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 Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 5:47 am
Wounds were healing, both physical and mental.
Talking to others had helped the process. His mate, No, had been simply amazing at knowing just what to say. And then there was Kibela, one of his most trusted friends. He didn’t know what he would have done without their support and their aid. He owed them so much.
He was bathing in the last of the sunlight, watching the band of sky along the horizon darken. Oh how he loved the desert. He’d missed it so terribly, craved the heat and the sky. There was nothing more beautiful than the desert sky. Out here it was so vast, so clear, so beautiful. There was nothing quite like it. He was here to stay now, here until he drew his very last breath. It had hurt him to leave it before, when he’d been banished, but to leave it now after everything he had been through. No, the traditionalists would never get it back. He’d block the way with his carcass if he had to.
The regent stretched and lifted his head, shaking specks of sand from his dark mane. The only down side about living in the desert is that you never felt clean and there was always the taste of sand in your mouth. He’d thought nothing of it growing up, but since being outside of the desert, the tang of it on his tongue was slightly odd.
He wondered then how the other rogues were faring. Were they coping with the heat and the sand as well as he hoped? And what about the original firekin? How were they keeping up? Were they struck by grief just as he had been? Were they suffering in silence? And Kaanga, his beloved sister, where was she? Was she still fighting off those hideous demons?
And then finally, his eyes drifted back to the horizon, where he’d last seen the traditionalists head. How were they doing? What were they plotting? That was one thing Kidondo would never know.
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 8:09 am
There was not a day that went by when Azarax would not find his gaze wandering toward the horizon. Grief had held his reasoning back and kept him in denial, and for days he had wondered why. Why there?
Yet, all along, he had known why. It was the very spot where he had last seen Ripuka and Jua, as they fled from the victorious rebels. Perhaps to a rogue, the dunes all seemed to be the same, but Azarax was a Firekin, born to these lands. It mattered little to him that he did not particularly look liked one, the very knowledge that he was one was enough for him. It meant little now, whether or not he was of the Blood, or whether or not he had the looks to prove it.
Change was in the air. It had been since the very day Kidondo and his rebels had marched onto the desert, and the war had begun. Every morning, he awoke, and the tan lion could swear he could practically smell it. The smell of change, lingering about the air with the dawn.
How much different life was going to be, Azarax had no idea. He could not even begin to fathom what it would be like once the pride had settled into a regular rhythm. Regents ruled now, not a King. There were no slaves, and it didn't matter who was whose father. Strength was what mattered, strength and courage and fire.
And every single day, Azarax knew, he would watch that horizon. He would watch it in the hopes that one day, one of them would change their mind and appear on that very spot. A familiar face, be it Jua or Wakia or even Ripuka, that would show him that the Firekin of old were not simply bumbling fools. That they could cling on to their faith for so long was in itself an impressive feat. But to continue to grasp it, even when it was so obvious how wrong it was, was utter foolishness.
He wished that they could see what he did, what the rest of the rebels saw.
The sand crumbled beneath the lion's paws as he crested the sand dune, and paused, a shadow against the dying sunlight. Once more, he felt his gaze settle on the distant horizon. He felt a sigh swelling in his chest, and a love for the desert that stretched out all around him entered him. In the pale glow of last rays of the sun, he saw the darkened lands and the shadows of the few lions still out on the sands, and he smiled. A wind ruffled through his mane, warning of the approaching chill of the night as the lion stood atop his sand dune, and wondered what the next day, and the night before it, might bring.
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Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2008 12:32 am
And as he stared out into the expanse of nothingness, someone appeared, briefly silhouetted by the dipping sun. Kidondo raised his head, scented the air. He knew who it was. That youth he had met after the battle, the youth with the blazing red mane and fur the colour of the desert.
"Evening." He raised his voice a little in case, at this distance, Azarax couldn't hear. "Azarax, wasn't it? I'm glad to see you actually." He pulled himself into a sitting position and shook his mane. He was curious about the youth, curious about the sort of life he had led here with his unnatural colouring.
He'd been surprised to see him at all, surprised that he had remained with them, but glad too. Kidondo was good at reading people, or he thought he was. This lion had a heart that was good and strong. He knew it, somehow, even though he barely knew him. Maybe it was because of his suspicions, or maybe it was because he had chosen to speak up. Either way, Kidondo was glad to have him here.
"How do you fare, Azarax?"
It had only been a week or so, a week of rest and planning, a week of adjusting. But soon there'd be more change to adjust to and his work would begin. No more resting his wounds under the sun after that.
