This was different. The land here was not like the rest. It was not picturesque, perfect. The smoke hung heavy in the air. A haze that made it hard to see and irritated the eyes and lungs just so. There was still a heat the the ground, and do the burnt charcoal of once verbose tree trunks. As Viné passed by he thought he could hear the crackle of fire somewhere within the stumps. It had not been painstakingly sculpted by a loving paw, hadn't been made with every lion's need in mind.

Or maybe it had.

This land truly was making him paranoid. Even the sight of imperfection was making him look too hard into it, analyzing it until he circled back on to the impossible. Viné refused to believe. It was beyond him, having been there and returned. He had seen the empty throne. ;; "speak"

It had been months since he had met what sorry excuse for family at the edge of the new world as he knew it. It was funny how high and mighty he had been and now had fallen so brutally from grace. While he is better than he had been, he is by no means a hundred percent. Cuts marred his pelt, half healed or marked by thin scars. Bruising blossomed along his ribs, right hind, and tail an outward sign of the deeper damage beneath. Several cracked ribs, a cracked femur, and a broken tail all ached dully. He couldn't even fake health; he could not put enough of his weight upon the limb. It left him irritable in more ways than one. Fallen gargoyle, bruised and battered but still holding on.

The demon had been growing more restless by the day, trapped in the wee cave with little to do. Sure, he had figured out a way to participate in his favourite thing, but, even that had only taken the edge off the boring sameness. So while he is by no means at a hundred percent(and likely would not be for a long while) he had to move. He had to leave the confines of his sick den and stride forth. He didn't head to his kingdom; it had likely fallen in his absence. Something he was oh so bitter about and did not wish to deal with that mess. No, that would be a project for when he was well.

So he had slunk, a wraith in the lands that once had been his, avoiding them like a plague. Gliding along and noting that the mist had parted further, revealing new places to lurk. To haunt. He skimmed to the north of the Lagoon, not interested in dealing with the man there. With confronting his failure. He wasn't a coward, no, it was a pragmatic sort of decision. The life of an adult male was rough and violent and showing weakness to others was beyond him. Or at least that is what he told himself.

His ego was too great to admit he was a bit of coward in that way.

He hid it behind practical reasons and lies but he did not like being seen as weak. The monster was supposed to be unflappable, unmoveable, a wall of muscle and violence who would show you exactly why he had a dangerous reputation. Not this broken thing that now limped, actually limped!, across the earth. The horror.

Curious and in need of new sights, new sounds, he hobbles towards the jungle. Veers abruptly from its heart and towards the barren, sooty wasteland. An environment both different and more fitting for the beast. He was fire but it had petered out, burned low. Ravaged and broken and burned his kingdom of ash behind him. As he moved, the ash irritating but ignored, he finds the scent of the young male from that long ago meeting. The one who had claimed head of his own pitiful branch. The one, that for some reason, Gwyn's memories stirred though nothing came to mind. A strange sort of dejavu though it probably was that he saw himself in the young man in many ways. Fighting for his place, trying to claim it. Not really having the respect to do so. Had he been at his best he would have stopped the path he took towards the other and avoided him. However the brute had been absorbed into his thoughts and had not noticed it until too late. That the bright ruddy fur of his relative was ahead, and he had not tried to be quiet. The clay monster would likely be noticed, and he drew himself up, standing as proudly as injuries allowed. Putting on a show for the benefit of the fool before him, and the fool within.
""""

Code by Saph Image by Kairi

He did not expect to find anyone out here in these burned wastes, who would bother? It was a place of danger and death. The ash was deep under his paws as he walked, crunching oddly with layers of half burnt foliage and whatever else had succumbed to the flames. It was also impossible to hide, though the smoke obscured vision a few meters out, it was not all encompassing. Viné heard the crunch of paws, and awkward gait he felt was familiar but could not figure out until he saw his cousin and his limp. Ah, that's what it was, the track of a wounded animal. An eyebrow raised skyward at the sight of Gywn. "Bad luck?" The red male asked, head tilting to the side in a gently curious fashion. Oh, how Jezebella had remembered the little boy. It seemed like a life time ago, hah, because it was. Despite their disagreement at the borderlands, she did not hate him. In fact, she had a soft spot for the boy, and without a doubt still did. It wouldn't let her bow to him though, not now, not when everything she'd always desired was in her reach, but it did allow for some amiability between them now, and any time they were not at odds.

