[PRP] Jungle Style (Sheska x Maua)

[Hopefolly]

Sheska seldom met a stranger, and not in the wholesome family values way. Literally, there was never anyone around. The part of the jungle she'd taken to must have been too cluttered with vines, leaves, and critters to justify the effort it would take to call it home, temporary or otherwise. Wending through the mess took twice as long as the plains she had occupied previously and was considering returning to. Deep in her bones she loved the jungle, but the benefits of living there fell short of her standards. The vagaries of the weather she could brave without complaint, and even the birds -- she had always felt the jungle had the most bothersome birds -- were tolerable. But when your privacy started feeling more like a quarantine it was time to go somewhere more populated.

Tomorrow, in the morning, she would make the journey. For the night, she trotted swiftly around those same trees that made it so unappealing as if this place was a maze she herself had constructed. Her residency had indeed been long enough she knew the ins and outs of the area in pronounced detail.

Up ahead, she'd dodge a vine that had smacked her in the face her second night here. After that, she'd pass a pile of bird carcasses (you're welcome), avoid the thorny bush that she wasn't proud to admit had stuck her twice, and finally make it down to the stream. There wasn't much to it, but it sufficed as a source of drinking and bathing water.

She had seen all kinds of creatures there, but never another of her kind. The irony was not lost on her that she'd encounter a lion the night before she left because there were no lions. Eager for small talk, any at all -- starved for it, you could say -- she didn't immediately notice his poor condition or the pitiful way he carried himself.

She approached him anxiously and asked, "Are there more of you?"

Oh, if only.
 

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua nearly jumped as high as a toad leaping from the jaws of a crocodile. The young male whipped around, grey eyes wide with fright, turning towards the source of the sudden voice. He hadn't started to go crazy, had he? Maua had heard horror stories from his parents about lions that stayed too long in the jungle. They started hearing voices and seeing things that weren't there. They talked to thin air and were apparently led to their deaths by beautiful spirits.
He had never thought of them as more than stories, but lately Maua was beginning to second guess his own sanity. It probably had to do with the fact that he had been on his own ever since coming out on his self-exile. The lion had virtually become part of the jungle, snow-white fur covered in dirt and mud, bits of plants and vines clinging to his mane.
His eyes settled on a lioness, very much real and not in his imagination, trotting towards him. Maua took a step back, giving her a wary once-over. Had he invaded on her territory? Maua could have sworn he didn't smell any scent markers, but there was a possibility that he could have missed them. "No, there aren't. Just me." He answered, trying to keep her at a safe distance.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Sheska jerked her head back. For an instant, her ears pinned against her skull and her claws dug into the dirt. In time to keep her dignity in tact, she expelled the tension from her posture and gave her shoulders a little shake. Everyone was startled at some point, but she'd never seen such a dramatic presentation of it.

Her remarks about his appearance (and smell, hmph!), while imminent, were delayed by concern for her own. In all her days, no one had retreated from her this way. The idea she would attack another lion like some sort of barbarian was so ludicrous she didn't even consider it, instead fretting she had some foul odor or something on her face that made standing close to her so undesirable.

The truth was quickly obvious and she had figured it out before he answered her.

"No, there aren't. Just me."

After that, Sheska expected him closely-- every vine, every matted patch of fur. She wasn't a pessimist, but judgmental? Yes. Very much. Her perception of him made her wonder if -- "Were you exiled?" she asked sharply.

Just as she could not comprehend someone fearing her, neither could she accept that someone would allow themselves to become... this, simply because they were a rogue. She expected him to start sobbing, to tell her a story about how his mate and six cubs had died; how his pride had disbanded after a fire. Anything to absolve himself of being branded an inexcusable slob.
 

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Just letting you know that I usually don't reply on Mondays and Fridays since I have class from 8:30 to 6:30 at night and then have club meetings on both of those nights after dinner.

