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 Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 10:38 pm
Entry 1
Cub’s name: Kucha’damu
Meaning: “darkness of blood”
Personality:
Kucha is a selfish being. She is quiet and calculating, but never afraid to put up a fight and argue her point until winning. It was a rare thing when she was proven wrong—and when that happens, no one can be held responsible for what she might do as a result. She refuses to take orders unless it is important for her to do so—hunting in groups, for example. If the goal is a common one between more than two lions, then she accepts the instructions without a fight—for the time being, of course.
The demon voice inside of Kucha calls for blood. The first time she hunted alone, one paw slipped and she stumbled, slicing it on a broken root. The cut wasn’t deep, but it leaked out a few drops of bright red blood into her fur. The cub couldn’t help but simply sit there and stare, twisting her paw around to catch the liquid in different light. She even went so far as to taste it, relishing in the copper taste.
Her name means “darkness of blood” for a specific reason. She is the only one of her siblings to own a blood-red coat, one she is particularly proud of and therefore diligently washes herself whenever she has a spare moment. The second meaning is a kind of secret to herself: her deep fascination with blood. At times, she is worried that someone might figure her secret out, but she covers her tracks well and ridicules herself of thinking of her strength as a possible weakness. She is too tough for such a thing.
Prompt #: 1
Prompt Response:
Kucha ignored the first nudge, assuming it was one of her siblings kicking around in their sleep (if they were having a good dream, they often did such a thing). But when the nudges became more urgent and repetitive, her eyes slid open to glare at the offender. Mother ignored the look, opting instead to spare a glance to every corner, every crevice, and every lion currently sleeping in the same cave. Especially Father; the older lioness almost didn’t take her eyes off the large male. But when she did, Kucha could see that her eyes were filled with fear. And she didn’t really care why.
“We must leave,” Mother whispered softly as she crouched lower to the ground. Kucha blinked once and moved to flip over to her other side but was stopped by her mother’s hesitant paw. “We must leave before your father and siblings wake. Please, Kucha, you must leave with me.”
“Why?” Kucha whispered back hotly. She would play this game with her mother, but if the old lioness decided to pull something ridiculous then she was done. “And why did you wake me in the middle of the day? This is the best hour to sleep through.” She was ignored, again. Kucha didn’t really like it when she was ignored.
“We have no choice. Come, we must leave now.” Slowly, inch-by-inch, Mother began to crawl out of the cage, stepping over her other cubs and avoiding Father at all costs. Curious but still wary, Kucha followed, eying her brothers and sisters with a nonchalant glance. Why was Mother being so paranoid? She was never this cautious. Okay, maybe she was. There was that one time when the cubs began to hunt on their own. She was a nervous wreck the entire time. Kucha couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the thought…
Mother whipped her head around to make a “Shh!” look with her mouth before continuing on, finally trotting out of the cave altogether. The cub followed her mother diligently until they reached a cluster of trees and boulders a good way away from the others, where Mother could speak freely and Kucha could ask questions. Which she planned to do until they were answered.
“What do you think you’re doing, waking me up in the middle of the day?” she demanded first, pacing around in a way she thought would be intimidating, even to the elder lioness. Mother glanced both ways before leaning in closer, still answering in a low voice.
“Because we have to leave your Father and the others before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what? What are you talking about?” Kucha was furious. First of all, she was woken up in the middle of the day—her favorite time to nap because it was so warm outside—with no explanation at all. Second of all, when she asked for such an explanation, she was denied one. Third of all, when she finally had the chance to ask for answers, Mother was leading her in circles. She wanted to know what was going on, and her patience was wearing dangerously thin.
“He used me. Us. He used me to get you and your brothers and sisters. He’s part of an awful tribe, Kucha. A demon tribe that enslaves regular lions and all other kinds of animals without mercy, oftentimes. I’ve been tricked twice like this, and I can’t believe I fell for it again…” she trailed off, seeming to be lost in memories for a second. Kucha tilted her head, bored, and began to say something. She was cut off when Mother realized that the time was not right for such memories to be woken from their dormant state in her mind.
“You out of all the cubs demonstrate logic, Kucha. Logic that could get you far in the world, and won’t tie you down to lies and trickery and a world full of hatred and violence. I want you to escape while you still can, and this is our chance. I don’t want you to live a life and say you never had a choice in saying whether you wanted that life or another one. I’m giving you this opportunity. If you come with me, you will have the choice: to go back and join your Father’s pride and regroup with your siblings. Or, after all I hope to teach you and show you, make the decision to find a more peaceful lifestyle. I can help you get to that point, my daughter. Please let me help you. Come with me.”
The last part was pleading. Kucha never liked a beggar.
“How do I know you’re not lying to just get me out of the cave? You’re going to take me away even if I don’t want to, aren’t you? You’re so selfish and you make me sick with all your peaceful notions. I’m ashamed to have called you Mother.” Kucha spat out the insult like it was a bad taste in her mouth. She was relieved when the words were finally out.
Mother took a step back, disbelief in her stare. Kucha could read it loud and clear: “How could you say no? How could you blame me for trying to make your life happy?” And Kucha did not reply, only stared at the lioness with contempt in her green orbs. They said: “Because you have raised me on lies. Your world cannot exist; peace cannot exist. The only way is to conquer, as we are doing.”
One tear made its way down Mother’s cheek before she turned around and fled. Kucha smirked a little as she watched her mother run, disappearing behind a corner of trees. That’s what she’s always been doing, she thought. Mother always ran away when a situation became too hard to handle.