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Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2008 12:46 am
A voice floated to him, and in the approaching gloom, he made out the bold red of the Regent's coat. The fading light was already beginning to put a mask on the red, and in Azarax's eyes, the red was beginning to dim. By the time the sun left the sky, the tan lion knew that his eyes would barely be able to perceive the color.
But his eyes were good for other things. He could detect movement far easier than most lions, he had learned, and shapes stood out clearer to his eyes, though he could rarely see what color it was. Yet, he wouldn't have traded his sight for anything else. He had made peace with the way his life had panned out so far, and he blamed no one for anything that had befallen him. It was simply a twist of fate.
"Evening," He returned the greeting with a nod of his head. That Kidondo had recognized him surprised him, though at the same time, it didn't. Being remembered was not something he was particularly used to. After all, he had spent most of his life living in an atmosphere where it hardly mattered who knew who. They had all been the same, then.
"I'm quite well," He said with a small smile. "Coping with the change, at least." And there was change, indeed. Not only in his lifestyle, but in himself. He had never realized how close to the brink of adulthood he had been before the war, until he had crossed the line. That moment of clarity, when he had known inside that adolescence was gone. Being just another lion in the slave dens was gone. A new era had arrived.
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Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2008 5:58 am
"That's good. If you are then it's a good chance others are too." He watched his tail flicking lazily and fell into a state of ease. Odd really. he'd not been much one for socialising or talking but now he found comfort in the presence of others. Especially his own kind.
"I must say, I was surprised to see you amongst the other rebels. Forgive me for making assumptions, but your pelt colour: The traditionalists would not have liked it." He blinked. "Did they make an exception for you, or are my thoughts correct in that you've lived a hard life."
It was in his eyes. Something in Azarax's eyes that told of a secret story left untold. And then there was the colour of his mane. Ripuka. The older lioness had been like a mother to Kidondo when he had been young. The similarity in that orange-red of her line was unmistakeable.
He stood, shook his head. "Forgive me if I'm prying, Azarax. I guess I'm...I'm putting together pieces of a puzzle."
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Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2008 6:12 am
"I..." Azarax felt a smile flit over his face. Kidondo noticed. He noticed those little things, details. Those things that truly mattered when it came down to it.
In life, Azarax had long since realized, there were bridges that had to be crossed. Each new bridge came with hesitation, be it a single moment, or many long agonizing ones. He had come across one of those before. Accepting the results of something as simple as faith. It had taken him so long to understand, and to find peace with it, but once he put his paw onto that bridge and took the first step, the rest had come, though slowly.
This here was another bridge. His life, few knew anything of substance about it. His family - Ripuka, Wakia, Jua. And that was it. Even Mpaji didn't know. The tan lion had debated it time and again. He had come close to telling Mpaji once or twice. The burly lion had become Azarax's substitute for a family, and for a father.
But it was not called a bridge for nothing, and he had never quite been able to draw up enough courage to take that very first step.
And now, Kidondo was asking him to try.
Azarax felt his gaze linger on the Regent as he reached for the words. There was an opportune moment for everything. This was it, he could feel it. But that didn't make the doing any easier.
"You are right," He said finally. There it was. Step one. "Although... I guess. Other lives have been harder than mine. I grew up in the slave dens. But, I mean, I never really... did much, it... Maybe Uzulu knew, I... don't."
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Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2008 8:57 am
He watched Azarax cautiously, almost as if he were poking at a cobra and waiting to see if it would strike him. This was a sensitive subject, he knew, and he was unsure whether he was deserving of it.
And then the desert-pelted lion spoke an his ear twitched, turning towards the young male lion. "You've come through it well enough. You are more Firekin in build than most of those splotched red." He gave the young male a sad smile. "I am sorry I could not have done anything sooner, to bring you out from your predicament."
He pondered and decided to share something too, just so it wouldn't seem one sided. "When I was younger, I befriended a slave. She was a petite little thing, pretty as can be. She'd been born tail-first and somehow, that had weakened her. Yet, despite her physical weakness she had a spirit that burned more fiercely than any other I had known. If she had been less inclined she would have died. But she was desperate to be free, to fulfill her promise." He sighed. "It pained me to see her, so weak and injured, teetering on the edge of life and yet fighting every day. The thought of her family kept her alive and one day, when I decided to leave the lands I took her with me and set her free." He smiled at the memory. "Her name was Kiburi. I'll never forget her. She showed me that everyone has strength, even the smallest of us all. I hope she's still out there somewhere, living her life to the fullest. If she could beat the desert she could beat anything."
