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 Posted: Sun Nov 19, 2006 6:28 pm
 An orb of solid white cast its sizzling rays over a bleached landscape. Everywhere the light tough mirages wavered, skeletons of the water that once layed upon the sand. A slight wind blew, tearing into the flesh of all who left the protection of the dunes. A large adult, though still very young at heart and mind, fought the storm, head low, eyes kept lowered. There wasn't much to see in the sands, only to press forwards. He supposed little would venture out as such a time, keeping their own reddened hides safe from the torrent of dirt.
Upendo' Mpaji had no such luck. There had been a group of Firekin where he had stayed originally and they made quick work to kick him out. It did not matter that they were a group of adolescents and he nearly twice their size, respect had to be given in these lands. It was what Motomilia decreed. If anything Mpaji would listen to her.
He dared a glance upward, the sting of the wind hitting his eyes. Still nothing available. He let out a sigh, shaking his yellowed coat from sand. He wouldn't travel much longer before stopping, he couldn't go too far, he still needed water. Who knew what desperate creatures lay this far on the outskirts.
He wondered where Moto was at the moment, but more decisevly, Keeni. How much he loathed that flea-bitten excuse for a lion. Of all the lions he had met there was not one he did not respect, except for this Keeni. Mpaji wondered perhaps if the Firekin wasn't a Firekin at all, but a half brood. He knew only one he considered true of blood anyway. Kwana. But she had been cast out. Perhaps one day he'd arrange for her return. He was only just a slave.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2006 4:14 pm
What a beautiful face, such a beautiful face.
His mind toiled, watching safely from the base of a shifted stone that had conveniently formed a nice safe-heaven for the lion as he slacked back, watching the storm brew.
That face moved, shifted, yellow like the sands itself, but not a Firekin at all. It was a slave, the body of a slave, slick and thick with the build of an adult; which he so plainly was.
He watched, eyes half open for the wind was fierce, heart flickering. It was odd how he fascinated recently of the broader of things; even other lions. And no matter how awkward he felt of his manner, he wouldn't cease to act it, for thinking some things beautiful never was a crime, after all.
Now, no matter how engulfed he may have been, Tamu was in no manner of giving his kindness out loosely. Even if his 'friend', Miss Azula, only seemed to brighten his week, he was still seeping into depression quicker then any lion could venture in and dig him out. It was, primly, what had gone on while she'd been absent...
His fussing over her seemed childish, stalker-ish, and he despised himself as well as her for it. Every time he showed the slightest bit of curiosity, if not nosiness, it seemed as if he had no right--they were after all, not mated; technically.
Nonetheless, Tamu would sit and watch as this pale lion crept closer, his mane flowing like liquid...Tamu secretly wished for this lion’s presence, if only to bask in it--no matter if you were a slave or not, holding looks as he did should be illegal. Tamu groped the sands with his claws, slim eyes watching, glaring out into the open.
It was obvious; Tamu was envious of this chap. Tossing his tiny scrap of fur to the side, he watched patiently…this lion was aimed straight for Tamu’meka.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2006 10:48 am
His muscles tensed with each step, as if he felt the others presence, but his mind told him no one would be out this far. With every step the wind seemed to rush harder, he wouldn't make it much farther before being buried in the sands. He'd have to pick somewhere, quickly, and hope that if it was occupied whatever was there happened to be merciful. His throat was so dry he could feel it burning. If this is what the afterlife felt like he knew too well he feared death. But he didn't believe in such nonsense. It was obvious you went no where once you died. Yet no one else seemed to share his views.
The sand was so thick, and the grains so quickly passed he didn't even notice the other before he nearly stumbled over him. He nearly fell back in horror, but he had also been taught by Moto not to show fear. They fed off of that very thing, driving it into your skull. So he voiced his surprised in a hidden viel. "I'm sorry, sir," he choked, trying to get the sand from his throat. "I did not see you there."
He made to move, but realized how much safer it was here. The male had found a spot, one Mpaji didn't think existed in such a battered landscape. You see see all about, except to one side, which protected your back from such battered winds. There was room for two. Mpaji bit his tongue, he desperately needed to stay, but young or not, the lion in front of him held more status. It was up to the other to let him.
He could bargin. Yes, that was it, he would barter with the other for a spot. If he knew one thing well, it was that the Firekin liked their power, and loved to show to the others they had it. Mpaji was no ones slave in particular, really he belonged to Moto if anyone, or perhaps the king, but he didn't think either would mind if he was shown doing something a little useful.
"If I could stay here, till the Storm was over?" he looked hopeful, his grey-blue eyes watching the smaller form. Had he been a dangerous lion, and one of murder, he could have easily struck the other down, but the thought never even crossed his mind. Besides, he would have eventually been found out, and meet his death from the much larger, more dangerous groups of lions.
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Posted: Fri Nov 24, 2006 11:26 am
Tamu felt the taught lion stumble, and move back, his voice erupting against the storm.
