Originally, when Tilly had arrived from the inky expanse of the shoreline toward the limestone cliffs and the irresistible mystery of the big cave set into it’s cliffside, she had not considered the tide. Onwards she trotted, dark and barely-furred paws patting over hard-packed wet sands until the shadow of the cave mouth enveloped her strawberry fur and she could hear the sound every step bounce of the yawning tunnel.

She spent some time weaving through tunnels, inspecting the deposits of shells and picking out the ones she liked the very most. Tilly had not notice the sand growing steadily wetter as the time passed… not until the water had grown to several inches in depth and had began to lap over her ankles.

“Oh no!” she gasped, her dismay quick and her voice carried by the tunnels. There went the little pile of shells, washed away as another wave lapped in. The sand dragged them away with the push and pull of the water, covering some and pinning others under drifts Tilly know with great upset would be impossible to find should the water flood further.

She splashed around fruitlessly, trying to pin down what she could see with her paws. “No no no!” she wailed. After all that effort of finding them!

— for @Kvare

He had never been meant for the beach, but he had persisted, and the brutal way with which he'd grown used to the sands and the rolling waves had unfurled a sense of belonging. His months spent in the Cove hardened him to the heavy smell of salt, to the wet rocks that hugged the shore, battered consistently by the ceaselessness of the waves. He had not become one with the sea but had grown against it; muscled legs fervent against the pull of the waves and his sharpened to brace against the slick rockface of the cliffs. Even his treks along the shore and away from the Cove had become familiar, and the southern seas that clung to Amaryllis' warmest borders were like an old friend.

His walks never went interrupted. He managed the same path almost every day, the imprints of his paws washed anew every morning he'd start again.

Perhaps it were fate that he barely caught her voice above the roar of the sea echoing through the caves; perhaps it were fate he just so happened to walk past the mouth of the tunnel just as she cried out.

No no no!

His tail curled, the fur along his nape rising as he turned to peer into the dark mouth of the cavern. Kvare had never quite made it past the mouths of more familiar caves in the Cerulean, had never quite cared for their darkness and dampness. But even he could not deny himself of the distressed sounds that came within, and though the tide had long begun to swell into the cave and the water reached halfway up his ankles, Kvare took the plunge in; and he weaved through the half-lidded darkness until he found her there, all things delightfully rosy and frantic.

Just what are you doing?

Lost something, Princess? he observes, his shoulder bracing against the slick wall of the tunnel as he watches her wade between the waters. Was she searching for something, did she lose something amid the tide? Perhaps she had simply gone mad.

@Tilly

Art by Raph, table by cala

Tilly watched helplessly as the tide snatched away her precious little gathering of things, scattering them about the cave and tunnel channels like a cruel thing. She still scurried to try retrieve them, splashing even as they were sucked from out under her toes by the deceitful sand.

Now thoroughly soggy from her frantic splashing, Tilly sniffled to what she had anticipated to only be herself. She watched her hard work get washed back out to the bay with a long and forlorn look, shoulders sagging.

The low voice that rose from one side surprised the woman, and she turned tearful eyes on the dark form leant casually against the water-worn limestone. Lip trembling as she tried her best to stave off the prickle of tears - for that wouldn’t be a very good impression to leave on a stranger - Tilly nodded sorrowfully.

“I had all these lovely shells,” she confided with a sniffle, “And now the water's sent them everywhere and I won’t be able to find them!” she swatted at the water’s surface in frustration. “Ugh!”

@Kvare

Shells.

She was upset over...shells?

Kvare bit his tongue to keep a burst of laughter at bay. How easy it would be to thrash about in the sands and throw up any number of shells, letting them scatter and sprinkle all about at @Tilly's delight. How cruel it was to imagine such a thing, to wear the guise of unrelenting bully simply so he wouldn't have to relent that touch of boyish youth. But Kvare were a man now, and despite the fact he'd grown so unruly and wild, even he knew better than to let the whims of untrained youth reclaim what should have long grown into a trained and loyal soldier.

Well it's your own fault, not thinking of the tide, he chided, though he knew he was wrong. Not everyone lives on a beach, Kvare, he could imagine his twin brooding, content to get the upper-hand on the more conniving Kvare. I could think of ten better things to do than this. He could get up to a hundred if he were really adamant, but he supposed it would perhaps be overkill.

One of the things, he thought, was coming back to Caladan. Would Gauthier not be pleased to see Kvare dragging unwilling—yet surprisingly pretty, despite the dampness of her thin fur, which grew more sparse aroudn her muzzle and belly—new lionesses back to his sandy clutches? There, she could have all the shells she wanted, with far less of the tumultuous tide to whisk them away.

