He does complain. A lot. She's right on the money about that, too. Somebody who understands... just where has this woman been all her life? As things stand, her brother has no right to be complaining as much as he does-- especially not with that annoying, grating voice, which uncannily mingles the sound of a baby crying with the nagging persistence of a mosquito's annoying whine. Maybe it would be different if @Ambrose had a deeper, darker voice. Like velvet. But he doesn't. Promptly the woman gets up, and Uma tracks her as she gets moving-- really gets moving. The faintest hint of surprise colors her coldly sober features, barely perceptible, but there just the same. Her eyes blow open just a touch as one of @Cirilla's paws seizes her twin's neck, the other covering his mouth. She looks Uma directly in the eye, and for one instant, her and her brother's thoughts are perfectly synchronized: what a woman. She oozes capability from every pore, the perfect example of what a lion should be. And she makes her brother look like a little bunny rabbit in comparison. Not that that takes much to begin with, but still.

"No." She brings out with startling clarity. She lumbers slowly toward the pair, expression inscrutable. From the way she's moving, it almost seems like she's about to put a stop to things before they escalate too far. But she doesn't, eyeing the woman solemnly instead. "Breathless isn't big enough of a word. You got him to shut up for a whole five seconds. Five seconds of absolute, unbroken silence. You are an artist. And a privilege to behold. Thank you." She says, admiration evident in each syllable. "Typically, I'd just sit on him. Like this." To demonstrate, she finds Ambrose, still catching his breath. As she's done countless times before, she unceremoniously plows her none too inconsiderable weight into him, seeking to bowl him over and squarely plant her butt down onto his face. "But it's not as sophisticated as your way of working. You can still hear the muffled screams of terror and desperation."

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Internally, Cirilla is having a great time. She cannot help but feel exhilarated by the thought of scaring the shit out of @Ambrose whilst gaining the approval from his ever-so loving sister, @Uma. What a perfect scenario. Eyes move back to Ambrose as he defends himself in vain, claiming that his complaining was a stress release above everything else. Okay, darlin'. She replies with a smirk and brief shake of her head. Was he really convincing himself?

Cirilla was about to say something to Uma when Ambrose piped up again after his traumatic experience. Manhandled? She repeats with a snort, turning back round to close the distance between them once more and, with a womanly power she seemed to possess, drew a singular claw out from her paw and enticed it up Ambrose's chin. That was me being gentle. She whispers with a musing grin, then turning herself back round and allowing the tip of her tail to smack him directly in the face.

Ambrose was easy to read. Uma, however, was much harder. Rosé eyes study the ivory female for a brief, silent moment, but it is internal surprise that blossoms on her chest at the woman's words of admiration. Any time. I take great pleasure in shutting men up - either by taking their life, or their tongue. Both works. She remarks with a smirk, before watching the woman sit directly on her brother. The bond that the duo had was jealousy-inducing, and it was at this moment, when she was talking about his muffled screams, that Cirilla had an idea.

I'm going to take a wild guess. She begins, rather out of the blue. That you are both without a pride to call your own, given that you both smell of each other and nothing else. A simple, but accurate observation. My services are... in high demand. I stick by you both, protect you if you need it, and you both can stick by me. The three musketeers, if you will. Oh, a business deal.

Impressive. That's the only thing on his mind as the woman walks away, leaving him winded. Still, he uses the little breath he has left to sass her, and she rounds back on him, a claw sliding under the angle of his jaw. She shashays away and he doesn't expect her tail to hit him in the face, so the sudden contact makes him flinch—but he can't help but stare after her, awestruck. Talk about embarrassing. But he's not even mad.

Then Uma goes on about she's an artist, and then, well, he does get a little worked up. An artist and a privilege? Really? This striped woman barely showed up minutes ago, and she's already being lauded as a hero! Maybe it's time to find a new sister? He's still eyeballing the woodland woman when Uma comes lumbering towards him and plants her ass upon him in one swift and decisive motion. "Oh come o—" Before he knows it he's sent floundering again, this time underneath the crushing weight of his hefty sister.

A muffled roar leaves him as he tries to pull his head free. Sure, a hot woman threatening him is one thing, but his skull being crushed by Uma is another entirely. Out of the two, of course it's his fat sister who ends up sitting on him. Meanwhile, the two casually discuss as his skull is being shattered. He doesn't know what, exactly, as his brain feels like it's about to pop out of his ears. The weather, maybe?

He blindly lashes a claw, hopefully into her ass, and tries to finagle his head out from under her. He quickly sidesteps away from her and gives his mane a good shake. On account of his head being stuck under Uma's ass for the larger portion of the conversation, he only catches the tail end of the discussion, but, naturally, doesn't hesitate to chip in. "Do you always threaten people before asking them to team up with you?" He scoffs, exasperated. The audacity. "Can you believe this?" He exchanges a look with Uma, where... well, he probably shouldn't expect any support there.

