enough it won't quench his thirst, only make him more dehydrated.

he scoops a paw into the murky water, clawing out a sea urchin. its spiny body prickles his paw pads, but they're thick with callouses from years in the snow, and now the dry wasteland of amaryllis' deserts. skarde chuckles to himself: not even a measly urchin can stop him. soon, he will be unbeatable, and every land in sight will be is. a man can dream, after all. his quest for lionesses is on pause, as he crushes the thorned crustacean and breaks it in half. skarde leans down, lapping up the soft and tender inner body. such vicious thorns are required to protect this vulnerable creature, he thinks. urchins and lions are not unalike in this way.

@Viné

Viné wanders slowly though the land. As the days tick by more and more areas ring out with the claims of males. The liar is not bothered, but there is also a sense from within that time is running short. A pride the ultimate prize for a male; proof of their strength and determination. In a passed life it was everything that had been denied to Jezebella. Females could not rule, that was law in the Casimir. The body she'd claimed was not female, though her mind still lingered there, shifting between the two at times. This, was another problem, for while her body was distinctly male, her mind did not look at the opposite sex with desire. Not that she ever felt it strongly, but it was clearer now where her preference lay

After all, scars were sexy.

Viné's lip twitched in annoyance at the response that washed through at the sight of him. A memory of a female vaguely crossed across her mind, in the pit. Viné had passed it as her own distaste of females with manes, something that had bled over from her past life (a can of worms not worth opening). There was a fear that this would hinder her goals; a strong line, a strong pride. The thought was a bitter taste. She would not be undermined by her own self, she refused.

This, of course, was all hidden below a calm mask as the deep red male stepped closer watching the curiousness of a lion eating an urchin. There was a vague memory of a mother teaching her son how to do the same, or perhaps the son had the misfortune of stepping on one. It was grainy, having been given to another soul and stored away by a different mind. It was not her memory to recall and as soon as she touched it the bubble popped and it vanished. "The spines can get between your toes," The deeply male voice decided to warn, "They are hard to remove then."

@Skarde

""

don’t get caught, i’m dangerous

it’s always been like that.

code by corvus

the pain in his paw distracts him from nearly everything else. one by one, the thick thorns are placed in a messy pile in front of his paws, pads dotted with blood. he scowls a bit at himself, frustrated everything is suddenly so very challenging for him. humiliated, bruised and beaten, skarde has not only scarred himself but all his attempts at securing some territory for himself. he purses his lips in frustration, watching the creatures in the pools swim and spin idly. these crevices were like watery cages for the fish and other invertebrates who called them home, and they had no idea they remained trapped for the eternity of their lives.

the voice causes skarde to turn, lips curled in a threatening snarl. does he need to defend his pride again? his honor? one lioness down, one to go. he must continue his attempts at collecting his girls. the gigantic male stands before him, mane thick and dark with dominance and age. he looks unfamiliar, not like the wild lions of unclaimed lands. is he a pride cat? there's no scent. i did it myself, skarde mutters, gazing in restricted fascination with the man accompanying him beside the pool. i did it myself. his voice is far away, almost breaking, as he gives himself the space to mourn.

@Viné

The spines where plucked carefully and place to one side, Vine watched with slight confusion at the ritualistic behavior. She could not tell weather the beast before her had already been plucked by the ocean creature, but it seemed so. Viné's eyes narrowed slightly once the beast before her spoke. Cuckling one moment and then muttering strangely the next. Ah, pretty on the outside, dumb as rocks on the inside. Or perhaps it was the venom of the urchin working quickly.

Either way, the original attraction Vine had felt from his former self for the male faded in an instant and he was thankful for that. Split eyes blinked slowly, trying to puzzle out the meaning of those strangely repeated words. It didn't sound to his ears like the male was commenting on his warning. There was something deeper, perhaps, being spoken about that Viné was not privy too. The question, of course, was did he care to be? Another slow blink of thought. "Mm. Then I am too late." He said simply, and would have said more, but he found himself curious as to what the scared male might say in response. If their conversations would match this time or not.

Curiosity being the only thing that kept him there, it was hard to say how long Viné would linger before the curiosity lost it's luster.

@Skarde

""

don’t get caught, i’m dangerous

it’s always been like that.

code by corvus

what did the stranger mean by this? he narrows his eyes, skeptical of the man's intent. friend or foe? at the moment, nothing is clear. despite the throbbing pain in his paw, skarde manages to stand on all four feet, tail thrashing as a warning this traveler should treat gently lest he enrage skarde enough. the man suffers with scars but... scars are sexy, and he's willing to add more to his collection.

in his time, skarde has met many a homosexual lion. i mean, what else does one call these buffoons? honestly, skarde doesn't have a judgment one way or another. if this big male fancies him, all the better. so you are here... why? asks the brown barbarian, leering at the dark red and black beast with narrow, iron-clouded eyes. pupils mere specks against a sea of stormy gray. his expression lends itself only to bitterness and anger, despite more wrapping around the surface of his heart. he keeps most things inside.

if you have nothing to say to me, get lost. there's a loud growl of threat, skarde pulling his lips back and exposing large, parchment-colored fangs. i'm in no mood to make friends. such a charming brute, is he not? oh, skarde makes enemies before he finds companions, and when he wishes, perhaps he's even nice.

@Viné

Curiosity had kept Viné standing close enough to speak to the scared male. Curiosity that was quickly squashed as the Casimir's calm demeanor was met with a thrashing tail. Yes, clearly rocks. Vin#&233; was beginning to lose interest. A faint snort of indignation passed though his nose at the threat. Having not moved from his spot several feet away, it was hard to take the motion as anything but a joke when the younger male had plenty of time to be the aggressor while the other had been snacking on the urchin.

The question solidified Viné's opinion of the scared male, his expression remained slightly bored. "Have you not been listening? I saw a lion who made a poor choice in a snack and came to warn you." He replied the unamusement clear in his voice. "I had more advice to give now that you've already been stabbed, but I see it is unwanted. I will leave now." This was a waste of time. With a huff, the deep red lion turned to leave, walking away at an angle to the scared male to keep half an eye on him for as long as needed. You know, just in case. He didn't seem to be in his right mind to the Casimir.

""

don’t get caught, i’m dangerous

it’s always been like that.

code by corvus