The sandy dunes of Maua's Passage peek up just past the large, rocky cliffs that stand in competition with Caladan Cove, and in turn Scilla's Lagoon. His home. Bjorn's affection for the oasis stems from the family's long travels from far beyond, crossing the stony pathway over the ocean, determined for a better and freer life from the Grave's previous home in a land beyond Amaryllis. Bjorn remembers the challenging journey, the way his paws ached, and almost losing a few family members to the angry, hungry ocean. I can't carry you all, his mother hissed as she demanded her children stand on their own four paws and make the journey like the young warriors bred and raised before them. Bjorn and his entire family made it, safely, to the mouth of Maua, setting up a small clan in the heart of the lagoon furthest to the east. But now, Bjorn feels determined to prove himself a noble and brave fighter, capable of plotting and journeying these vast, mysterious lands of Amaryllis. Perhaps, too, he can return to his family with a badge of pride and honor unseen in men before him. And so, Bjorn set out on his journey, his large paws creating ripples in the sandy earth as he bounds forward, weight causing the ground below his paws to tremble. White ears perked, it's almost as if he can feel the wind rushing through his practically non-existant mane, heart beating with eagerness for adventure and mystery. What lay beyond the lagoon? Where will Maua's destiny for him lead? The path untraveled and unexplored, Bjorn feels only hope and opportunity for his life ahead. As he leaves the palm line, the ground changes. Gone are the soft, saturated piles of sand, shifting into a hard, crusty rock, and finally stone. Rocks replace the fan-like trees, reaching high into the sky, their shadow cast over what feels like a great wasteland. Bjorn's ears droop, and he lowers his tail anxiously, alert at the slightest sounds. The flap of wings, the caw of crows, or even the growl of threatening lions displeased by trespassers onto their land. There is a small pool of water, apparently dug out by a warthog or other creature. From what he can see and smell, fresh water isn't close by, so Bjorn takes the opportunity to lean down and lap at what he can, dirt filling his cheeks, brought in by his prickled, virgin tongue used to the sweet, tangy taste of coconut milk. He grimaces, sitting and gazing around as if searching for any souls nearby who might direct him to a cleaner water patch. But when no one shows themselves in the moments of Bjorn's curiosity, he's rising to his paws and padding forward, crystaline eyes locked on the tall, obsidian-colored towers of rock and hardened soot. A mouse skitters between his paws. Thinking this a grand opportunity, Bjorn smashes his paws onto the ground, pinning the mouse to the earth by it's tail. The creature squeaks and scurries, but its efforts are frutless. Bjorn has half-a-mind to kill the creature but... after a few moments of staring, lifts his paw and watches the poor rodent run for its life, jumping into a nearby thorn bush.

Oh - a newcomer.

The golden woman watched from her distant, towering obsidian home, the nook in her little part of the Hollow allowing her to peak outside, pale gaze raking the ragged earth.

He was like a strike of lightning against the dusty earth - young, silver-grey, no clue where he truly was. Had they not put up enough markers? Dia hummed to herself, slight frown curling across her maw - she knew she shouldn't go out to see him, but her ears twitched forwards and her heart fluttered with excitement. Before she could protest, her delicate clawless feet were padding softly against the smooth stone floor, winding through narrow passage ways and finding her way outside. By now, she knew the paths of this place substantially - you just had to follow the wind.

Dia peered out from an outcropping, shining pelt a start contrast to the sleek dark backdrop behind her, watching as the man - well, boy - trotted forwards, blue eyes ablaze, no fear to be found lining his spine. She wondered what Gwyn would have to say about that.

The woman toyed with her lip, pawing the earth, before venturing out into full view of the stranger, cutting a petite shape against the rock. She hoped her prescence would be enough to make him stop a fair distance away. Her lithe body was relaxed in posture, welcoming enough, but her tail twitched with anticipation like a ticking clock as she watched him through her lidded gaze.

"I wouldn't go any further, if I were you." she warned, delicate voice curling through the air as she sauntered up to him, languid in her movements. A tiny thrill beat its wings behind her ribs. "Our King may call you a trespasser, and rip you to shreds."

