It was mid-morning, and Nemanja was picking his way through the savanna. The tall, dry grasses tickled his sides and legs, but he hardly flinched and merely continued to press onward. He had no direction, no destination, and he didn't much care where he wound up. His coat was a bit stained, his mane disheveled and matted, and his spike tail had various grasses and twigs caught and tangled upon it. He looked quite the sight, with his massive wings dragging, but it wasn't necessarily a formidable sight.
He was a mess, a wreck, and it was a shame too. If he took the time to care for himself, he might be considered a handsome beast, but currently he was nothing more than a mess. But that was just the way of it. He didn't care enough to keep himself clean, didn't care enough to often bother to feed himself or even clean out the cuts and scratches on his paws. He was far from a regal sight, but it was what it was. He was better off wandering, like a ghost through the mortal realm, than he was actually caring. Feelings only hurt, only caused pain, and there were certain feelings the black eyed lion did not want to acknowledge or consider.
Perhaps he was a coward for it, but what did he care? Only he knew his reasons for hiding behind his domain. Only he knew his reasons for becoming as careless and unfeeling as he was. It wasn't an easy lifestyle, but it was his choice and it was one that he wasn't ready to change. Not now, possibly not ever.
The land was seemingly quiet, and fairly flat. A few trees sprouted here and there, but for the most part there was little happening on the savanna. Step by step, breath by breath, the large creature forced his way onward. His tongue was parched, for how long had it been since he'd had a drink, and his body was tired. But he wasn't going to stop, not yet. What did it matter that his physical body resented its current treatment? He was nothing in the grand scheme of things and today was no different.
