The wheaty lioness walked through the gardens that at some point used to be Tullia's main playing ground as a child, playing and running through the pretty flowers it always had, feeling the sun on her pelt. And she was glad these place, in particular, hasn't been claimed as the rest of the places she could now only contemplate from afar. Although this was Maua's will, Maua's desire to bring in new blood to the lands she created, she couldn't still feel pleased with how fast this was happening. How fast the land that belonged to them for generations was now under the claws of lions who she guessed didnt even know the creator of those territories they now owned. Sighing with annoyance the Valour sister made her way to the fields looking for a place to lay down and just have the peace to enjoy. The skies were clear but the little clouds that flew with the wind were slowly getting more and more common. Would it rain? Well, Tullia didnt mind as she was one with what Maua created long ago. She sat there taking a deep breath to allow the flower's fragrance to flood her lungs.

his collection grows. two down, three to go. soon, skarde will have his harem rivaling any casimir trophy room. the dark-maned brute stalks down the most beautiful are of amaryllis; he must admit the gardens of vermeda brooks rival any territory worthy of claiming, even untouched by other prides. if only this were mine, he muses, hostile frustration growing like icy claws, driving deep in his abdomen. as the clearing grows greener and greener, filling and flourishing with the beautiful colors of amaryllis' vivid plantlife.

he's left metzli and avaneira behind, wherever they may be resting, though he expects they'll be good and obedient, and stay exactly where he demanded. nevertheless, if he can even catch a large rabbit, it might hold both of them over while he figures out their next move. skarde stops in his tracks as the outline of a pride lioness peeks out between two bushels of tall grass. can he see an ear flick. skarde's convinced, and the scent of her purity permeates every drive to conquer and breed.

excuse me, my lady, the scabbed man chuffs, limping up to her. he's met one cat once: the queen, many days ago after rightfully claiming the girls as his. skarde hides the sneer twitching along his marred lips, gray eyes innocent enough. i am a weary traveler. do you have directions to the nearest rabbit burrow? my new brides are too famished to hunt, so i am tasked with the job instead.

@Tullia

Tullia closed her silver eyes for a moment, wanting to feel the peace, the peace crawl through her lungs, through her thoughts. These places always managed to get such feelings to the native lioness, who always had the right time to thank the one who not only created herself but all the lands, all the rivers, mountains and oceans. There was nothing here that didn't have the creator's touch. All was perfect, pretty and Tullia felt thankful of being part of it. The birds sang around her, it was just a place to enjoy one's life out of the typical pride duties even if she didn't have one in specific. Then her ears twisted as the sound of heavy paws that approached her way. Turning a male stood there near her. An outsider it seemed. And the question he gave her took her a bit by surprise but as composed as she could be she didn't let the surprise to appear in her silver eyes. "Greetings sir, and answering your inquiry, in these fields you can find those north from where you stand." If that was all he wanted she looked at him in silence waiting to see if he would leave or not. @Skarde

but skarde does not leave. in fact, he doesn't even turn away from her. dull, gray eyes bear sternly into the femme's, ears flicked backwards as the scars on his face protrude in gorey detail. does he take her? does he create a problem for himself with this pride? or does he exploit what he can from an innocent, yet ignorant, girl? finally, he manages a smile, shoulders relaxing as he sits back on his haunches. out of respect, he makes no moves towards her, though his posture is lazy and casual.

i am much too old to hunt, he admits, which is only a half-truth. in my younger years perhaps i was more spry and agile, but my age is beginning to show in my gait and in my bones. arthritis strikes all of us, and though skarde suffers minor changes to his joints, it is not as severe a picture as he paints. perhaps you have a spare rabbit or two for this old man? my good women could use it. they are carrying child; i want to do what's right by them. tale after tale, lie after lie. does it ever stop with skarde? at this point, the stories and the fables have merged into one, cohesive worldview that he cannot part with.

@Tullia