@Gwyn ;; "speak"

He and the wastes were kin or there about. Once vicious, hungry destruction and now the shadow of what once was a raging fire. He is surprisingly clear headed today, his concussion seemingly behind him. The rigid stance, held upright only by his pride, had his healing bones aching. The raised brow was met with a simple stare, a sort of nonverbal no shit sherlock. "You could say that" he rumbles, bear trap jaws opening and releasing words. Watching the younger Casimir with a wary eye. The family had fallen, changed over time and he is not sure if this man truly held to the loyalty that had been paramount when he was young. It was entirely possible that they had forgotten in all this time. He'd like to think the male wouldn't take advantage of him while he stood so obviously injured. However he did not know what meager rules the family followed here. Case in point the idea of branches without a central sort of governing. Either way he did not trust the other man, did not know if the rules he grew up with would be applied. Still, he couldn't dismiss that nagging feeling of Dejavu. Was it this ones place in the family, in his life, or was it something more? ""

Code by Saph Image by Kairi

@Viné

The no shit look was not lost on Viné who returned it with a bored look. Well, he could have assumed he got his ass handed to him by another male, that wouldn't be so much bad luck as it was his own hubris coming back to bite him. After all, he had thought so highly of himself when they first met, taking over his and Akuma's treaty and treating it like trash. Gwyn couldn't understand what they'd seen, didn't realize how burned they were, much like this forest. It was the best way to move forward without adding to the dead.

And for this reason, perhaps, or perhaps because of the loyalty that Gwyn so doubted flowed in his veins, that the red male did not take the advantage afforded to him. Instead he turned his gaze away, his eyes not seeing the chard forest around them. "It is only weakness if we fail to rise above." The male replied instead of all the other thoughts that ran though their mind. There was a vague memory of having said something similar to a much younger Gywn; one who'd suffered a telling blow to his ego. Jezebella could not recall the specifics it had been so long ago, and in her travels down the halls of memories she uttered the words without thinking.

@Gwyn ;; "speak"

There was a silent exchange, one that he understood well. The boredom was simply matched with a slight narrowing of eyes and nothing more. Unwavering, he does not back down. However nor does he push it more; its not in him. The strength it took to drag his rock pounded arse from one side of the land to another meant he didn't have the gumption to do so. It's not that he is backing down but simply he is not escalating. A surprisingly balanced approach, but not out of character. He had long since learned at least the basics of diplomacy even if he didn't always look to it. That said, it was true he did not understand how burned they were. That what seemed logical to him, proper to him was no longer an option. And yet, he knew he was right. Branches were not a healthy way to solve the problem and perhaps when he was well once more he would crash against that idea. Explain why one should not do that.

It hadn't been him, but he had seen it bring ruin to others. Their solution was no better than the problem and was but a ticking time bomb. For one day something would come up they couldn't agree on and without someone that had the power to say no, to decide from them all it could dissolve into war.

Granted that was neither here nor there. They stood opposite one another, he with ruined form, and the other with ruined trust in family. Then, the young man speaks and it is as if a wraith from his past came over and slapped him on the upside of the head. The staring match is halted by a quick intake of breath and a sudden blink of confusion. "That is true" he rumbles his own gaze turning distant. Not with the fog that had plagued him as of late, but of memory. Of a time so long ago when his aunt had spoken those words to him after his first fight. That's what the dejavu feeling was. This youth reminded him of Jezebella. Perhaps the blood had bred true after all. He had no cause to suspect that this man had his long lost aunt wrapped in the shell of the youth before him. That she haunted his body after it became an empty house. He surfaces, watching him(her), with a touch of sharpness. Trying to see what lines had brought this boy before him and why he seemed so much like his long lost(and likely dead) aunt. Maybe his father had been born of her womb? Perhaps that was it. He had picked up on some mannerisms that his father had picked up from her. ""