Maua's eyes widened with fear. How had she known? He looked back and forth, searching for an escape route. Maybe she had come from his old pride, sent by his parents to kill him. Or maybe it was one of Niliua's old friends, here to take revenge. Or maybe...or maybe she was just looking for him. Maybe Purua was searching for him. Surely his brother couldn't have believed what their parents had told him?
He swallowed thickly, ready to run at any moment. "I was. Many moons ago." Maua replied. "Why do you ask?" He ventured. He hadn't considered that this female could very well be just another rogue wandering the jungle like him. Though then again, the jungle was not a very hospitable place to live in. It still astounded Maua that he had lasted this long, considering where he had started from. Perhaps the gods had taken pity on him and were keeping him safe. It was a better thought compared to the alternative, that the gods were keeping him in this dreadful place to make him suffer slowly and painfully. He visibly shuddered at the thought.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

No problemo.

Why did she ask? This guy was just tragic. The only thing worse than looking like a such a mess was being in denial about it. Sheska sighed like maybe his mother had once upon a time when she was disappointed in him. "You look the type," she told him gingerly. Her tone was kinder than the words. Those struck with blunt force. "Lucky for you, I'm not the type to bully." (Yeah, right.)

Before she dared try to approach, she surveyed him to try and make some kind of step-by-step plan. Very, very difficult to choose which disaster needed immediate attention. She figured a male like him was no good without a clean mane, so she'd start there.

"Stop being so jumpy so I can clean you up some. You're making the jungle look bad with this nonsense."  

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua looked from side to side, momentarily confused. Him? She hadn't meant him, right? To be honest, Maua wasn't sure if it was even possible for him to be clean ever again. He slumped his shoulders and lowered his head a little, giving the female another wary glance. Why would she even want to clean him anyways? He should just turn around and run. Maua didn't have any doubts that he knew the jungle better than this stranger.
And yet...Maua found himself sitting down slowly, giving the female silent permission to come closer. All he could look at was her purple fur, striped with the highlight and shadows of the jungle's light. Her coat reminded him of his beloved brother, his one confident and protector. Maua couldn't even remember the last time he had seen Purua. What would he look like now? How big was he now? Had his mane grown in finally? Was he a general now, like their father had been? The pink male shook the thoughts away. This female was not Purua, no matter how much Maua wanted her to be.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Could he ever hope to be presentable again? But of course. It wouldn't be an easy chore, nor one completed without rallying patience from the tips of her ears to her claws. The reward for her efforts would be a job well done, smug satisfaction, and though she didn't know it yet, a pretty face.

Sheska concentrated intensely on her work. The mane was going to take longer than her original estimate, so she made a choice: change strategies. If he could see his face unsullied, it might provide some inspiration to keep it that way.

She licked his cheeks and splashed him (gently) with the water when absolutely necessary. Spitting was crude, but one must do what one must do to keep their throat from clogging with dirt and grime.

With that small section of his coat polished, she admired her work and him. "There now, see. You're a handsome thing under all that, aren't you? What a waste to stay filthy."  

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua flinched slightly as the female licked his cheek, ears heating up at the compliment. He didn't think anyone had ever called him handsome before. The male wasn't sure how to react to the compliment. Maua's grey eyes stared at the female. Perhaps...perhaps he should say thank you? "Thank you," He murmured, voice barely above a whisper. He hunched down a little more, unsure if it had been the right thing to say.
The lion glanced at the female again. She was going through all this trouble to clean him up, and Maua didn't even know her name! Though he didn't know the first thing about how to talk to girl, he was certain a name would probably help. "What's your name?" His voice was louder, though still soft. If his voice got too loud, he was positive he would sound like a swamp toad.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Sheska and modesty had been at odds with each other for years. She and manners had an on-again-off-again relationship. "Thank you, dear." There was no lack of vainglory in her tone, though it was thinly-veiled behind a sincere appreciation. In her opinion, the plan was a success, and now she braved the disorder of his mane.

