IC Timeline: The day following In Seer-ious Trouble.
Chyou spent the better part of her afternoon pulling ruthlessly through years of grooming neglect. Matted fur was wrenched apart or tugged out and tossed aside; tangles were unraveled; several insects, some alive and some dead since who-knows-when were promptly evicted. Hours of yanking from her and groaning from him was the price paid to give the world one less unkempt lion. With the mass cleaned nice and thorough, she leaned back to admire Konja's more pristine mane. "It looks good. I got the stick that was in there out."
"Thanks." His tone fell just short of surpassing a mumble. Chyou took no offense.
"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" she asked. She'd caught him with that pensive stare again and this time she refused to let it go uncontested.
"What? Talis?"
Two of the things Chyou admired most about Konja was he didn't ask for much and took nothing for granted. At meal time, she'd never seen him gormandize no matter how savory the kill. Any task they were assigned back home or here he saw through to the best of his abilities. If he'd ever complained about anything, anything at all, it was so scarcely she had no recollection of it.
The problem with Konja was that he had a habit of taking his best attributes and wielding them defensively. Chyou felt there was a wall between him and the rest of world, and every time he dismissed his woes, another stone fell into place. There was nothing wrong with appreciating what you had unless it stunted your ability to properly express yourself.
"Not Talis," she said. "I mean you and... whatever's going on with you. Alake was acting strange too, even before we found the prin — Talis. Is it Amira? Is something wrong with one of the cubs?"
"They're healthy," Konja averred. "Getting bigger everyday."
He could deny himself comfort until they were long into their dotage, but Chyou knew him to be adverse to outright lying. About the welfare of his nieces and nephews she'd assume him nothing but truthful. It lifted her spirits to hear they were well, and to a degree, to hear Konja's voice at all. The silence throughout her tending to his mane had overstayed its welcome. She didn't like to garner confessions this way, but she had so few options other than putting him a position where his integrity was at risk. "It's something to do with Amira, though?"
As she'd expected, he conceded rather than tell untruths. "Yes," he breathed, shifting away from her, suddenly aware of their closeness and seemingly less accepting of it. Maybe his intent was to make room for that pile of metaphorical rocks.
That wall's still transparent, Chyou thought. She could respect his personal space and still encroach on his emotions. He couldn't hide his despondency from her any longer; damned if she wouldn't find the cause and pull it up by the roots.
"What is it? I won't tell anyone."
"Don't worry about it," Konja replied evenly. "It'll work itself out."
"Come on, Konja. I've never seen you this quiet... and I haven't seen Amira at all. I know she must be busy, but —"
"It's Mom." Konja made the correction before Chyou could respond. "It's our mother. She doesn't want anything to do with the cubs because of who their father is."
Chyou glanced about, as if to make certain no one was eavesdropping. It sounded to her like the matter called for significant gravitas. She'd wondered before now who sired that litter. Eventually, she'd presumed them the product of a fling and let it be. They looked too much like Amira to her to identify their father among the Prideland's massive populace, if indeed he could be found among them. Was he someone important? Was it a scandal?
"Who is their father?" she inquired softly.
Seeing it from someone else Chyou would have felt embarrassed at worst. When armed with those familiar purple eyes and donned by this particular lion, the incredulous staring made her feel the most self-conscious she'd been since Hari and Yue had the irate mothers of their bullying victims barreling through the lands to find her.
The silver lining was she'd deduced correctly the first time. "She's angry the father is a rogue? That's... terrible." Truly she'd meant to heed his desire to stay out of reach. She didn't act contrary to it, just forgot about it entirely. No sooner had his staid mask began to crumble than she was at his side.
He frowned and closed his eyes a moment. "There's seven of them. That's too many for one lioness to properly raise, even with the nannies. She needs her mother and they need their grandmother..."
"And?" Chyou urged. There was an "and" he'd not said.
"And I'm from rogues," Konja grumbled, a hint of melancholy seeping through. He was staring at nothing again, and Chyou realized what he'd been doing all along wasn't deciding on the future, but remembering the past. "My mother and my father."
"Alake is your mother," Chyou tried. She pinned her ears back when he sounded offended.
"I know she's my mother." Having noticed her distress, he relaxed his taut shoulders and did away with the agitation in his voice. "What I mean is she didn't birth me. A rogue did..."
"Alake loves you, Konja. No one in the pride ever knew you weren't hers unless she told them."
He rose abruptly, though he didn't move far. "You just... You just don't understand."
"I don't understand?" Chyou's scowl caught them both off guard. She pawed anxiously at the ground and watched the dirt give way to her extended claws. "My cubs were from a rogue. Hari —" She swallowed. "Hari has yelled about it before. Yue has been angry too. I might not know what it's like to have rogue parents, but I know what it's like to have a rogue's cubs."
Had either of them known Chyou was no more the legitimate child of those who raised her than he was, this might have gone differently. Konja found himself bested by her logic without that knowledge, more due to the guilt than the facts themselves. "I'm sorry."
Chyou smiled reluctantly. "Listen... Let's go hunting together. We always meant to go hunting one day, didn't we?"
And maybe one day they finally would, but it wouldn't be today...