Bjorn never considered himself a child. Larger than his brothers and his sisters, Bjorn stood out as the brute of his family even as a young cub, growing into his paws far behind his elder siblings. The first born in his litter, Bjorn knew power and prestige and the validating lick of his mother's tongue just between his eyes, causing his pre-mane to stand erect with saliva. Even as a yearling, Bjorn was larger than a lot of lions he knew, although colossals certainly weighed more pound-for-pound. The femenine voice echoes against tall, black towers, and the ground rumbles under his paws. Bjorn's ears perk, muscles bunching, but when the female slides into view and out of the shadows he sheathes his claws. His shoulders drop. She's small - exceptionally petite with the bluest, widest eyes he's ever known. Bjorn blinks back, and at first he says nothing, allowing the lioness safe passage into his own, broad shadow, helped forward by the massive mounds behind him. 'I wouldn't go further, if I were you.' Tempted to question, Bjorn opens his maw but abruptly closes it when he realizes... he's nowhere worthy of a battle. She's older, and probably better established. Certainly only a fool would go claw-to-claw with a pride cat. That so? Bjorn does his best to mask anxiety in his quivering voice. Your king sounds mighty and brave. He tips his head, a sign of mild respect, though his gaze never leaves hers; whether for her beauty or his self-protection, the answer remains unclear. My name is Bjorn Grave. I live with my family in the lagoon at the far end of the Island. I seek safe passage and potential inauguration to your Pride.

Anxiety was restless behind her eyes but she didn't let it show. Underneath the simmering facade of a femme fatale she was still just a girl. Small weak useless. But to this stranger, colossal and strong though he was, she was at least a year his senior, and she had a pride behind her to boot. That was where her confidences lay - one loud signal and she was sure others would come running to her aid.

Intrigued, she watched as he seemed to unwind as she stepped closer, tension bleeding out of his muscular form. Inwardly, she grinned. To have such power as this now - she was quickly realising her soft form was a blessing, not a curse.

She watched, unblinking as he introduced himself, the corner of her mouth tipping up at the mild quiver in his voice as he ducked his head out of respect for their leader. The stranger gave her his name - Bjorn Grave. She wrapped her mind around it, unlike anything she'd ever heard before. It suited him though - a strange name for a strange steel coloured creature such as he. This close, she spied the little white stripes binding his ankles, the slow fulfilment of what would come to be a snowy white mane atop his head and neck. He was certainly not bad-looking - when he was grown he may very well even be handsome.

Not making an effort to hide her inspection of him, she dared to toe the line a bit farther, and circled him a little less than ninety-degrees, eyeline skating over the lines of his young body. He was strong. A potential asset to their pride.

"Bjorn..." she murmured, musical lilt winding around the y sound and looping through the o, tasting the name on her tongue as though it were a fine wine. "You're certainly right." she began, "Gwyn is mighty. He's not brave though," she flashed a glance up to his eyes, just a little bit playful, and a tiny bit drunk on the small amount of power she had here. "You don't need bravery when you've nothing to fear, after all."

So, he wanted to join them in this little hollow? Dia knew she could invite him, but she didn't have the authority to make it official. "Why?" she asked, polite but curt, "What makes you wish to join us, Bjorn Grave?"

Her question makes him momentarily falter. Blue eyes of his own locked onto hers, Bjorn takes a pause to think about his answer. Why does he wish to join, and has he any concept of what he's walking into? Most his young life he's scorned pride cats, claiming one sells their soul and their freedom to a king. Not all are merciful, not all are grand, but the life of a rogue? Is it any better? Bjorn can't be sure. He peers at the lioness, eyes narrowed as if desperate to read a subliminal message he missed before, but Bjorn's only met with her seductive, sky-shaded eyes. Truly captivating her gaze is, like the crystalline-surface of an untouched lake. She blinks softly, and Bjorn feels his heart thud in his chest. What is this? Why is he so... drawn to her? Bjorn takes a nervous step towards the seductress. I wish to make my family proud, he finally mutters. I've come from far lands. My mother moved us to Amaryllis when I was still small. I lost my father, and my siblings are all I have left. The answer, while not very compelling, is the best explanation he can think of. The brute drops his head, bowing respectfully before the pride lass. But the life of an untamed rogue is not for me. I hope... perhaps... a pride will bring with it honor and valor, that my family has missed since my father's passing. Truly, they are more of a clan than a pride, but... Bjorn needs order. Reassurance. A purpose. And so I've come here from the lagoon searching for who may take me? Bjorn does his best not to distract himself with her beauty, though his tail twitches eagerly. His pupils must be round discs by now, and he can feel the saliva gathering in his jowls. May I meet your king? If I must pass a test, I am willing. Just let me have you. Perhaps, though, only a teenage fever dream.

