She knew it would only be a matter of time before Alizabeth came back and took over the Lagoon again, or perhaps Ransom would do so, but for the time being she felt that draw to the water and the coast once more. The Casimir turned Valentine refused to return to the Lagoon alone, though, because that seemed like betrayal to say the least. So, instead, she turned to the other pride along the beach. She didn't know who ruled here at the moment, or what their ideals might be, but there was time to discover such things before she committed, presuming she wasn't simply claimed once she was seen.

She walked along the border for a few minutes, searching for a good spot to sit and wait, finally taking a seat under a palm tree as she called out for someone, anyone, she wasn't picky, to come greet her.

Sheltered in the shadows of the forest by the haze of the summer sun, Gauthier arrived to inspect the call made from the border. Curious, pleasantly intrigued by etiquette (though hard found to display etiquette himself, most times) he arrived to find @Dysnomia at the very edge, turning expectantly to his guest.

Hardly the sight of regality, Gauthier is all hard lines and sharpened angles, his lumbering amble roved in the weight barbarous musculature. A disheveled mane passed beneath the fronds of tropical flora, his ear flicked at a stray hair. Breaking the line of shadows into the crash of sunlight, he took a disgruntled step back in the comfort of shade and nodded to the dark woman. How may I help you? the only thing smooth, rolled from a nest of teeth, is the assertion of baritone; lacquered, stoic. Gentlemanly politesse from the devil's mouth._{BG — ART — CODE}

He came before her, a beast who had clearly seen many a battle. Small wonder he found himself sovereign of the cove now, and she doubted he would pay much mind to the eventual challengers. Perhaps under his paws the cove would remain relatively quiet for some time.

"Thinking of joining," she replied simply, choosing not to waste his time because he seemed the sort of man who didn't like his time being wasted. "First I wanted to know what your rules are and what kind of members you're looking for." She could introduce herself properly in a minute, first she wanted to know what she might be getting herself into. There wasn't any point in a lengthy introduction if it turned out the cove under his leadership wasn't for her.

@Gauthier

Gauthier could never fault someone for being thorough. After all, he would prefer that those of Caladan were connected in some way of comradery, that their morale would hold by some... unholy idea of teamwork, whatever it looked like. The matter of ethics are another world entirely. His brand of diplomacy would not allow for anything less than honesty, despite its brutality.

Violence, to him, comes as necessarily as breathing. Such is the way of beasts.

He grunted approvingly for the forward nature of her question - wasting little time, cutting no corners. Straight to the point, sharp as a blade: as he preferred. I seek out those who are looking for a place and purpose, whatever that purpose may be. What else is there in this place? The family-ruled empires, the male-dominated harems, the quiet glades in which the righteous spent their dull lives? Gauthier craved more, always. A neverending hunger. A devouring pit. I am not sure what my... kind would be, a half lie, fishing. Many of them you couldn't trust your back to, and it was the sort he preferred to have his back. He grinned crookedly at the thought. Impulsive, ambitious, sparing thoughts of what is good for what is necessary. What feels good. he mused softly, dreaming saccharine dreams of anything but softness.

What feels good, to you? he turned his cold eyes back to @Dysnomia, pleasantly curious, machiavellian, his expression shaded with a cruel delight._{BG — ART — CODE}

His response came quickly, and when he smiled so too did she, for his words spoke not only to her but to her heritage. "Being impulsive and ambitious," she replied honestly. "I was born Dysnomia Casimir. My family slowly abandoned this place, and if they hadn't they would have expected me to be a docile sheep, following the men of the family. That... isn't my way. Now I'm Dysnomia Valentine, and I am no one's sheep."

Hadn't been for quite some time, and she refused to ever go back to it either. Even if the Casimir should one day return and reestablish themselves in the lands. Not that she thought that was at all likely at this point. The family had been gone for so long at this point she doubted she'd ever see any of them again. Wherever they'd gone, she guessed she hoped they were doing all right, even if they'd abandoned her.

@Gauthier

A docile sheep, following the men of this family. The heritage of men, the constant plague of that ever-reaching masculine shadow which touched crown to crown. Gauthier lifted his chin in acknowledgement and a sliver of wonder as he rolled Casimir silently over his tongue. The Devorre were patriarchal once. There were many who longed for those old days - the days before his foremother made her nephews bow before their father's corpse and pay allegiance to their Matriarch. Gauthier was fond of newer days.

Were it not the women who mastered the hunt for ages? Who bore generations mewling into this world of blood and agony, who steeled them with their own ilk?

Valentine now. Hailed a familiarity to Alizabeth by name alone; it wouldn't do well to mention here, now, the Scilla King he had maimed in the name of the Wolfbron queen. Yet Casimir - he remembered a lilt to the name once before. You have family in Caladan, it seems. It couldn't hurt anyways, could it? It wasn't a brazen male that paraded the name through the Cove (though he hadn't seen the effeminate Casimir resident much since their debut). His eyes rolled up and out, as if the name rested in the clouds, waiting to be snatched for the forefront of memory. A... Daeva, I believe. There it was, waiting in the cloud shaped like a mutilated antelope. His eyes had honed in on it as a piece broke away in a thin wisp, and settled back on her own dark features.