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"Me too. I enjoy shutting everybody up equally, though." She returns breezily, like they're merely discussing food preferences. Like Ambrose isn't getting the life squeezed out of him right underneath their noses, trashing beneath her not inconsiderable girth like a fish on dry land as they exchange tactics on ways to best oppress him. It's nice. Almost enough to bring a smile to her face. He deserves it for calling her hippo dung, anyway. The woman's distaste for men is news to her, though it's just as likely that Ambrose simply got on her nerves. He does have a knack for that. In her engrossment, his existence almost eludes her entirely. Until she feels his claws sinking into her flank, that is. Promptly she lurches to her feet, alarmed. She snaps a glance back at him, only then seeming to remember he'd still been stuck serving as her seat this whole time. Can you believe this? He addresses her, and a grave, contemplative cast comes over her face. "No. I can't." She seems to agree, turning solemnly to gaze at the woman, and then: "She's magnificent. Almost... too magnificent to be true. A lot you could learn from her, Ambrose. About what it means to be a lion. A real lion." Yes... that seems right. Cirilla is every inch a lion. Not a damn bunny rabbit. She mentions her services being in high demand then, and Uma is inclined to believe her. She'd stick around, if only to get to see her practice her craft one more time. Watching her had been exhilarating. Fascinating. It had been nothing short of the truest art. "The three musketeers." She echoes, and nods her assent, liking the effortless way it rolls off her tongue. And if they really are to stick together, she supposes introductions are in order. "Name's Uma. What's yours?"

@Cirilla, @Ambrose

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Eyes turn first to @Ambrose as he makes a simple yet accurate observation. Not always. She replies calmly. Sometimes I like to play with my food before eating it, and other times I just like to devour it. It really does depend on how I'm feeling. Cirilla shrugs, hoping that answers his question about the whole threatening someone, before asking them to team up with her.

Eyes shift then to @Uma, who seemed more solemn and reserved than her brother. And who could blame her? Cirilla imagined that she had probably picked up the pieces from Ambrose for long enough and knew just what he was like. She was there when he had been poisoned by Cirilla (and it was so easy) and had escorted him away like a duck to water. But what she said next took Cirilla by surprise a little - so much so, she allows herself to smirk at what the ivory lioness was saying. I'm all for teaching, if he's up for it. She returns with a gentle nod of her head.

Uma. I'm Cirilla. Cirilla Sigrún. Is your brother's name just the village idiot, or did his mother love him enough to actually give him a real name? She asks, looking at Ambrose, who seemed quite shell shocked by the whole experience.

Ambrose is astounded at the answer. The absolute, scathing, arrant disprespect! Oh, he gets it. He's food now. He's pretty sure they're all apex predators, here. He'll show her yet. "Should I be concerned?" Brow furrows as he looks between the two of them. His sister is lauding the woman, and the latter... well, she's just frightening. He definitely gets the analogy of Cirilla playing with her prey without killing it completely. Torture. That's what spending each second in her company is.

"Oh, I'd love to see those lessons. What could you possibly teach me? How to be greatest asshole in the world?" He chortles rather sanctimoniously; not at all offended that he was used as a chew toy between the two of them not seconds ago, or anything. Still, the remark does pique his interest. She is effective, efficient—and her psychological game? Unprecedented.

Next thing he knows, he's being ignored, shunted aside and left behind as the sole occupant of kiddie table once again. The lionesses talk between each other, and he's starting to feel increasingly invisible. Wow. Finally, the hot nerine-eyed woman addresses him again, but only to call him a village idiot. Naturally. He glares at her, completely and utterly aghast. Really? "Who hurt you?" He accuses, his frail ego destroyed. "Uma, come on. Back me up here!"

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@Cirilla. Somehow it fits her. If @Ambrose possesses even half a brain cell, he'll keep her around. She'll be good for him. He needs somebody to keep him in line. Somebody besides herself. Somebody with the capability to protect him, who sees the world from a different point of view from his own. A less naive point of view, perhaps. An outsider might think she's being cruel, and admittedly— maybe she's overindulging just a little. But there's no mistaking they balance each other out, maybe more than they think, and Uma is nothing if not observant. "Ambrose. But he answers to either. Wussy also works." She answers, evenly, contentedly, turning her gaze back on Ambrose in tandem with the other lioness. And so they stand, gazing out at her brother as if into a campfire. There's no campfire, but they are roasting Ambrose, so maybe it still counts. Her twin, visibly offended, proceeds to throw a fit.

Who hurt you? He spews. But Cirilla is a lion. She's born to inflict hurt. It's the way of the world, isn't it? "You're my brother. But you're not a lion." The words come out evenly. "Lions don't whine. Hyenas do. And they don't stoop to hunting lizards. That's reserved exclusively for rodents." The silence spins out for a moment, gaze unwavering. "You... are a rodent, Ambrose." She concludes, then seems to reconsider. "No... smaller. More annoying. A fly." Yes. An indecisive, whining, immature fly— stuck indelibly in its larvae stage and in desperate need of correction. Or maybe she should've called him hippo dung and see how he enjoys being likened to what comes out of another animal's asshole. She's unnaturally still then, seemingly lapsing into a long silence, until she speaks up again, decisively and clearly: "I want to keep her." If her tone is anything to go by, it's not a matter open to discussion.