He is meandering back to his den, passing by the outer reaches in case Dia was around and need to scratch an itch once more. Instead of finding her ready and waiting he finds her scent trailing from the den where he had deflowered her. Pleasantly his own scent lingers ever so slightly with hers, even now. Following it to another window he finds her confronting a yearling. One who did not entertain the concept of his borders, but, she seemed to have it in hand. He is inclined to forgive him, at least in part, of his transgression for the moment. Just until he joins them both.

He finds the same hidden exit she used, forcing himself through the much closer to Dia sized hole. Watches and waits as he listens to their conversation for a beat before simply... appearing. Hulking man summoned from the depths of a labyrinthine hell. Balefire fixes on the strange youth, coming up alongside the petite woman and dragging teeth and fang across her neck in an affectionate, possessive nibble. Still staring at the yearling. "You have failed your introduction to me, of your family, for wandering over the borders. Why should I not chase you from my lands?" he queried, voice quiet. Still staring, glaring, his muzzle shifting from the woman he had deflowered to the young man. He had not failed to notice their flirting. His reaction to the small woman beside him. He makes his point bluntly, with little care for what fragile childish feelings the boy may have. She is his, this is his, and you have so far won my ire with your behavior. Why should he allow this stranger to join when he did not respect the rules he had set out? He is pleased with Dia's ownership of the situation, and would tell her once he had dealt with the insolate wretch before them.

Code by Saph Image by Kairi

Sorry had the energy for it so I had to reply. Crow you know you are a welcome XD
@Dia @Zagan @Bjørn

Never think that the reason I’m peaceful

Is because I don’t know how to be violent

They’d already failed. They’d taken too long to notice the scent of their brother slipping away. Having gone on a walk while the rest of the family slept. After they had come back, they noticed the trail of their brother’s was a bit faded, noticing he’d gone quite far. Then, they’d started walking in that direction, before noticing that it was going towards pridelands. Rune had half a mind to pause and wait for a higher up to greet him but there was little time, instead, he let out a loud warning chuff across the borders. They moved swiftly across them, keeping track of where their brother had been heading. Worry pulling at their stomach. What an idiotic teen! Gods above, they hoped their brother had not been injured or worse.

They suddenly find his brother and two other lions. A couple, it seemed. One a great, hulking beast made of clay. The other a small, bright woman. He came up beside his brother, having half a mind to cuff Bjørn’s ear. They dipped their pale mane respectfully to the male, sending a silent glare to Bjørn before he spoke. “I am so sorry sir, I hope my younger brother has not caused any trouble?” The question was clear in his voice and mismatched eyes. He waited patiently for an answer. Nodding to the blonde female as well, though not as much respect as for… who he assumed was the King. Foolish boy, you could have been ripped to shreds! Still could, along with himself. Always so eager to live up to their father. To be a brave and unabashed warrior. Rune knew that sometimes you just had to play your cards right to survive.

@Bjørn @Dia @Gwyn

code by corvus

KNEEL TO THE CROWN       The chase for the rabbit had left the colossus both breathless and frustrated. And bruised, though he wouldn't show it. A paw swiped over his tender muzzle, a snarl of pain erupting in reaction. Pale eyes glared at the small hole beneath the rock he had just slid face-first into. "Next time, little morsel." Shaking the loose sand from his mane, Zagan huffed and turned to return home. Definitely not to sulk at his failure.       The approach was halted as the forms of gathered lions were spotted. Gwyn and a lioness whose name he didn't know squared off with two males. Right. Time to get tactical. Despite the scene still holding peace, non-Casimir males at the Hollow's order could mean trouble at any moment. For the strangers, but, still. Zagan lifted his head and nodded at Gwyn to express his intent, exaggerating his gesture so that it would be seen at the distance. So long as his father didn't make it clear he was behind the two males, Zagan could get into prime position.       The clay-clad colossus dropped into a hunter's crouch. Measured steps picked their way over the terrain until he was within a leap and a lunge of the two. Behind them, as he came the same way they had. But he slipped just behind a stone, crouching to keep his profile low. He lifted his head only enough to keep eyes on the situation. If he attacked, he would need to go over the rock and take another leap before he could reach them, but it was the best cover for ambush he could do at the moment. 271 words | @Dia, @Bjørn, Gwyn, Rune STAND IN THE SUN hail to the king

Bjorn answered, but Dia didn't have much to respond before the entirety of the isle seemingly showed up on the Hollow's doorstep. Bubble popped, moment shattered, Gwyn first appeared behind her, looming like a shadow, his toothy welcome accepted happily as she purred in approval, pushing into his affections as he slid past. Her thoughts drifted briefly back to their time together in her little nook of the hollow, making her face flush, as if she had a secret she was hiding from the rest of the world.

