Word Count: 1270
The pale white lioness picked her way quietly over the African savanna. It was hot with the sun burning her back, and though she had a pale coat, she hated how easily even she could burn. Unfortunately though, the lioness was caught in the plains, with few trees, and even fewer watering holes. She'd fight against crocs and hippos for a good drink, but at the height of the dry season, she knew her wishing was for naught.
Blue eyes surveyed the landscape before her, and she flicked her tail irritably. Was there no where she could rest? No where she could ease her sore paws and work diligently on cleaning her now dust covered coat? A large, pale boulder could be seen about half a mile, outside of a few shrubs and plants that would provide more thorns than comfort. So, heaving a sigh, the lioness continued on her way.
Unfortunately, Isanne had no way of knowing that the boulder she was edging closer to was nothing more than a lump of fur and feathers. The pale beast had flopped down precariously on his side, his wings loosely folded about him, his eyes closed, and his spiked tail drawn out behind him. So it was, Nemanja'janan had found himself . . . how long he'd been there, he was unsure, but really it simply did not matter. Time was quite variable, really, at least for the god. In particular, the god of Apathy. If he heard her slow as she approached, he gave no sign. . . . His breath was slow, and for all intents and purposes, he really did look dead.
Isanne had slowed her pace when her blue eyes began to make out the form of the 'boulder'. It had wings. It had a spiked tail. It was a mess of the dirtiest fur she had ever seen, and a mane. It was. . . . a god. Now, the female had heard of such things, but never had she thought she'd stumble upon one in the middle of the savanna. In fact, with wide eyes she pointedly gaped at the creature. It was huge, and unlike anything she'd ever seen. Worse though, it . . . it looked dead. Did the gods fall from the heavens to die? COULD a god die? Worse, what might have killed him anyway? Another god, perhaps?
Still, there was no blood. Sickness? Could gods succumb to such things?
Thankfully, Nemanja had enough sense to let his tail twitch. He felt her eyes upon him, and in a rare moment of energy the god shifted just enough so he could turn his head and look upon his new guest. Pale. Blue. Female. Meh.
Isanne all but jumped out of her skin and bolted when the creature moved. "Are you hurt? Are you . . . going to be all right? " She questioned, finding it ludicrous that she had to actually ask something to such an impressive creature. Awe. Wonderment. A . . .god. Surely a god who looked as this one did needed a little bit of help.
Unfortunately for Isanne, her assumptions were wrong.
Nemanja needed no aid, and for a long while he said nothing. His ebony gaze simply stared at her, unblinking. There were no pupils, no expression change, no noting in the way that he stared at her. He considered her being there, nothing but another rogue, unless he had flopped upon some pride land. Honestly, the god hadn't taken any time in considering where he had collapsed. . . .simply that he was there. Land was land ,after all.
"I am fine." It took a tremendous amount of effort for the god to speak, and his words were about as dusty as the plains in which he lay. Still, there was a fuzzy sort of gentleness within them, a promise that he was of no threat. Yet.
Isanne felt her brows knit as the god claimed he was quite fine. "Fine? Fine!?" She couldn't stop herself from questioning, giving a derisive snort as she walked once more around the god, emboldened some by his dismissal. "You certainly don't look fine." Leave it to the proud and rather fussy lioness to not fear the god. Now that her concern for him had been pressed aside, taking another look at the god just made her feel dirty. . . .
He was a mess.
Nemanja said nothing as Isanne walked around him. In fact, he simply closed his eyes and wrote the female off. She would stare, but then she would leave. It wasn't perhaps the most gentlemanly thing to do, but he did not feel up for much conversation this day. He was weary of heart, mind, and soul. . . . prattling with a mortal just seemed like too much effort!
Isanne, unfortunately, was a proud creature. She was vain, she was conceited, and she felt just a little entitled. She was beautiful, she deserved to find a mate who would worship the very ground she walked upon, and of course provide everything for her. Someone she could adore, and best of all, be loved and cherished. She was tired of being a rogue, of having nothing, of half-starving, of fighting to stay clean, of so much travel. She wanted her paradise, but unfortunately, she had a bad habit of believing she was worth something epic.
Epic like a god.
Why shouldn't this one give her the attention she deserved? Perhaps if she did him a favor, perhaps if she forced him to look upon her, to shake up his life a little. To be the mate of a god. . . wouldn't that be something!? And yet. . . . look at him. He was disgusting -- was that snake skin in his mane!? -- and certainly looked lazy. Hmph.
Ah, but he was . . . still a god. She could work with this, couldn't she?
"Well, at least let me fix you up some. When's the last time you've been properly groomed, eh? If you don't mind, I would . . . be honored if you might let me . . . help clean you up some. No sense in being this dirty, after all." Too late she wondered if perhaps this god could read minds? Or perhaps it was insulting to him to be clean? Would he smite her? Would he turn upon her? He really was big, and could easily look lazy to keep others unprepared.
Nemanja, thankfully, gave nothing more than a small grunt. ". . . do whatever you wish. It matters not to me." And why should it? He let cubs crawl over him, just as he let cubs get devoured or die slow deaths next to him. He honestly did not care. . . or at least, he told himself he did not. He was apathy, he should not actually feel strongly about anything. Feelings only complicated matters. . .feelings only hurt, and this particular lion was quite a coward compared to some gods.
If Isanne wished to groom him, let her. There would be no objections from him, only she should do so at her own risk.
Isanne, for her part, absolutely beamed. Oh yes, she would work on this god, this stranger, this creature no matter how long it took! Thankfully, by grooming him, it meant she would be forced to keep his company for as long as it took. And from the mess he was in, that was quite awhile. "Very well then." And with that, the lioness -- with some trepidation -- bridged the distance between herself the very, large god to begin her ministrations.
