The sound of the sea and the winging of gulls saw that he enjoyed the ocean but not quite - perhaps- as much as the lagoon was surrounded. So, standing beyond the borders - not crossing them, the large male would chuff to call for the leaders of this place. Perhaps he would find this location better to his tastes and his liking than his previous home.
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
The sound of the sea and the winging of gulls saw that he enjoyed the ocean but not quite - perhaps- as much as the lagoon was surrounded. So, standing beyond the borders - not crossing them, the large male would chuff to call for the leaders of this place. Perhaps he would find this location better to his tastes and his liking than his previous home.
She has never known anything but the sea, the sand, and the golden cliffsides of the Cove. Even the year she spent in her ancestral homelands paled in comparison to Caladan's glory. The one thing Thaïs can hardly tolerate, however, is the slog of sand that clings to her thick, plumy fur after a dip in the water. The sun's reflections off its gentle, shallow waves had been all too tempting, and she only regretted going for a swim after she emerged, shuddering and perturbed.
Her fur, slick and dampened, hugged the curves that had begun to fill out since her return to the pride. No matter how much she fussed her pelt dry, damp sand tangled the thick furls without relent.
And how embarrassing it is to be caught in such a manner by a stranger.
Mercifully, Thaïs has the advantage. The grasses are just tall enough to conceal her sprawled form, but she has mere moments before he's certain to notice her. Every part of him screams hopeful recruit—what with his polite chuffs and respect of the borders—but even the most well-intentioned would not be spared her games.
She leaps from the grasses, attempting to barrel right into Darhke. Tall and bulky as he is, she has only the advantage of surprise to aid her in her attempt to knock him onto his back, with her paws splayed on either side of his head.
Hello, darling,
she purrs, You arrived just in time.
She was growing mighty tired of having to groom herself.
@Darhke
Please tag me after fourteen days.
Shee is open to premade plots as well as unplanned threads.
She is open to any IC consequences.
"That so...?" The beast would rumble, his bodice shifting to get a little more comfortable upon the sands, shifting to attempt to roll to his side. "Are your leaders about?" He rumbled, his tone belying nothing of the internal way he felt about being greeted in such a way. The beast would attempt to gain his footing - to shake off the sandy female with the same bland expression upon his visage, his internal thoughts kept on a short, tightly held leash.
It wasn't the first female that had thrown herself onto him in an overly obvious attempt to gain his attentions in whatever manner. Something the wheaten male was well aware of in his travels. Still - he would give her the benefit of the doubt in that she was simply blind and couldn't run in a straight line.
That so...? he rumbles, and Thaïs staggers to accommodate his shift beneath her. Despite their difference in size and strength, she is agile and light-footed, maintaining a graceful balance despite her damp, downy fur. Are your leaders about?
She quirks a brow, mocking offense. How do you know I am not the queen?
And what a terrible first impression he would have made, if she were. Thaïs would accept nothing less than groveling—she has spent far too long in the shadows of men to not be entitled to their fealty and respect. But she doubts even this stranger could ignore the collar around her neck, and the brother-king who holds the leash.
She wrenches herself free of him entirely, putting an easy distance between them. The visage of mischief she wears betrays the war beneath, but a reminder of Drauhir's warning echoes in her head and keeps her tempered.
The man is strong, able-bodied, older—likely wiser. The no-nonsense expression he wears tells her he is not likely to entertain the idea of empty promises and affections in return for a well-earned bath. If he is here to join, then he is likely one they wouldn't—shouldn't—turn down.
They'll be here soon,
she finally resigns, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Are you here to join, or have you news to bring?
@Darhke
Please tag me after fourteen days.
Shee is open to premade plots as well as unplanned threads.
She is open to any IC consequences.
It was a simple answer, really. She did not smell like either of the two primary scents that traced the borders of the Oceanside pride. "I'm here to join - unless you are of course full up. Then I would continue my wanderings elsewhere." the beast would rumble, shifting to once more sit upon his haunches in the sands he nearly blended into.
Quickly she dropped the creature that had been dangling from her jaws to the earth, she could recover it later. Instead of being on her meal her full attention was now firmly on the new strangers. Hello there friends! the woman would call out as she made to shorten the distance between her in quick strides. As she neared she offered either of them a smile, trying her best to assess who they were - she didn’t pretend to know everyone in the pride, and this whole “rank” thing was still proving to have its challenges. The lioness had at least the faint scent of the cove on her, maybe? But she didn’t think she smelled it on the man. I’m Rose, are you both new here? she questioned - deciding it best just to ask.
Clever, and strong—and broody. Perhaps he'd share kinship with her equally atrabilious king. He confirms her suspicions that he is here to join, and though she'd like to scrutinize any potential recruit and believe that they all had machinations behind those hopeful eyes, that ulterior motives are more common than not, she resigns herself to a quiet acceptance. Much as she would prefer men who groveled, it is not her choice to make.
The felicity with which Rose arrives is a fierce detraction to Darhke's chilly indifference and Thaïs's machiavellian bravado. She is a tenderheart so bursting and bright that it nearly makes the once-princess's eyes roll. This one must have slipped through the cracks—or her brother has an odd taste in women. The latter she would be certain to browbeat him on.
This land was my father's, now it is my brother's,
she replies scathingly, her eyes flitting between either stranger, Someday, it will be mine.
Oh, but how she loves stirring the pot.
She lifts a single paw, inspecting her extended claws with an almost bored expression. For all her time spent guarding her brother's border, she'd had none to take care of the sand still lodged between her toes, and she didn't see either Rose nor Darhke eager to fawn and pamper.
Rose, would you be a good girl and let this man into the pride?
Assuming the girl had the rank to, but Thaïs loves making bold assumptions. Few else would be answering the call. I doubt Drauhir will disapprove of another strong soldier—or are you a hunter? A scout?
@Darhke @Rose
Please tag me after fourteen days.
Shee is open to premade plots as well as unplanned threads.
She is open to any IC consequences.
The beast did look towards Rose, however, his lips twining into a smile. "I would like to join, still.. however if you will have me.. I'm quite tired of the nomadic life." It wasn't bad - but it certainly wasn't his cup of tea.
There were many questions still in her head, just she nodded just the same. Being a nomad does get tiring. she agreed l, having lived the first portion of her life as one. I’m sure the sovereignty would be very happy for you to join us, so you’re welcome to do it. You’ll have to prove yourself to the king for a rank though, we don’t have a lead scout that I’m aware of to introduce you too, so king Drauhir or queen Pyrrha will have to be the ones to promise you if that’s your desire. she explained before letting her eyes drift between the two lions again. Sorry, I don’t think I caught either of your names?
Though, he had to agree with her about the nomadic lifestyle being rough and not for everyone - and getting boring. "Agreed. It does tend to get boring." He muttered, his voice sounding a little amused.