Reunions aside, there are other matters to be discussed. Matters of sheep and men. I do not want mindless followers. Nor subservient women. If anything, wild, feral women were more of a preference than any else, were it a topic of company one way or another. I value loyalty, but not blindly. Only that I can rely on one the way they may rely on me, and that I won't have my guts opened in my sleep. Though he is a rather light sleeper.

@Dysnomia_{BG — ART — CODE}

Surprise lit in her eyes as he mentioned she had family within the pride, surprise that slipped to shock as the name dropped from his lips. "Sister," she breathed. Was it possible that she wasn't the only one who had been abandoned in these lands? Perhaps Gwyn had only taken their brother with him wherever he'd gone. "I will have to speak with her later," she commented. First she had to secure her entrance into this pride, which was now of some importance to her as opposed to being a passing interest before.

"Well, it's fortunate I have a mind, then," she commented, "and enjoy using it. And while I have ambition it's not in the murder people in their sleep way. It's no fun if your opponent can't fight back. Speaking of which, what of the ranks within your pride? Which are taken and do you allow fighting for them?" She presumed yes given his discussion so far, but it was always good to be clear of such things.

@Gauthier

Sister, in a breath that does not seem too hostile - his brow perked for the acknowledgement, hoping that it is a pleasant surprise. He and his siblings had not all been on the most amiable terms, so violence could be warranted in matters he had no nose in; but nose he would if need be. For now, his nose only wrinkled in the wry humor of her continuing words.

No fun indeed, but easier certainly. A hemorrhaging, half-awake Gauthier steeped in feverish mind-numbing pain and still-dreams would be a contender yet when he found his feet and coherent thoughts; albeit messy, delirious, and bound to some unnamed tomb. But unsliced he was a cenobite to the art of sadism, to salt in the wound and a laughing desecration of all that is merciful in the name of shameless, vehement indulgence. His intention was to avoid either engagement with those he welcomed into the fold. Bad business and all that.

He inhaled sharply on the matter of ranks, (as Amaryllis ranks as we, dear reader, know are not so suited to Gauthier's own idea of a healthy lion-pride rank system) the easier subject being the fight. Anything can be fought for. a musing simplicity that roamed, room to room and thought to thought, as his eyes searched the decadent distance for a better answer. But skills... The backbone of a pride is stable by the provision of food, knowledge, well-being and strength is it not? A hunter can be out-hunted, a silver tongue out-smarted, a gatherer out-bountied. He winced to find each word slowly, choosingly, ticking a claw against the sand-grit. His eyes returned to @Dysnomia and narrowed, if only to keep them from rolling back into his skull to search for the answers in some lowly cavern of knowledge being swatted away by ill-translations. I want to know a rank is earned as well as it is yearned for. Anything is open, if proven deserved and fitting.

His mind rocked to Ludivine and Diantha. Except, perhaps, Sovereign. That cannot be fought for._{BG — ART — CODE}

Anything could be fought for, he stated. His follow-up was, as with the rest of what he'd said during their little conversation, quite accurate. "That they can," she agreed. She had been honing her fighting skills, but even so she had every chance of losing a battle as she did winning it. Seemed as though she'd lost the more important ones she'd attempted at that.

His comment that sovereign was off the table was expected, and she nodded her understanding. "Of course." One typically wanted to actually choose who filled that title. Besides, she'd served as sovereign before and didn't think she would want to again unless it was under Alizabeth or Ransom once more. It was a position that required a certain level of relationship with the high sovereign, after all.

"Well, I believe I'd like to come be part of the cove, if you'll have me," she commented. "I can hunt and fight, though I'm always working to improve at both." She realized she hadn't told him what she could do until then, and had just been asking what he and his pride could do for her. She'd admit she was selfish, but honestly that was taking it a bit far.

@Gauthier

His words (always with their brutish air, their unintended lilt of arrogance and equal detachment) had found their way well enough to clarity, it seemed. A thankful thing, and a thousand thanks more that it is accepted well. There were many of those who expected some ease into the higher methods of the pecking order, and Gauthier was not the keenest of negotiators. One would find him a better despot.

He huffed some breath of agreement or relief at her amiable displays of understanding, not impartial to the possibility that she may fight for one of those spots after all. There was no despair to behold the violent beginnings of a wonderful partnership.

In his humble opinion, that which enjoyed far too much the taste of a good steak and the thrill of success, another hunter added to the fray was always something to delight in. Perhaps it was just the pleasure as one hunter to another to find companionship in their particular hobbies, but it also meant the ease of a good dinner. Triumph was the best morale lifter, especially in the realm of food.

I could never say no to another hunter that won't eat me. Though there would be some sadistic joy in accepting one who'd try. I also encourage the drive for self betterment. One could never be too sharp. he grinned, though it forever a macabre thing, it was as warm as a winter day could possibly be on the cut-up canvas of his face. His voice far smoother than the mechanics of those pulling tethers of flesh and tissue, it held a lilt of welcome. Do see yourself a part of the cove, @Dysnomia. I suppose, though I have few uses for a name, you may call me Gauthier. I look forward to seeing you in our hunts.

And pleasantly enough, he turned partially to the cove that stretched behind him, lingering only momentarily in the gesture of invitation should she wish for a brief tour. But he would not beg, and so he would see himself off - pending that she had no further questions he would be fit to answer.

exit._{BG — ART — CODE}