The moment passed quickly though, Gwyn sweeping forwards to speak with Bjorn like a tidal wave crashing into the shore. The golden woman cast a slightly worried glance at the steel coloured male, hoping Gwyn would go easy on him - the boy was just trying to find a place to belong after all, and after the death of his father no less. Dia wanted Bjorn to see the apology in her eyes, mouthing a silent "I'm sorry," at him before shifting gracefully to the side to allow the King to rightfully confront the newcomer to his land.

Dia hoped she hadn't angered the King with her flirtatious antics - she'd simply been trying something new, and she'd rather liked it. And she couldn't deny the hot feeling that rippled through her as Gwyn made his ownership of her clear. It felt good to be wanted, even in such a degree.

Then another appeared - a bronze coloured beast, around Dia's own age, seemingly taking responsibility for Bjorn's bold introduction to the Hollow. The bronze one briefly acknowledged Dia's existence with a nod, pleading with the King to forgive their transgressions. Dia felt a wave a guilt wash over her. If Bjorn were to be hurt because of her inability to usher him straight to the border...

And then, the final - another boy, nodding at Gwyn as he crept behind the other two. He looked familiar to Dia, and as he snuck upon the now two strangers, she figured he must be part of the Hollow, known to them. Still, she couldn't help but become defensive - this was now three potential strangers facing both her and her Sovereign. Dia was not anything if loyal, and if she had to fight to protect her King she would, clawless or not. She bristled, coming to stand by Gwyn's side should he let her, her head lowered, her eyes drawn into a mild scowl - still in subordinance to her leader, but there at his request should he have need of her. She didn't feel Bjorn would be of any worry, but the older one and the third behind, she wasn't so sure.

@Rune @Gwyn @Bjørn @Zagan

Charmed. He feels... charmed, above all other feelings, as his eyes follow Dia's, heart fidgeting in his chest. Her beautiful smile seemed almost seductive but then again - what did Bjorn know, anyway? Females never tickled his fancy, and at a year old the masculine energy only just began flowing through his veins. Taken by her Bjorn certainly is, but the young lion knows very little about dating and... mating, and less about the birds and the bees than most. Still, his imagination runs wild, thinking of the two of them prancing and frolicking in a field of flowers, tumbling down the side of a hill, falling on his back as she licks his cheek and stares wantingly at him and-- The fantasy breaks. Another male steps forward, this one big and intimidating. His mane is full, coat the color of a blood-soaked bank. He has dark, piercing orange eyes that seem to stare through Bjorn with the most disgusted look. Instinctively the young lion wants to curl into a defensive ball, claws exposed, but he regretfully refuses such submissions. I didn't expect to see anyone, admits Bjorn honestly, ducking his head and glancing away from the large brute. His father said if Bjorn encountered a foe too strong to fight, the appropriate response was to turn another cheek, offering flesh to claw and punish. Still, Bjorn doesn't understand why, but his father certainly had his methods. I was only here to-- All at once Bjorn is cut off by the sound of heavier paws. Glancing behind him, he winces visibly at the sight of his older brother, Rune. Quickly, Bjorn flicks his blue gaze back towards the King and Dia, who seems smitten and all-adoring. A flash of bright white heat flashes over Bjorn's neck and chest, claws popping out instinctively but sheathe quickly as soon as he remembers his manners. Dia... and... this cat? Together? His heart feels as if its breaking. Perhaps he should temper his thoughts more and wait for his mother to match him. Yet, Bjorn foolishly believed love might lie right around the corner; caught up in his daydream, he did not even consider Dia's owner. Foolishly, Bjorn glances down, and shoots Rune and angry glare. The cuff doesn't seem to faze him. What are you doing? Why aren't you back with Mother and the others? And yet more came. Bjorn catches sight of another claymation, and his muscles bunch in anxiety. What has he done? Has he led himself to his own death. Please... Bjorn begs, suddenly feeling small and helpless against the wall of manes, tails, and claws. I just... thought... But what was he thinking, after all? Bjorn wants something more than what he has. A purpose, and he feels a pride might give him one. But to leave his family completely behind? Thought maybe... I'd... visit? The young lad's never been known for such nervousness, but against the backdrop of these warriors, positioned behind his older brother, Bjorn feels no stronger than a newborn cub.