Sad really. Kidondo would probably never find out that Kiburi had died only a few months later, finally sucumbing to her wounds only made worse by the birth of her first and only litter.
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2008 7:29 am
"Well, my mother..." Azarax said with a sad smile, in way of explaining how his body structure contradicted his coat. "She just had more in her to give to her religion. It's just bad luck, is all."
He had had to believe it, to put all this thoughts into believing that it was simply a turn of bad luck that had landed him in the situation he had grown up it. Though, that bad luck had turned out to be something more. He had been granted with freedom from the ways of the old Firekin. He had been granted an open mind, and that was more than anyone could ask for.
He shook his head. "Don't be," He said. "You couldn't have known. And, I suppose, in a way, I should be grateful for that kind of upbringing. If not for that, I wouldn't be here." His gaze flickered briefly to the horizon. "I would be over there. With the rest of the Traditionalists."
He fell silent as Kidondo spoke, listening attentively. There was something in this sharing of experiences long past that felt almost like something sacred. He was unused to this sort of conversation, where everything was not shallow and superficial. Where their words were truly meaningful, words that came from deep within.
He smiled, as the Regent finished. "If every slave was as lucky, the term would not exist." The story brought a warmth into the lion, the tale of just how much passion can factor into one's life.
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Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 12:07 pm
He nodded. "Maybe being born with that pelt was a blessing in disguise." Either way, blessing or not, it was clear that the young adult had suffered, though he was doing well to overcome it. "Just know that you will not be judged on your pelt here. You have earned your right to stay here just as everyone has." He smiled. "I think you will grow to great things."
He looked to the horizon too and nodded, wondering again what the traditionalists were doing. Were they going to fade away, were they going to return? And if they did return, when would it be? Yes, it was clear that from now on the whole pride would have to be on their guard.
But that was okay. The new regime he had in midn would cover that. All he had to do was appoint, which really, he was already starting to do.
He nodded. "I wish I could have done more. I just hope most of the slaves managed to flee in the confusion of it all. All I know is that the term slave will no longer be used for any lion here. It's a lesson the traditionalists learned the hard way. Outsiders are as strong and wise as 'they' are. Stronger, in fact."
"Azarax, your mother, would I know her?" He already had his suspicions but he had to make sure. His time in the pride had been mostly in his youth and he'd never been one to mix much with other members, only Nuri and a handful of his own siblings...not to mention Ripuka."
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2008 5:03 pm
"I believe it was," Azarax said contemplatively. Whether or not he ended up with the rebels, depended entirely on the way he had grown up. If he had lived the cushy life of a Traditionalist cub, then he too would not have seen the importance of change. So giving him up to the slaves, he had long decided, was the best thing anyone had ever done for him.
Azarax chuckled. "Perhaps not, but I suppose there will be those who will wonder about it," He didn't mind the curiosity, however. After all, it was a strange enough pelt to have.
His gaze followed the Regent's toward the horizon, and he too wondered. What was it like, to suffer the loss of war and home and king? How far did their faith go to allow them to go through it all and not see the error of their ways? Both, he realized, were possibly questions that he would never have answered.
"Perhaps they did. But there are still those who have known no other life. They would think twice before fleeing, I would guess. And those loyal to their masters." His brow creased into a small frown at the thought. It was all so unnatural. What had made them think it was justified to enslave others in the first place?
Azarax turned his gaze back to Kidondo, a look of surprise crossing his face. He knew? The lion hesitated for a moment. Ripuka... perhaps she was old enough to have taught the Regent. He had heard that she was a storyteller, after all. "I... You might," He said somewhat uncertainly. He had only just realized just how little he knew his "family."
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Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2008 6:08 am
He nodded. All they could do now was live to become the best they could be. Nothing could change the traditionalists but at least they could change. At least they could learn from the errors of the past. It brought the Regent at least a little peace to know that under his reign there would be no slaves.
He'd be firm and tough but he would not be cruel.
And he looked to Azarax, wondering on the possibilities that he was right. If that red was Ripuka's, if that shade had been passed down then that meant she had mated. But...what sort of Firekin pairing could have brought such a sandy pelt as Azarax's? Maybe it was a defect, an unlucky strike. Or maybe...no. Ripuka would never even consider the option of breeding with an outsider. But then, who was this lad's father?
