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 Posted: Sat Aug 01, 2009 1:14 am
 Lounging about in the shadows of a tree close to where the group of lions were gathering, Mazimwi'koya had been watching everybody very closely. Their body language and expressions told their story and he didn't need to be listening to everything was said. Though, he managed to catch parts of the conversations going on. Comments about the Mizimu'tungika and about practicing your skills instead of idle chatter. It seemed like some of the lions were bickering and Mazimwi thought that seemed useless. They were all supposed to be on the same side and even though they all probably had different reasons for being here, their goal was the same.
Mazimwi saw himself as a lion of no importance. Before the Dhati, he was just a lowly rogue that had no attachments to anything and the only reason why he was here was for somebody else. His entire life had been all about himself and all of a sudden, all he cared about was one lioness. This transition had been strange for him but she completed him; she was everything that he needed. That was all he needed to know and it was clear that he would do anything for her. The small pelt around his foreleg was proof of this.
Before he realized what he had been dragged into, Mazimwi didn't understand the severity of the dissent of the rebellion. There was trouble a brewing but it was going to get violent... soon. There were some that were very restless and wanted to take action now. Honestly, he could do without the drama and the trouble because he couldn't even fathom the despise some of these lions felt for the Mizimwu. He was just a pawn in this play and his fate didn't look too great at this point.
Yawning lazily, the lion stretched out in the sunlight watching the greetings in front of him.
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2009 6:07 am
"Spiders you say, Bakunja? In addition to being a storyteller?" came a response, quickly as Malaika deemed it polite enough, as ears perked up and sharp smile flashed upon hearing the word, "You ought to meet my elusive father one day, then, if we're going to proclaim our similarities to them."
It was an odd coincidence that the two traits the webbed male drew from reminded Malaika of her own father, and previously, when she had thought that no one else in the pride would come remotely close to rope her interest, perhaps now there was one. It was clear to her now that she should make a note to seek him out in the future, perhaps when there weren't many others to meddle in matters of ones who held more worth or possessed some sort of value, whether it be intellectual or not. Then--maybe then she could truly evaluate his character without the distractive inconveniences.
The more he spoke and seemed to admire her, the more her smile subconsciously widened; she knew he was a smart one by the things he said, unless it was all put on for a show. Whatever the case, it was gratifying to know that at least someone in the Dhati realized her underlying significance--it was something she could get used to, to say the least.
As Bakunja went on his tale, Malaika noticed the rich brown and frowning male approaching, sharing an audience with her in front of the speaking male. When Bakunja was done, she had little chance to respond before she heard the stranger make a joke out of his assessment, and though it was not very inaccurate, all she had to offer was a light sneer and nod of acknowledgment.
And to Bakunja, she shook her head at once, expression unchanging, and said, "No regrets," and she meant it--it wasn't hard for her to not feel any form of sadness or remorse, having been raised without much compassion, so that left little emotion for the dark lioness to fully recognize herself.
"You are well weathered, and that is what brings out more knowledge in most."
The tale didn't strike a nerve or compel her to offer pity, though it left a meager question in her mind as to whether that could possibly suffice as a precise detailing of his life until now, and whether it had all been true. Surely a lion that speaks of traps is a sinister one, and there had to have been more to the past than that one summary of an account. She realized then, that the one called Bakunja had perhaps just ensnared her himself, and cursed his present appeal. But at least she noticed her entanglement in his character, and awareness was half of what mattered.
Malaika turned back to the brown male that had offered the snide remark previously, hearing another resent-filled complaint, and had to chuckle at the old lion's analogies. It wasn't often that she came across silly comments like that.
"Even if that was true of Bakunja, old man, what do you have to offer before your deathbed? I am sure you are itching to be on your toes, using no more than your own teeth and claws, so why don't you? You have your pick of the young ones, who could provide a formidable challenge for an aged warrior. It could do some well to teach them before they are tested."
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 11:17 am
The older male mused as a grin tugged at the corner of his maw. "Oh? Perhaps one day if time allows me," he chuckled. For who knows when ones personal time would expire or give way? With the life that was given one was best to cherish it and take hold of it- to never squander or regret what they would do with such precious time. One could barter for trinkets and material things but it seemed that time was invaluable and an individual could never retrieve the time they had lost.
Silently the cogs of his mind continue to turn, reflecting ideas and tumbling about contemplative thoughts as odds and ends were slowly becoming refined and meticulously dwelled upon. His very diction and speech which flowed from his maw was his own as there was no need for a show. Bakunja was no entertainer and the words he spoke had no purpose but to speak what he felt and thought openly. He hadn't intended an audience and seeing the rather disgruntled male before him only caused the spider webbed male to flick his ears as they flattened against his head slightly, somewhat unsure of the newcomber. His jest was brushed over as his analysis of his own character made by the brash male was one that simply held judgment and had taken a jab at a first encounter. For one so old it seemed that the rich brown male was rusty in assessing situations and individuals- his claws, perhaps, were sharp but in eagerness to shed first blood against the Mizimu it appeared that his intellect had long fallen short and dulled. One could not live on strength alone and when intelligence and strategy were left out of the equation one had a recipe for disaster. From his looks he seemed well experienced in the art of war and certainly he would do wonders in teaching those who were eager and needed to hone in their skills but he seemed rather aggressive when it was unnecessary.
Exhaling softly Bakunja smiled. "Good," he replied. "Regrets are silly things anyways. It's only best to look towards the future." There was no need for sadness or remorse- the older male didn't require any and nor would he take it. Life had twisted and turned his path for him to be here this very moment and it had left the spider webbed male to believe that it was for a purpose.
This was destiny, fate even, and Kunja embraced it with open paws.
"Ah, perhaps I am. I may be well weathered but there still is more weathering I can endure."
Pity was unnecessary and whether such a personal account was true was for its listener to decide. As a spinner of webs Bakunja also was quite a spinner of knowledge; his old age had brought him face to face with situations and lessons that certainly could be told to others if only to enlighten them on what not to do- a trial and error that could be understood through his own past mistakes. Behind that rather warm expression there abode something much more that had yet to be unearthed or brought to the surface- even Bakunja himself remained somewhat oblivious of what laid in wait inside of him. He had always believed he was a rather simple lion who demanded little out of the world around him yet embedded within him there was something that he could offer the world, something that the spider webbed male could thrust upon his surroundings and create. Far from being a darkened soul who constantly feasted on bloodshed and misfortune, Kunja was something different, something peculiar. It was hard to put a paw on exactly what it was yet ever so slightly he knew it was there and, likewise, seemed to wait for when he could harness it.
More and more the male was slowly finding himself to admire the lioness. She too was a smart one and perhaps through this interaction he could, if she obliged that is, seek her assistance in weaving a few webs. It was refreshing to have found someone else who was intuitive, sharp and rather clever. Malaika bore a significance that could become a vital key in the future.
As yet another comment seemed to remark from the brown male Bakunja rose a deep chuckle from out of his chest. What was there to say? Bickering with someone was something that never had interested the spider webbed male and being so Bakunja simply sat in his place rather amused as his tail flicked with a contemplative motion. This figure was rugged, worn with the appearance of a fearless individual whose countenance screamed warrior although it also seemed to vocalize an impatience and eagerness. The comment made was interesting, rather a unique visualization painted with great clarity and only seemed to cause the webbed male to let a grin stretch across his maw.
For now he simply listened, perking his ears upward as he pursed his lips. Others were free to say what the believed yet those who spoke too soon and made assumptions right off the bat were somewhat of an annoyance. Rushing into things, even speaking too soon, would only create a downfall for the reckless. All the more intrigued, Bakunja waited for a pending response.
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