Nothing about his life made sense anymore.

Orson had thought that the retaking of Scilla Lagoon and the resulting reinstatement of his royal status would set his world right. But it had done nothing of the sort. The day of the challenge had been nothing short of a humiliating disaster, resulting in Orson losing more than he had gained. He'd burned bridges with his brother and his wife, lost his place in a pride that he'd actually felt like a part of, and Anniston had left without a single goodbye. He hadn't seen her since that day.

And now the Lagoon stood abandoned once again. He was Prince of nothing. His mother gone without a trace, his fathers scarce as well. He had no idea where his siblings had run off to. Orson had never felt so alone. And the recent incident with Nero on Stygian Shore had left even deeper seeds of doubt in his heart.

Since accompanying the injured lion back to Lorien Plains not long before, Orson had been lingering just beyond the pride's borders. The field-lands were a place he'd had some experience hunting and he'd been able to procure just enough food to keep himself going, specializing in tracking and taking down guinea fowl. He'd pace the perimeters of the price from time to time, trying to search for any signs of his friend, @Anniston. He missed her, and he wanted to talk to her and apologize for leaving her behind. But he did not feel welcome here, and so he stayed well beyond the scent markers, always keeping himself low in the grass to attempt to stay out of sight.

Orson had gotten quite familiar with the outskirts of Lorien Plains at this point. He'd been lingering about them for the last week or so, passing through on his daily hunting forays. On this particular day he'd taken himself another guinea. The feathered carcass was held firmly in his jaws as he loped along. Unlike the first time he'd shown up here, Orson had grown taller and stronger, with lean muscle on his huge lanky frame, his neck and chest adorned with the sprouts of a nearly black mane. He passed much closer to the boarder than usual, maintaining his pace and thinking that maybe he'd catch a glimpse of her if he could just get close enough...

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@Ghyslaine

Trade Experience
+5 Explore the borders of a pride or group
+5 Practice running or speed
+5 Gift someone a meal you caught

@Orson

This wasn't she imagined her life to be, not with the chaos of the last war, her family's issues with her husband, the cubs she adored, leading, though she knew that was soon to be something she was free from. This wasn't the life she had pictured for herself- nothing like this. The husband, the cubs- sure the drama entangled with it? No, no... she foolishly thought it would be easy once Nero and she had gotten married, that their lives would become simple- because they would surely get a happy ending wouldn't they?

Didn't they deserve that?

Or did they deserve nothing more than the chaos being thrown their way?

Head carried low, she patrolled the borders of the plains, her focus more on the path in front of her than the world around her- her mind blank with a bleak sort of expressionless mask on her face. Ghyslaine just wanted things to be easy, to make everyone happy and she didn't know if she could do that. If she couldn't make everyone happy... than making her husband and children happy was a good start? Right?

She stumbles a bit, as a scent wafts over her, and her head raises a bit, as she prowls forward curiously. "Orson?" She asks into the air, knowing the grasses could easily give him some cover if he wished to remain out of sight, but she swore the breeze had picked up a trace of him. Though Ghyslaine hadn't seen him since that day in the Lagoon, she certainly held no true ill will towards the young male, and was curious... was he nearby? Maybe he'd come to visit Nero or Anniston- and was on his way out.

_{ART BY YUMPY}

He was upwind, his scent blowing right towards Lorien Plains. Orson was aware of this, but he figured he’d be passing through quickly and that it wouldn’t matter. Part of him wanted to be detected, especially if it was Anniston who noticed him so close to the borders. He wanted to know how Nero was doing as well, his concern for his brother’s physical and emotional well being was still at an all time time. His large paws make confident contact with the ground with each stride, his once clumsy muscles having grown longer and leaner and more sure of step. With each excursion such as this the boy grew stronger. It was plain to see that he was destined to be a monstrous beast like his father, Ransom; in body if not in mind.

When Orson spotted movement in the grass up ahead he slowed his lope into a trot, his head lifting and ears thrust forward curiously. He hoped to see the plum hues of his friend’s pelt but she was not easily spotted and the reason became apparent soon enough. There instead was the wheat pelt which belonged to @Ghyslaine, nearly invisible among the tall grass until she lifted her head to look around. If ever there was a lioness designed for such a biome it was she. Orson heard her speak his name into the wind and he cringed. In a moment he would be spotted; as large and darkly colored as he was, he stood little chance at fully camouflaging himself against the keenness of a lioness.

With the fowl still gripped in his teeth, Orson checked his course to be sure that he was skirting well beyond the scent markers that established Lorien’s borders. He would slow from a trot to walk before finally stopping a good 50 yards from her and setting his quarry at his feet. He would then raise his head and survey her from afar. “I have not crossed your borders and I’ve taken my prey from neutral lands.” He declared, his posture tense and his tone defensive.

There is silence, except for the soft rustling of the grass- the whisper of the breeze against the tall plains grasses that did so well to camouflage her. She waits in silence, figuring that she was imagining things- that Orson wasn't there... until she spotted him- approaching with a bird in his jaws. When he speaks, his tone is defensive, and a part of her heart sinks. She shrugs. "You're welcome to cross the borders anytime. You're family." She says simply. Whether or not he hated her, she didn't rightly care- he was Nero's brother. "I would never deny you the right to visit your brother." She says softly- and her eyes drift to the bird. "As for the prey, take what you want." She says.

Now for Vio, he may not feel the same way, but Ghyslaine is just so damned tired. So damned tired of leading, the responsibilities it put upon her shoulders. She sighed softly, her eyes traveling over him- noting how he seemed to have grown- to her she thought he was larger than Nero now, and she wondered if next to him- he would really be.