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Cirilla chuckles at @Ambrose's question and shakes her head. No. Concern is not necessary. Not unless you want to be concerned. Cirilla shrugs, turning her crown away from the male idly.

That was, of course, until he spoke again. At that point, her head snapped back round, and her rosé eyes look at him with a piercing stare. I could teach you to not take poisons from strangers. She digs, casting her mind back to the 'sweets' he had taken so easily from her when she had been just a stranger. But for being the greatest asshole in the world? You don't need a teacher for that. She spits with a click of her tongue, before shaking her head and turning her attention solely to @Uma.

Cirilla nods at the information regarding the ivory male. Ambrose, Uma - right. The Sigrún echoes their names before falling silent once more. You can keep me. I've decided I'm not going anywhere. Winding up Ambrose has, undoubtably, made my week. Perhaps I can... practice on him. Ah, ambiguous as always.

Uma does, in fact, not back him up here.

First he's Village Idiot, and next thing he knows he's Wussy. He's not gonna pretend he doesn't liken Uma to a hippo at least once a week, but two against one? Kinda harsh. Uma merrily goes on to compare him to a hyena, and then decides he's not even that. No, he's a rodent, at best. Ambrose stares at her, appalled, as she decides that even a rodent is too good for him, and finally settles on a fly. A fly. A lot to unpack there. He furrows his brow, his ego bruised for the umpteenth time in the span of mere minutes. Fortunately for everyone, one need only prod lightly at his self-esteem for him to take the bait, utterly exasperated. "How am I a fly? Flies are loud and—upsetting, and each time you swat them, they come back more persistently." Then, a beat. "Oh." L for Ambrose once again. He knows he played himself, and it shows on his face.

I want to keep her. @Uma decides this woodland woman is some stray to be adopted—without consulting him, for that matter. Ambrose absolutely does not want to keep her, and as Cirilla goes on about using him for practice, those hawkish eyes staring a hole through his head, he's starting so sympathize with the zebras he hunts on a regular basis. He feels like he's about to get run down and end up as lion fertilizer. "Did you miss the part where she said she wants to practice on me?" He protests, flabbergasted. Not like he runs the show, anyway. Uma does, as much as Ambrose likes to pretend otherwise. Whatever she says usually goes. Like it wasn't enough getting ordered around by one maniacal madwoman. Now there's two of them, and suddenly he feels like the new kid on the block, at the mercy of his playground bullies. Ah, the betrayal of a sibling.

"You know what? Fine." He concedes, much in the manner of a petulant cub. He's not jealous of getting replaced by a pink-eyed psychopath at all. Nope. "If you wanna pal around with seven shades of crazy over there, that's on you. Just keep me out of it. I like my insides on the inside." He adds, rather helpless against their united front. With a final, suspicious glare @Cirilla's way, he doesn't have much of a choice but to fall in line, and so he doesn't bother raising any more protests... for now. It's still Ambrose, after all. "Before new girl here gets any funny ideas, I'm still in charge. And when I'm not in charge, Uma's in charge. Can we get that on the record?" Desperate to assert his non-existent authority, as ever.

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Clearly, her brother hasn't taken her advice never to accept candy from strangers to heart. Maybe Cirilla's tougher approach will set him straight. The two squabble some more, and though she makes no outward sign, she's smiling knowingly on the inside. She allows her to brother squirm some more as he tries to figure out the full equation of how exactly he resembles a fly. She doesn't feed him the answer by hand, but eventually he seems to come to his own conclusion. He knows she's right. Of course she is. That's why she calls the shots— that's why, when she says she wants to keep Cirilla, it's not to be taken as a matter up for debate. She wants to keep Cirilla, so they will. A firm paw to guide him is just what her brother needs, and her? Well, she likes Cirilla. For her to take a liking to someone is a rare thing indeed, but they seem to be on the same page. Where her brother sees a monster, Uma sees a friend... someone to be admired, to keep her sane where all the world might think them insane. Her violent practices do not faze her. Quite the contrary; in this world, there is no survival without violence. To think otherwise— well, that is the true insanity, isn't it?

Somewhere from far away, Ambrose sputters his protest. Did you miss the part where she said she wants to practice on me? Something hard comes into her eyes now, and abruptly she turns her uncannily colored gaze on him, strange and hypnotic, seeking to still him with a look. I want to keep her, that look seems to be reiterating, and finally, her twin concedes. With that, she loses all interest in her brother again, already directing her full attention back to the auburn lioness. Her brother still rants on, ending his spiel with: can we get that on the record? "We'll keep it in mind.", She replies as a lazy afterthought, so as to give him at least some sense of authority to hang onto. Given how much he's been pestered and prodded at today, she can give him that much— but she's looking at Ciri, eyes bright and aflame with intrigue. "Let's walk. I want to hear more about all your different methods of torture." Away from the annoyingly high-pitched squeaks of my brother, is the implication she leaves unsaid, and starts away only if Ciri does, attentive and uncharacteristically focused on the other lioness.

EXIT

@Ambrose, @Cirilla

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