And all the while, Tamu's brown eyes stayed to the landscape for a long while, never drifting towards Mpaji for a second. Then, as if the sands drifted it from miles off, his own voice casually came, head rolling to see the older male.
'As you should be.' a few moments passed, face emotionless, before Tamu's lips parted again in speech.
'These sands are getting crafty on us. This spot, here, I found this a long while back, while hunting. The storm brew quickly, and now we both are locked in it's grasp.' And for the first time, he smiled, the fur on his head swaying gently.
'It is big enough, do you not think? Nice and roomy, safe from all the turbulence.'
Purposely, Tamu flexed, body shifting and spreading across the space. He was capable of taking up a good 3/4 of it, while still having some room for a small cub.
'Ah, yes. It is big, and safe too. Tell me, is the wind haggard out there? Surely you'd be eaten alive by it eventually, if you kept walking.'
For a while, he fell silent, and looked to Mpaji with glazed eyes. Tamu was horrible. Simply horrible.
Shrugging slightly, Tamu recoiled into his spot, and smiled coldly. 'Alright. Sit, you must be tired from your voyage. What is your name? You are no Firekin, that's for sure.' His eyes followed the features of the male, watching carefully.
'You show too much fear, that you do.'
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Posted: Fri Nov 24, 2006 1:13 pm
Mapji wasn't surprised by the blunt anger of the other, or the actions that followed. He chose not to answer most of the questions, as they really had no need for answering. The other lion did that for him. The smile made him feel more easy, as if he'd be welcomed, but he knew the firekin better, he just didn't know what this one was playing yet.
He pinned his ears to his skull as the other stretched across the space. How he wanted to wriggle into it and shove the other one out, keep there till the sand tore away his eyes, then let him back in. There was no chance of it, unless he wanted to risk crippling.
"Very haggard," he answered, dragging his parched tongue across sticky teeth. He had no doubt the sand would eventually tear his skin from his body, leave him battered, bruised, and then buried alive when he could walk no further. He didn't wish for a death by sand.
A sigh of relief escaped his throat as the other lion moved and Mpaji lept on the opening gratefully. "Mpaji," he answered, curling up as tightly as possible to give the firekin room. "Upendo` Mpaji. Do I get to know your name?" he asked in as submissive a way as possible.
His youthful anger flourished when the other called him a coward. He bit into his tongue to keep from lashing out with words. "Just a little startled," he said. "The sands hide things." He looked out to the swirling landscape, his tail flicking gratefully for the spot.
"Do you have slaves?" he asked out of no where. It might be rude, but he'd recieve nothing more than a small claw lashing for it.
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Posted: Thu Dec 28, 2006 12:38 pm
The roar of sands picked up, and quietly Tamu preoccupied himself as Mpaji spoke. Though he heard the words, he pretended he didn't.
'It's not wise to tell strangers your alias. But, no matter--you obviously know who your superiors are. I for one go by my morals.' He smiled, knowing full well he had every right to go by what he thought, and this--commoner did not.
'Oh, yes.' He abruptly hissed, flashing Mpaji a glare. 'You will call me master.' His glare thickened, and was added to with a crisp, slick smile.
But as Mpaji questioned Tamu of slaves, his features dimmed. He didn't have slaves, though he liked the idea of them, and even so, this fool wouldn't have to know the truth anyways. The truth was for those who were trusted--Tamu trusted no one.
'I have.' He cut short into the question, rolling his eyes and glancing off in the distance. 'Who doesn't.' He squinted, trying to see off towards a stray buck, who would soon topple over and wither in the sands.
'Oh, yes. Lions like you who, instead of having slaves, serve as slaves.'
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Posted: Thu Dec 28, 2006 1:17 pm
Mpaji thought that this was a very odd Firekin. He asked one thing, when he wanted another. He was, no doubt, eating and drinking the wrong water, Mpaji presumed. How else could his knocker be so far off what the truth was.
Still, he had the typical Firekin aura. The flash of the teeth, and the overpowering desire to be called master. He was definately not dropping in of the typical statements of the Motoujami lions.
Still, when the other lion seemed down at the prospect of not having slaves, Mpaji's spirits brightened. They were quickly silenced by the sharp tongue of the other. Motomilia didn't have any slaves, unless you counted him.
"I belong to Motomilia, not you," he grumbled, settling down in the sands and burying his face in them. "She'll be none to pleased if you go ordering me around." It wasn't often that he played that card, but Moto must have had some standing in the world, of royal blood or something rather, because people seemed to be silenced in awe at their name.
"You serve, too," he dared, glaring, and growing tired of the insults. "Retorts and leaders." Mpaji wormed into his sand spot and refused to move. He'd like to see the lion try and shove him out of the spot.
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Posted: Fri Feb 23, 2007 6:49 pm
Tamu flicked the lion a glare, watching as Mpaji dared to enter into dangerous territory. His body tingled with a curious sensation, and hesitantly, Tamu quirked a brow.
