A part of him continued to feel the steady pull towards Ecrosia. It was only the constant reminder of his pain and his memories that stabbed at him, reminding him that it wasn't his anymore. The most pain he felt was the side of his lip and his right front "ankle". Shoulder had become so numb to the movements that he had done that it hardly seemed worth fretting over. Walking was difficult and he'd do with a limp for now, but in the very least he knew he'd be relatively safe. Keeping close to the Band but far enough away to not be a bother. He didn't wish to burden the Band with housing him until he was healed -- prideful and all that. So he kept on the outskirts near a fallen log. It wasn't the best cover but it was a lot better than laying out in the open.

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There was little that would keep the cub away from his Dad, and Thrain was pulled not only by boyish adoration for his Sire but curiosity. His mind was hungry for knowledge, as with all children, and he knew @Jafar was not quite himself after the stranger had come and fought him.

The scent of blood is raw in the air, though he knows not what it is.Thrain senses Jafar is still close, having had been following him loosely - no doubt, the bronze man knew of his son’s presence also. But he is small, a rock a mountain in the eyes of the youngster, and there begins a brief childish panic when he cannot see The King any more.

“Papa!” Where are you? _code

Jafar was busy looking out into the void of the Jungle, disassociating and keeping his breaths even and steady. Looking to the future and hoping that all went well for he would not be pushed down into the dirt and left forgotten; it wasn't his style. As a first-time father and his cubs barely over two months old, he felt it was his purpose to show them that life was not about failing but learning from that fall. So when @Thrain called for him, Jafar let out a deep chuff (straining the tender side of his cheek/lip). Just here, mi niño. My boy. Ever dutiful he wished for his children to see the truth and he wouldn't hide from it. A man had come for their home and his crown, but they would not take his dignity or his courage. There was so much more than that to be had but it also didn't limit his idea of desiring to be a King when he healed, either.

art by torriyi // code // do not use without permission

The racing of his small heart is eased as his fathers voice finds his ears, a series of desperate bounds bringing the child to the opposite side of the log @Jafar had chosen as shelter. But his eagerness settles as his instinct tells him something is not quite right, his childish bouncing becoming a cautious a belly-low sulk as he seeks to round the large, fallen tree to find his father.

He is afraid of being so close to him in that moment. He smelt less of love and warmth and more of sour metallic. Something unfamiliar. Purple gaze rests almost reluctantly upon the hulking man, seeing the wounds that marred his once vibrant features. He creeps slowly, cautiously, seeking to thud his forehead against his fathers chin in search of reassurance. _code

There is only silence as he waits for one of his prized sons to come to him. Waiting, rather impatiently, for the slow and excitable child to come to him but it was not excitement that greeting him. Instead, it looked to be a young child that was scared of what he was looking at. It's okay. A small offering that he didn't need to fear but he would not be quite as mobile as he usually is. Thankfully @Thrain moved forward and made an attempt to push his forehead against Jafar's chin. There was a wince as the pain ricocheted throughout his body from the movement but he contained it as best he could. He did not wish to hurt his child's desire to be close and comforted. More than that, he suffered greatly in the gray area where he wished to apologize to his son for failing. Not being able to say the words but also because he was quite certain that his children wouldn't quite understand. Ecrosia is not home anymore. We can't go back. Do you understand? It was important that he expressed to each of them that they were not to go into the Mire for anything. Anything; there was nothing in there worth going back for. If there was a lion or lioness, or a cub, that had stayed behind by their own choice then it was of no use to their future. Jafar had intentions to find Gawain and inquire about a temporary living situation until they could move to Obsidian. For now, this was what they would get.

art by torriyi // code // do not use without permission

He can sense the pain, though he can not recognise it as pain for a lack of true understanding. @Jafar had been victim to the needles of four teething youngsters, he had worn their bites of ferocity and been the scratching post for their sharpening claws. But today, a gentle head-bump makes him coil.

His words tumble about in a childish mind with little gravity. Thrain had not much thought about their home, it was perhaps just a backdrop to what truly mattered to a child’s heart - family. “Pa is broken?” The boy asks, pondering if Jafar meant home could no longer be reached due to an inability to actually get there.