"How are you doing?" She tries, trying to be friendly, trying to make peace with him with kindness. Trying to navigate the waters of a tricky family dynamic- even though she doesn't know how in the hell to navigate that anymore.

@Orson

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The bad happened before. Orson had started an encounter with Ghyslaine feeling one way only to become completely disarmed by her kindness. It was almost immediately happening again. Orson was taken aback. He’d been convinced that Nero’s wife hated him now. He’d never been given any actual confirmation or proof of this, but the scuffle he’d had with Nero, and the exchange of harsh words, had been enough to seal the deal in the boy’s mind. But now she was telling him he was welcome any time? A disconcerted expression creased Orson’s brows. It was clear that he was battling with opposing feelings that pulled him in two directions- one towards the border towards the pride and extended family that had shown him so much warmth, the other towards the open horizon, away from conflict.

Orson looked this way and that, as if he expected an ambush. Then settling his gaze back on Ghyslaine he replied. “I’m fine.” there was certainly a lot more to say. Such as ‘I miss my friends’ or ‘I’m all alone’ and even ‘the Lagoon is been abandoned’ but his defenses were up and he didn’t confess any of it. Instead, after a moment of consideration, he asked, “Is my brother doing better?”

The other day, when he’d accompanied Nero back home after… the incident the albino had been in rough shape. Limping, coughing up blood, bruised and probably a couple of broken ribs… but Orson couldn’t be sure. Either way, he’d been bad enough to appear dead and it seemed like a miracle that he made the walk all the way back here. Orson had seen neither hide nor hair of him since and he wanted to know if he was ok.

Was there any point in holding a grudge against Orson? No, not really. Ghyslaine had been frustrated at the time... but it wasn't worth staying angry over. No- Ghyslaine's irritation came and went like the breeze. She didn't stay mad long. Lucky for those in her life.

When he says she's fine, she narrows her eyes for a second- focusing on him but she doesn't push it- when he asks about Nero.., the conversation shifts.

"He's... resting." She says. "I... wasn't home when you brought him home... but... do you know what happened?" She asks carefully. She hadn't asked Nero yet, wanting him to heal... wanting to give him time. She was sure, if he was in danger- if he had been attacked he would have said something... She trails off, looking down at the earth, and shuffled her paws.

@Orson

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Orson was relieved to hear that Nero was resting and that Ghyslaine didn’t have some sort of strong reaction. She must not know then, he assumed. This was confirmed when she asked Orson if he knew what happened. Orson immediately dropped his gaze, glancing down at the Guinea fowl and poking it with a forepaw. His tail flicked agitatedly around his heels and he bit his tongue, agonizing over his next words.

“I…” he began, still avoiding her gaze. Orson was a terrible liar and it would be quite obvious that he did know just by his demeanor and avoidant posture and mannerisms. Nero had tried to make him promise not to tell. He obviously didn’t want her to know. But shouldn’t she know? His brother’s secret was a heavy one. Too heavy for a young and naive teenager. “Know,” he finished. Did he say ‘no’ or ‘I know’? He was hoping she wouldn’t question it.

@Orson

There is a sense of nervousness within her, a sense of... foreboding as she poses this question to Orson. Does she really want to know? She watches him, silently, her expression neutral, as she waits. When Orson speaks, however... he doesn't have much to say. She is silent as he speaks, well... says 'I'... and then... 'know.'.. or is that 'no.'

She frowns a bit, and sighs. "I just... I need to know if he's... okay, because he came home pretty beat up and that doesn't seem okay." She admits. She's already pretty convinced that she's a shitty wife. She sits down, heavily, sighing softly. "I can't lose him." She admits to Orson, raw honesty in her voice as she looks to meet the younger males gaze.

"And you can't either.... so I think that makes us on the same side of this?" She proposes. Whatever this was.

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A dark look came over Orson's face and he cast his gaze at the ground. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to run away, but then in a jerky motion he dropped down to his haunches. The rustling of the grass behind him gave away the agitated motions of his tail. His gaze smoldered onto the dead hen at his paws, avoiding looking at Ghyslaine.

After a terse moment, Orson finally responded. "I don't think he's ok." He said, glancing at her sidelong, but avoiding meeting her eyes. It was true, he didn't want to lose Nero. But he also didn't want to attract any more of his brother's ire. But he was also so worried about him. And he could tell that Ghyslaine was too.

But how could he tell her the things that Nero had said? It all weighed so heavily on Orson, he couldn't imagine dumping it off on Ghyslaine now. It would hurt her... the things that Orson knew. The way that Nero had said that he felt. The next thing Orson said would be muttered in a low voice, barely audible for Ghyslaine to hear at the distance that they stood apart. "You aren't gonna like what I have to say."

Ghyslaine's gut clenches further, as she watches the young male- and remains there in silence. She doesn't wish to push him- in fact, she lacks the over-all energy to push him. So she just watches and waits, to see what he has to say- if he says anything. She worries, deep within, her gaze contemplative as she studies him- worries for her husband, and what could be going on in his mind... and what that impact would be on her, the cubs... All Ghyslaine does is worry, it seems.

When @Orson speaks, she feels that clenching feeling in her gut harden into a leaden feeling, and she swallows thickly- her throat constricting. I don't think he's okay. He says and she wants to echo that she... worries about this- worries that he isn't. She lets out a very soft breath. "I'm worried he's not."

He's given up so much for her, and it constantly feels like they can never be even now- his family, Nazonal... and yet Ghyslaine's own life has constantly caused him turmoil. She can't forget how he felt about Alaric and Slaine's visit- that argument. Her heart ices over, dread coiling in her at the very tips of her toes as Orson speaks again...

'You aren't gonna like what I have to say.'

"Whatever it is... I just... I need to know." Her voice breaks a bit there, but her eyes are earnest, as she studies her husband's brother.

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