Eventually, he sighed. Not today.

If you want shells, you should check further up this beach, he relented, finally prying himself from the wall of the cave and taking a few steps toward her, ankle-high water splashing in his purposeful wake. There's a pool that traps all sorts of trinkets.

Art by Raph, table by cala

Well it's your own fault, not thinking of the tide, chastises the dark stranger and Tilly pouts, a protest rising to her lips. “Well, I didn’t know-!” she fretted, paws sloshing in cool sea as she turns now to fully face him. Before further complaint can rise, what he says next does snag her curiosity. All woeful sniffling comes to a halt, and although still misty-eyed, her pink ears prick forward.

“…Like what?” Tilly prods, unable to resist asking. She would be the judge as to what was better than shells.

He is taller than she had initially thought, Tilly noticed, as @Kvare unmelds from the limestone and wades closer. She could see now he had a coppery hue to his fur - he was not all one dark colour like she had initially suspected.

And he appeared to be just the lion to ask, as not only does he know where more shells could be, but it was a place with far more promise. Tilly truly perked up. “I do very much like trinkets.” the woman admits, leaning forward with obvious interest. “You wouldn’t be able to show me this pool, would you?” she implored him with gold-blue eyes, her fresh optimism palpable.

It's almost...cute, the way she curls in response, the girlish demeanor with which she protests. Were Kvare younger, he might have swooned harder, might have been far more smooth in his response. But the weight of Caladan had bore heavy on him, his constant meanderings outside of the pride keeping him fettered to a more roguish lifestyle than he should be having. He and Kozrain had come here for power, and they were doing a piss-poor job of doing anything more than lounging aronud the Cove and preying on the fickle feelings of anyone who dare gave them a second glance. It was crass, and far strayed from the destiny that their mother and father had set them on.

...Like what?

Kvare paused, his expression twisting into something akin to Literally anything, what do you expect? but he, too, relented. How easier it would have been to have left her to her devices, to continue his lonely promenade down the beach, then make his way back to his lonely bed, and awake in the morning parading around the pride disguised as his brother. Something kept him here, fettered, and he wasn't entirely sure it was out of boyish curiosity alone.

Hm, well, we could fight, he mused as he continued closer, his exaggerated steps slowed by the waters he waded through. Eventually, when he closed the distance between them, he would seek to lift his paw close to her face, to attempt to drag one claw down her jawline. And when I win, I could drag you back to Caladan where you could do something useful, like hunting or patrolling.

There is a dark glower in his gaze, a heavy intensity that wasn't quite there before. But as soon as he finished his musing, it was gone all at once, and a clever smirk unfurled where there had once been a cold cruelty. Just kidding. But are you really, Kvare? Kozrain's been allowed his pretty things.

I'll take you there, he relented, lowering his paw so he could roll his shoulders, feigning a disinterested shrug. However menial the task seemed, it was at least something, and Kvare had not felt anything for the longest time. Turning, he began to make his way out of the cave, hoping that the pool hadn't been washed away in the passing storms. He lingered, glancing over his shoulder, making sure @Tilly followed.

Art by Raph, table by cala

Tilly is patient for his answer, her interest piqued and her eyes upon him. She finds the way his expression shifts amusing, a crinkle of her eyes and muzzle betraying her entertainment.

“We could fight”, he says and Tilly lifts a brow, considers it. She was no stranger to a tussle, but unpracticed in true brawling. Which did he mean? She doesn’t flinch from his touch, mellows under it as she scans his handsome features - the claw drawn down her jawbone a subtle display of power she is not frightened by.

“You could just ask nicely.” Tilly titters, “I don’t think I wish to be dragged, thank you. Though…” the name he had mentioned seemed - familiar? “Caladan… is that the- hm- a pride on the beach, right?” It has been many years since she had last heard of it, but foggy memories drift back.

There is a shift in his demeanour, slight but she sees it. It is enough of a distraction that he has agreed to show her this (surely wonderful) place and Tilly’s eyes brighten. “Oh! Thank you!” she enthuses, ankle-deep waves splashing as she trots after him. “I’m Tilly, by the way. It’s very kind of you to help.”

She’s privately pleased he seems to know his way out, as in her focused gathering, the woman realised all the tunnels seemed to look quite the same. “So- this Caladan place. Do you live there?” Conversational, nosy, it was all the same to Tilly.

He isn't sure what he expects of her. Everything she answers with is different from what he expects, and though Kvare is not often one to attempt to predict what a lioness would say or do, he'd had enough things thrown at him and enough swats to the face to know what could push another's buttons. And yet, she responded in stride; she seemed almost amused by him, as if content to brush off his brash remarks and instead humor him. Kvare, for his part, wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it; it frustrated him as much as it fascinated him, and he found himself compelled to stick around her presence more.