In the midst of pulling out dozens of twigs and leaves, she heard him ask her name. "Sheska," she replied. "No nicknames. I dislike them. And who are you?"  

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua flinched a little as the hair in his mane was tugged and pulled. Sheska. It was a pretty name. Maua wondered if it had any family significance, as his own name did. The thought brought about a pang of homesickness. He wasn't really a part of the family anymore. The male wondered if that meant he should change his name. But he couldn't imagine being anyone other than Maua.
"Maua," He croaked. Well then, it appeared as if his toad theory had been correct. His ears flattened in embarrassment. After clearing his throat a little, the lion asked another question. "Are you from around here?  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Maua? Short and sweet. That suited him. Sheska nodded in approval of the name, though it would have just appeared as her acknowledging it. She had not spent her whole life learning to multi-task for nothing, and as the conversation carried on, so did her work.

"The jungle? Yes. Not so much this part... maybe not even this jungle." Sheska scowled at a sharp twig buried in the bundle of hair by his shoulder. Come on now. How had he not felt that poking at him? "You remind me--" she started, but was cut short by the efforts to retrieve the miniature stick.

Mission accomplished. She spit it onto the ground. "--You remind me of those sea lions with this mane. Is that where you're from?"  

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua glanced back as something was removed from his mane, relieving a pressure on his shoulder that he hadn't felt until it was gone. The male rolled his shoulders experimentally. He was much more comfortable now.
The sea? Maua wasn't sure knew what the sea was. Vaguely he recalled it being explained to him at a young age. Some kind of large lake? There hadn't been any lakes where Maua's old pride was, only streams and small watering holes. "No, I'm from around here. My pride is in the savannah bordering the jungle." He answered. Maua flinched as soon as the words came out. It wasn't really his pride, not anymore. "I mean, my old pride." He fell silent, staring blankly at his paws.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Sheska felt her stomach turn at the thought of having this conversation with a fugitive. His poor condition had won out against her better judgement. But if she was taking all this time to tidy him up (and well, she might add), he owed her an answer.

There were plenty of prides that tossed out members with certain colors or names easy as dust in the wind. Most of the ones she knew about did, and Sheska had many more prides to be discovered.

"Why did you leave?" she asked patiently. Before he could answer, she said, "You could try the sea lions. If they take your colors, you'd fit right in from what I can tell."  

[The Captain Britain]

Hopefolly

Maua felt his lips twitch up at Sheska's comment. It was a strange feeling, using muscles he hadn't used in a long time. It was gone quickly, however. The lion chewed on his lip, wondering what he could say to this kind lioness. Would she throw him aside after learning the terms of his exile? Hiss and back away as if he were some monster? Maua had spent the past few months believing that anyone would, accepted the fact that he would be alone for the rest of his life. But now that he was confronted with the situation, the male found himself hoping that Sheska would stay. "I..uh..." His throat choked up, and Maua had to take a moment to compose himself. "My sister and I were playing near a river on the pride border. She fell in and drowned." He sighed heavily. "I was blamed, and my parents cast me out." Maua held his breath, waiting for Sheska's reaction.  

[Hopefolly]

The Captain Britain

Sheska's reaction was immediate: She canted her head and squinted her eyes. She then looked skyward, tilted her head the other way, and up went her ears. Lastly, she rested her gaze on him again. All of it happened in three beats of a heart.

After she had processed the pity, the confusion, and the mess of emotions such a sad tale wrought, she said, "Then your parents should have kept a closer eye on her." as if it was an opinion that was universally shared by everyone but Maua. As if he were being a fool to not understand this.

How ridiculous. Who could blame a cub for such a thing? It was appalling.

"That's no excuse for poor presentation. Haven't you ever been told the best revenge is living a good life? Well, it's also the best way to honor someone who has died. Honestly. Ridiculous -- just ridiculous."