Code by Saph Image by Kairi

@Viné
In which Gwyn suspects everything but the truth.

they both seemed to snap from the halls of memories, it seemed. Jezebella's words hung between them, Gywn's answer faint, a reminder that she might have said just a touch too much. "My uncle Ifrit's lesson to me, one his own mother had gave him." She decided to add, the lie making sense of it all handedly. Yes, of course the words came to him, they'd been passed on, a lesson the long dead Jezebella had shared with both her nephew and her own son. Of course there was similarities, the way Viné was her grandson, the way they stood, the way they spoke would of course be similar. He'd been raised to be a good Casimir and while some of his views might have changed, in truth, Jezebella's drive for power was a patient thing, he still knew the laws and the pride of their blood.

Of all lions who did not need to know the truth, Jezebella decided the potential patriarch of the family was not the one. It could, most probably ruin any chance she had of ruling the way she wished. The chance would not be taken, not now, perhaps not ever. It was a secret she would take to her second grave if need be. Secrets are her trade after all. ;; "speak"

She is safe for the moment, the man inclining his head slightly at her explanation. No suspicions here. He assumed he was simply a throwback to Jezebella, intentional or not. "Your grandmother was my aunt, I remember her saying that to me long ago " he states, finding himself warming a bit more to the younger man. He had liked his aunt, appreciated her advice(though perhaps not at the time.. he had been young after all), and someone who seemed to take after her was a pleasant sort of surprise to him. Despite their disagreement months ago, he has little feud with Vine, at least right now. Perhaps they could work something out which was more agreeable to them both in the future. Because he has experience the boy lacks, and of the two "heads" he met the the edge of this land, Vine was the one he much preferred.

He considers him(her) finally deciding that yes, he can potentially rest. He tires easily at the moment, and he already plans to find his wife after they parted. He needed the strength. So bone is marred with ash, his stomach meeting the dark ground as the behemoth lowers himself. It is clear from his gaze he is not submitting, just being practical. He does not offer much else, its not his way. He has never been the sort to wax poetic, if at all, about his past, or small talk.

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@Viné

He accepted her words and she once again felt safer in her theft-ed skin. Viné's head nodded slowly at his statement. "Did it help?" the deep voice asked only slightly curious. After all, she knew how it had been received (not great), but did the lesson's truth sink in over the years? Jezebella couldn't help but wonder; wonder what kind of lion Gwyn had grown into. She had an idea, the pompous entitlement was something she remembered from her brother, but a life time ago had maybe made Gwyn a little wiser then his line.

The older male is tired. Even Viné can see that, battered and bruises as he is. So, when he sinks to the ground the younger takes up a position as sentry. Rest Gwyn , your aunt will let no harm come to you. "Were are you staying?"

@Gwyn

""

don’t get caught, i’m dangerous

it’s always been like that.

code by corvus

There was something curious about the interest the youth was showing in his grandmother. Had he known her well? It seemed likely from the mannerisms he was showing. His head tilts back and forth in a small so so gesture. "It depends. " he rumbles. On the situation, of course, and ones desire to overcome it. Sometimes one was better leaving something alone instead of overcoming it. Granted, that was a last resort in most cases. He usually tried in his bullheaded way before discovering it may not be the best route to take.

He may be arrogant, and he may be a bit of a pompous arse but he had learned over the years. Perhaps more than what would be considered appropriate by some of their line, but some of their ideas did tend to grate. Particularly their opinions on the sexes. He had learned over the years there are exceptions to the rules about strength.

His cousin surprised him, standing sentinel. Brows raised a little expressing that before the monster relaxed. At least that was not something lost over the years, the loyalty. He would have had to get rid of the entire line if that still didn't hold true. "Somewhere in the mountains around the Hollow. I won't be returning. " he states with distaste. No way was he about to go back to his "healing den" or more aptly named prison. "I will find my wife after this. " he states, warmth finally entering his tones at my wife. He had to tell her something, and missed her in his grasp. She could also heal his injuries as an added bonus. "Then I know not where. " he states with a shrug. He would hit the ground running as much as possible and end up thriving. As was his way. He just had to find the place first(ooooor get reinjured and placed in another pride).

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@Viné