Even if she were just searching for shells. How nice it would be to see the shimmer of water bead on her rosy fur.

Dragging is more fun, he shrugged, a clever smirk curling on his lips. As they meandered slowly out of the cave and back into the open air, the sound of the whirring water grew far less intense, but the careening of seagulls above their heads swiftly replaced the nuisance. It would be quite boring if we just walked up together. But if I put you on my back and said you were a kidnapped princess? He could only imagine the look on Gauthier's face (and Kozrain's, too).

He pauses as she introduces herself. Half to look around, to try and recall where the pool was exactly; the other half to regard her, to match her name to her face and remember it for as long as he could. Kvare, he responded, before turning, picking the pace back up once he'd found his direction, Tollaire. Ah, yeah, that's important, too. For a man striving for power, he had certainly not been proactive about it. The almost laissez faire way Kvare carried himself made it seem as if he might be content growing fat off of fishing in Caladan forever.

He was careful as he navigated a final uphill, rocks wet with seawater and dangerous underfoot. Cautiously watching the placement of his paw, Kvare ascended the small slope, before turning and reaching out a paw for @Tilly to grab as she needed. Behind him, the pool sprawled; murky from the disrupted sand, with thousands of little shelled creatures running in and out of their small holes. I do, he answers as he waits (or helps her, if she'd needed it), It's a pride not far from here. You're a loner, I take it?

Art by Raph, table by cala

Tilly looks doubtful, at first, and then @Kvare puts a dramatic spin on the situation and amused interest darts across her strawberry features. “It would be quite the entrance.” she grins with mischievous consideration, tail swishing by her heels as they wade from flooded tunnel open, clear sky and the scent of brine.

She had always had a flair for the unusual, the dramatic. And masquerading as a princess… what a delight! Tilly was quite certain she could play the part. A little dragging might be worth it to sell the story.

Kvare, he answers as his own name and Tilly doesn’t miss the surname. She didn’t recognise it, no, but the fact he had designed to share it meant it likely held importance - to him? To others? She was curious. A striking name for a striking beast, at any rate.

So she follows, taking in the coastal scenery and the dark of his markings now they were in the light. Tilly is so very glad for the helping paw as they reach a difficult point of the ascend - she takes it gladly, murmuring, “Thank you.” as she hauls herself up with his aid onto barnacle-weathered stone beside him.

“I am.” Tilly confirms once she had settled her balance, surveying the gloomy, sandy depths of the saltwater pool with great interest. “But, I went to a challenge there once. Many years ago. I remembered the name.”

She glances up as she picks her way independently across damp rock. “What is a pride like? I hung out in a little gang of rogues, when I was younger. But never a pride.” Chatterbox that she is, she can't help but blurt out her thoughts as she seeks the prettiest shells.

He is delighted that @Tilly does not rebuke him, though seeing a reaction more sinister might have been equally entertaining to her agreement with his proposal. But something kept him fettered, the temptation to scoop her up and do just that fleeting enough that Kvare keeps himself grounded, focused on the path before them rather than what linger behind. His gaze lingered between the pool and her, the soft, shiny, and pinkish shells of hermit crabs glittering in the blistering sun above reminiscent to the way her own pelt seemed lighter here, her darkened muzzle accentuated by the strawberry that unfurls further along her cheeks and face.

But rather than dive right back into shell-collecting, she seems more eager to sit beside him, to continue their teasing chatter. This, he does not mind; though he might have found great amusement in her splashing about in the water once again, desperate in her hunt for shiny things. I've not had the pleasure of witnessing one yet, he recalls; his brief stint in Amaryllis before had been searching for his and Kozrain's mother, but by the time they had managed to figured out where she was residing, she was dead.

Ever since then, they've done nothing. The years had passed and Kvare was nameless, faceless, without the glory he'd always been promised.

It is small, for now. Inconsequential. Gauthier had managed to keep Caladan out of the crosshairs of most prides, but they'd had enough enemies and allies to find their place in the peninsula. However, there was a sneaking suspicion deep within him that something was about to change; they could not linger in the dark forever. We patrol our borders and fill our cache, but there's been little room to make a name for myself.

After all, his name was everything, wasn't it?

They're unaware I have a twin, he continues, divulging a truth he'd kept to himself all these months, and the real reason why he'd been laying in wait for so long. So whenever he's about, I leave and come here.

He wondered, idly, what her little gang of rogues had been like, where they were now. Strange, he thought, how often people came and went.

Art by Raph, table by cala