'Motomilia aye?' He settled back slightly, looking surprised; looking rather sarcastic. Then, it all fell and he spoke again abruptly. 'Never heard of her.'
Well--never seen her, to be accurate. Moto was Kijinga's sister, or so he recalled, and so that made him well aware of Motomilia--but she held no power in this land, seen as a traitor, or once seen as one anyways. Either way you looked at it, Tamu did not care, and was not phased by the power Mpaji spoke of that lioness.
But what did interest him was Mpaji's choice of words. Belong. So this massive creature belonged to Motomilia--he was a possession. Tamu's gaze fell harshly onto Mpaji's and he smiled fiercely.
'Please, spare me your small talk. You belong to this land--the Firekin land. And granted, Moto has staked claim on your body, but as you wander out of her grip, you are then open to all to toss and turn and fumble with.' He smirked, arching his tail, and hissing gently.
'You are nothing but an item of the desert, used by whim at whatever time needed.' At this point, Tamu was partially off his seat, though still laying splayed out. His body hovered over the earth, eyes baring down on the form of Mpaji. It was obvious that this slave had little fears in this world. He knew his bulk would over come any creature--what a waste.
Tamu settled slightly, shrugging with leisure. 'I serve little, seeing that I laze about this land most of the time. However, it does appear to me to be better then what you do--beatings must take a toll on you, given your master has the guts to whack you around when you act out.'
His eyes drifted to the sands just past Mpaji, which seemed to be easing slightly. Soon, he would leave and wander again to another plain, simply to get away from this world.
From the start of their meeting, Tamu was enlightened by the sight of Mpaji. He was gorgeous in no way a lion was capable of being. But now, as times grew sour and Tamu felt more and more inclined to use his blood against this foreign lion, he grew impatient with the other's testy judgments. His actions would not lead him to harm, from per say Tamu, but lord willing some other Firekin would teach this slave a lesson.
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Posted: Sat Feb 24, 2007 2:32 pm
Mpaji's ears flicked forwards at the sound of Moto's name, and a glimmer of hope flashed across his face.
'Never heard of her.'
The look subsided and he sighed. He couldn't tell if it was a lie, or simply a truth, and he wasn't sure he needed to know. The fact that he belonged somewhere, kept his blood from boiling over. Boiling from the heat of the Firekin, and not his own demise.
"Aye, the sand will one day claim me," he echoed, and hoped that it would not be this day, by the hand of this Firekin. What did they call themselves? Ah yes, The Blood. Though Firekin was used more prominately by the slaves whom he mingled with so often. Act your part, he'd told himself, but found he often failed.
"I don't act out against The Blood," Mpaji answered, and what he said was true. He only fought against those he thought were not ordained to the title. Which, happened to be most of them. "Surely," he answered, taking it as a conversation, more than as a warning. "For you are of The Blood, and I am only a slave. But you have nothing for me, so in this moment, on this sand, we are for a moment, the same in the eyes of nature." Oh yes, it was a daring move, and he expected a scar because of it, or a good gash.
"You don't act out against me," Mpaji continued, his mind elsewhere, and clearly not thinking of what he said. "Is it because I worry you, or something else. You can have respect for a slave, and still keep them in their place." Kwana had showed it, Moto's was something different. The rest, they thought of him lowly. What of this lion?
Even as he spoke, the burning sands began to subside, and he was almost saddened that his company would soon be gone. He didn't like this one persay, but he had the destiny of a 'true Firekin' as Upendo'Mpaji thought it. Better than so many he had met before.
"Live long, master," he told him, and rose to face the dyin howls of the wind.
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Posted: Sat Feb 24, 2007 8:09 pm
Frankly, Tamu was impressed with this lion. Never had he met someone with the status of which Mpaji held, who managed to make him feel a bit out of place, a bit beaten. He quaked at the thought, angered and enraged, but only watched Mpaji with two, placid eyes.
It was the natural way of a Firekin to resent the slaves statement. More so that it implied that Tamu'meka, of royal blood [passed down indirectly of course...] was at even level with the help. His rounded ears rolled back, and he teased the grains that played at his paws. It was the natural way of the Firekin, but for Tamu; he found all he held against this lion was utter respect.
Mpaji worried Tamu, yes. But the male wouldn't say it, not even on his death bed would he proclaim it--or so he believed at this moment. He watched, quietly as the slave got to his feet, the sands calmed, and paced his way out into the wind. Tamu'meka was content with watching this, just sitting there and watching the beauty disappear into the distance, but it was meaningful and at this point the only thing he could do, that he say something to the slave, say something quite unlike his character.
'Mpaji.' He called, body lifting, seating itself on two, lean haunches. 'May we meet again, on other pretenses; where your status as slave and mine as blood do not battle to wits end, but mingle in a mutual peace.' He bowed his head, multi-colored man slipping into his features, and turned his body happily, walking in the opposite direction of where Mpaji wandered, not daring to look back.
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