"The red of your mane reminds me of my old teacher, Ripuka. She told me stories of Finar-Si when I was a cub."
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Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2008 6:23 am
Azarax smiled a half smile. "You have a sharp eye," He said admiringly. He paused, thinking once again of Ripuka, of the face that had haunted his sleep ever since he could remember. The burning flame red lioness that had appeared night after night, that had left him wondering time after time who it was and what she wanted of him. So much so that he had even come up with a strange little tune to sing to the question, simply so he wouldn't go insane from wondering.
"She hasn't changed at all, you know..." He said after a while. "At least, from what I've heard about her, the stories of Finar-si, the extreme belief in the old ways. Although I guess you couldn't expect her to."
At the mention of the old lioness, he wondered once again where she was, or rather, how she was. How she and Jua and Wakia, how they all were coping with what had happened. Did they truly still believe that they would be saved by their Goddess?
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 4:49 am
"Ever since I was little I had keen eyes." He smiled. "Always the quiet observer. It has taught me much, just sitting quietly and watching everything going on around me." He stretched out his claws in the sand and sighed. "No, she always stayed the same, at least on the outside. Who knows what thoughts torment her. She always meant well, Ripuka, but it was she with her stories that made me realise how wrong the lifestyle of a Firekin was." He smiled softly. "If it were not for her stories and Nuri's proddings maybe I would have been no different from the rest. Either way, the past happened for a reason and I am thankful to both of them, though Ripuka would be horrifed to hear it."
He looked across at Azarax then, noticing the subtle similarities in their appearance. Yes, he was truly Ripuka's child. He wondered what the old girl had thought when she had seen his sandy pelt at birth, wondered how she had brought herself to abandon a child in return for Finar-Si's blessing.
Atleast she had not killed him, there was good in that. She was learning mercy, she was learning that sometimes rules had to be bent on some occasions.
"I think she loved you, Azarax, more than you could ever know. Ripuka was many things but she wasn't heartless. She took me in as if I were her own son. And if she could love another lioness' child then there is no doubt of her love for you."
And then he added. "Maybe one day, her love for you will bring her back."
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 8:37 am
"The past..." Azarax echoed with a nod, that could have been a mixture of appreciation and scorn. Yes, the past had happened for a reason, and he, too, was grateful for everything that had happened to him before. This place that all of that had taken him, it was a wonderful place. The right place.
"Her and me both," He said with a small bemused smile. He didn't doubt Kidondo's words. There were worse things that she could have done than leave him in the slave dens. There were far worse things, he was sure of it. As for himself, he cared about her more than he was willing to acknowledge. More than he had realized. He knew that he had all but forgiven her already, however he tried to deny it.
And perhap Uuo hadn't been prepared to kill Ripuka. Perhaps she really had simply meant to stun the old lioness. But he hadn't known that. And yet, somehow, before he had realized it, his body had taken him to the old story teller's aid. If she had died, Azarax would have missed her more than he cared to admit.
"Maybe it will," He murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon again, lingering there for a moment before he brought it back. "But I'm not the only one she loves. She still has Jua and Wakia."
And that lying creature who calls himself their father, He added vehemently in his thoughts, recalling the conversation he had had with Jua. It seemed like such a long time ago, as if it too had faded slowly into the past.
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Posted: Tue Jul 01, 2008 6:26 am
He liked this lion.
This was a lion he could trust, a lion who could be inconscpicious, who could blend and fade into the background if he so wished. He was an observer just like himself.
He'd missed much by leaving the lands for so long. For one thing he'd missed the birth of Ripuka's child, no, children? There were two more? Jua and Wakia. He'd file those names away for later. Who knew, maybe one day they'd see sense. He was curious about the others, wondered whether they looked like their mother.
And then he wondered again how Azarax had gotten his pelt. Was it just unlucky or had their been a blip in Ripuka's ancestral line. He knew Ripuka well enough to know that she'd never take an outsider as a mate and besides, she wouldn't be allowed. She'd be killed if the rest of the traditionalists thought she had been 'sleeping with the enemy'. Besides, it really didn't matter now. Azarax was here and he was safe and as far as he was aware, the rest of his family were safe too.
He nodded. "Perhaps if they find out they have a brother on the other side, they'll grow curious. Maybe they'll realise then that their ways are wrong." He stood then, shook the grains of dust from his mane.
"Azarax. This might seem like an odd request, but would you spar with me for a while?"
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