But, strangely, one thing her Mother had mentioned struck a chord deep within Kucha: the fact that her Father was part of a demon tribe, one who enslaved regular—and therefore lesser—lions. Was that what the voice inside of her meant? The voice that insisted on her drinking more blood every time at a hunt? The same, exact one, that relished in excitement and curiosity every time she saw, smelled, felt, or tasted blood?
She would ask Father tonight, after he and the others woke. Before the hunt.
And who knows? Maybe she would wait to tell Father of Mother’s betrayal until he asked where she was. She would have six hours. Kucha pitied her mother for her delusions of a peaceful world. Six hours would be enough of a head start.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 10:39 pm
Entry 2:
Cub's name: Oiralonë
Meaning: “eternal darkness”
Personality: Oira has been told that she must be ever vigilant for the voice of the gods, as they will guide her toward her true potential. To that end, she doesn’t take kindly to anyone who chatters without a good reason, other lions or slaves or familiars, it doesn’t matter. She is completely convinced that she will grow into demonic power and strives for it by any means. Also, because she is the reddest of her siblings, she believes herself to be the strongest and is not above demonstrating that on them. She would never abandon the pride.
Prompt #: 2
Prompt Response:
Lessons were over for the night and the moon was up. Oira’s patience lasted through one round of pouncing with her siblings. She scrambled and scratched her way to the top of the pile each time she was pinned at the bottom, biting tails and feet hard enough to make the others squeak and move. She was not meant to be buried and forgotten. Her place was on top, and she made sure the others knew it, over and over again.
Then, when the rest of them had flopped together, catching their breath and leaning on one another, she gathered herself and left them. She’d been planning this night for a week and now that the moon was fat and full, the time was right.
A week ago, she’d spotted a hare feeding in the grasses, heavy in the belly and slow to move. By asking questions of the Sinta’har, she’d learned that it meant the thing was pregnant and would have babies soon, and the plan was hatched. Every night, she had slipped away to search around the grasses where she’d seen the fast hare. When she found its scent, she followed it to the shadow in the ground that reeked of the animal, and she’d retraced her steps. Now she knew how to get to the den and back, even when shadows hid the moon.
And last night, she’d seen the hare again, sleek and quick, its belly smooth. It darted from the den, ears twitching, then hopped off to eat. Its babies were down there. Small and weak. Oira would have to dig and she would have to be quick, but she only needed one little creature. One would be enough to get attention.
When the hare left her babies again, Oira set to work, digging through disturbed earth as quickly as she could. Her shoulders ached and the pads of her toes cracked and bled, but eventually she broke through the last crust of earth, closed her mouth around one tiny, hairless hare-ling, and loped off with it, leaving the rest to live or die as they would.
She ran to a rock outcropping, one that was bathed by moonlight, and she spat the little creature out. Turning her face up to the moon, she called out, “Morifaer! I made this hunt for you. I hope that you see it and it makes you happy. I hope that you’ll help me to become worthy of you.” She looked down at the offering then, and murmured, “You’ll help me too. Thank you for giving me your strength.”
Then she bit the hare and lapped at its blood before settling down to eat. She would be the strongest. She would honor the gods. She would help the pride thrive. She would.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 10:40 pm
Entry 3:
Cub's name: En'dagora
Meaning: Of Battle
Personality: Birthed from the slave came a cub with the heart of a general. Unlike her fellow females, En’da does not dabble in the art of subtle manipulation, instead choosing to let her claws and teeth speak for her. Violence thrills her. For this girl there is no better passtime, nothing more satisfying than to watch a bloody fight unfold, or to even participate in one. No one will escape her little playdates unless they are bruised or bleeding. She can be a bit of a bully when she spies someone weaker in spirit, taunting them, threatening them until she gets what she wants out of them, be it a fight or an extra share of meat. Damn right she behaves for her elders, though, and those higher in station to her.
Prompt #: 2
Prompt Response:
“This is our night!” The crimson warrior paced back and forth on her rocky pyre, jaded eyes smouldering in the bare moonlight. Her audience? Why, her troops, of course. Loyal? It didn’t matter. They were demons each of them, and ready to fight. Most of them, anyway.
“Our opponents have completed their training sessions for tonight. That means NOW is the optimum time to strike. Now, you all know your positions--” Suddenly, her head whips around, spotting movement in the back, “YOU! I see you trying to sneak away. Coward. Come to the front, brother, COME. You’ll be with me in the raid and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
En’dagora continued her speech with her tail wrapped about the cub in the most unfriendly of ways. She went on- they were all warriors who would reap the blood of their enemies, bring glory to their god and their father. And-don’t-you-look-at-me-like-that-or-so-help-me-I-will-scratch-your-eyes-out. It was typical, but some still looked on with rapture as she preached in low growling tones with savage, jerking movements. Their sister could really talk, there was little doubt about that. Others still stayed because they knew that whatever party of mischeif En’da was hosting was bound to be a lot more interesting than just resting during their time of scheduled neglect.
“Now, move out!”
And so they did, crawling or bounding over rocks in their own way of sneaking. It was really a sort of orderly chaos of eager cubs. En’da and her less than excited ward wasted no time. However, once they got close to their targets, silence fell. The crimson warrior licked her fangs in preparation, tail twitching as she saw what looked like a tough target. For all their righteous speaking, those Sparda cubs could put up a damn good resistance. In the next moment, she was tackling one of the little blue demons, roaring her battlecry-in-progress. All hell broke out around her as the Spardans figured out that they were about to be engaged in yet another mini war. Strategic Manuever #10- she would put it to the test!
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