Either way, he was far more distressed about the condition of his sire than an old Den. The bronze cub curls, seating his tail-less haunches somewhere between Jafar’s forelimbs, trying not to touch him, trying not to make him jolt again. _code

Broken. The word scratched across his mind like sandpaper. Rolling across it and brandishing anything and everything in its path. Not broken, just beat. Broken meant that there was little room to be piece back together but his condition was temporary. He'd been beaten down and cast out, but he could rebuild. Even though his pride had been small compared to others, he felt as though he had been making progress in the very least. Gathering allies and friends, despite sometimes not knowing how deep a loyalty ran. Jewel hadn't been seen since and hadn't come his way, so maybe she'd chosen her side. There was so much that he wanted to tell @Thrain but was concerned that most of it would simply go right over the child's head. That not of it would be aptly received as he might be led to believe. It was hard to remember that they were just mindless children sometimes who couldn't understand what he understood. With the quiet came the boy's interest in seating himself between his father's forelimbs and Jafar holds his head up and watches. Wishing nothing but the world for his children but as of now, they had nothing to their name. That was the most hurtful part was that these were such crucial months in their development and they would see their father at the bottom.

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Perhaps his father had forgotten how little title or property mattered to a child, as Thrain could not know what troubled the usually impenetrable force that was his Padre. His seat between the limbs of the man was not warm and comforted as it usually was, and though he sought so deeply not to hurt his father, it is with a childish need to feel secure that the boy will place a tiny paw against the blood-crusted skin of @Jafar 's ankle.

An upwards glance towards his sire's head, seeking something within his face, something that was more reassuring than the words he struggled to understand. "Why?" he is unsure if it is a question of beat, or a question of his fathers pain, the look of worry in his eyes or the harsh stink that was the blood against his skin. Perhaps, it was a question of all of it. It was so much. Why had this happened? Who was that angry, pale man? _code

Throughout his many years he had come to be a very emotionally controlled individual. A male who didn't speak a whole lot of words and did so only when absolutely necessary, but there were a few close individuals in his life that he opened himself up to when opportunity came. Maia happened to be one of those few that were able to see the softer version of him, the one that cared deeply. By extension and now forever, it would be his children -- yes, even the smaller, weaker ones -- would be granted that same kindness. They wouldn't realize it until they were older but there would be moments when saving face was important. Being with his children was a kindness in itself. Being a safety net for @Thrain in this moment felt like peace and quiet. A moment where he truly felt like he was still a King in his eyes and he still had a purpose, even if it wasn't as grandiose. Lions crave control, mi niño. He answered, moving his chin gently forward to lick slowly (and carefully) at the sprouting furs on top of his sons' head. The lion that fought me wanted control of our home. It is what is natural in our world. Tongue retreated back into his mouth as he exhaled hot breath, taking a moment to feel the weight of his explanation sink in. Only after contemplating the words he was going to say next did he attempt to twist his head so that he could see what his boys reaction might be. To see if Thrain understood on any level. Even if it was miniscule, Jafar would take it. Just so long as his boy was listening, that was all that mattered. He didn't need to understand but it was important that it sink in and stick.

art by torriyi // code // do not use without permission

He had tried to be a man, a man as great and as fearsome as his father was. He had stood by the exposed talons of Ransom in the wake of that pale lion, shown him he was big and tough. But it seemed it hadn't helped. @Jafar was not himself, something had changed within him. Upon his words, "Control," Thrain would repeat, wrapping his tongue thoughtfully around the word, "Like when Mama sends us to bed?" Was that control?

The gentle groom of his father upon his scruff was warming, calming, and he leans into it with a quiet purr - a noise hardly intentional. But soon, he will feel the pause, the gentle heat radiating from his Padre's gaze, and the youngster seeks to meet it; peering up with childish wonder, marveling inwardly about the sheer size of his father - The King - and how one day, he would be as big and as brave as he was. Gently he leans, fanning tiny whiskers, cocking ink-masked head in wait. _code