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 Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2008 5:00 am
There was no use in moving; even if he could have drawn enough strength to stand up, there was nowhere to go. He was trapped in the darkness of a den, his breathing harsh, his pelt still marred with blood, grime and filth. He refused to clean it though, as if such a thing were almost symbolic in some twisted way only he could see.
There was nothing he could do. Except think. So that's what he spent his unholy time doing; thinking.
The darkness was oppressive yet welcomed by the male. After all, he was used to the darkness well enough. He'd spent his whole life in it; that's where he'd thought he'd spend his whole life... yet something had happened. A golden paw outstretched, light in color, offering him a way out. He'd taken that paw and everything had changed.
He'd always thought her to be obnoxiously annoying. Frustrating, even. All she did was hang around him when they were cubs, her nose wiggling as if she were trying to sniff the secrets out of him. Looking back, he could clearly recall snapping at her, pushing her aside by all means, yet she would never yield. Most surprising of all, was the fact she could distinguish him apart from the 'other'. No one else could distinguish them apart.
No...
That wasn't true. That wasn't right.
They could distinguish them apart all right; he could tell by the way their eyes had narrowed... the way their expressions had darkened when he'd spoken to them. They could distinguish him apart from the 'other', they just wouldn't acknowledge it, as if doing so would make it all the more real. He could recall the frustration he'd felt back then whenever he was spoken to. They used the other's name on him, and each and every time he'd snap at them; he wasn't him! Stop calling him that! It was to no avail though, for they'd always nervously laugh it off.
But they knew. He knew they knew. He could see it in their eyes; the truth shone there, dark, untouched, and all he could do was turn to darkness and wallow. Then, she had come that day again; a bright little thing. Despite both of them being the same age... merely cubs, she barely reached his shoulder. He'd always found that rather fascinating, really. That day though, he'd not been in the mood; he'd peered at her over his shoulder, narrowing blood red eyes in warning, his pelt bristling at her mere presence.
She'd shamelessly ignored the warning and had, instead, peered to see what he was doing; blood had covered the ground in front of him, where he'd been torturing an innocent lithe bird he'd managed to catch, "What're you doing?" she'd chirped at him, and for some reason beyond his comprehension, her words were laced with curiosity, as if once again trying to see right through him... right through his actions.
"Something really, really bad!" he'd snapped back at her with a snarl, "That way, they'll know. That way they won't mistake me for him any longer!" he was so frustrated by it all that it was slowly eating at him. His tiny claws racked through the meat and blood, his eyes closing at the sensation, "Go away. I don't like you either," he'd mumbled then, focusing on the massacre before him. I'm not him, he thought to himself, further heightening his anger.
She didn't yield though. She would never yield.
Instead, the girl had tilted her head to one side, a mild frown creasing her lovely features (For they were lovely indeed, even at such a young age), "No," she'd said, surprising him mildly, and then to his further surprise, she'd drawn nearer, looked over his shoulder and wrinkled her nose, using her head to push him away from his work, "You know..." as she pushed him away, she paused, turning to glance up at him, smiling faintly for reasons yet beyond him, "I know you're not him," at the time, he could remember being rattled by her words; it was the first time anyone had said that. The first time anyone had admitted to it...
"How would YOU know?" his growl had been defensive, frustrated... drained by what he'd been doing, however, his eyes seeked hers, unsure if she meant what he thought she meant.
"I know you're not him," she'd stated plainly with a small tilt of her head, as if really, it couldn't be any more obvious. His subsequent scowl must have silently voiced his previous question without him needing to use words because the girl had then let out a sigh, "You're different," she'd told him, pushing him still till he sat awkwardly sprawled, his back against a rock, his escape route blocked by the girl's lithe, delicate from, "You're different here," she'd said as her paws had reached his face; they set upon his pelt, making him gasp at the contact, "Here," she'd continued, drawing them to the lines of his maw, "Your smile is different, and so is your frown. Your mouth is different," she'd then pushed her touch upward, till it reached his brows, "And the way you frown... the lines of your brows, they're different too," with a smile, she'd drawn back from him. She sat there, smiling with her eyes closed, as if she'd just shared a big secret with him.
Maybe she had.
He was unable to move though, back then. He'd sat there gapping at her, not only because she'd managed to see through what every other was so focused on ignoring, but because she'd touched him. Not even his own mother touched him; they'd all do their best to stay away when he was there. There were no accidental touches, no brushes of love, and no baths from his mother; those were reserved for the 'other'. So thus, unable to move, and unable to talk, he found himself merely staring at her, gapping openly, like a fish out of water.
"Kibaya!" she'd chirped then, obnoxiously proud of herself, she'd even clapped her lithe young paws together, smiling at him. Why did she smile at him?
"Huh?" Beyond confused, all what he'd been able to offer her, was a scowl, his back still pressed against the rock, "What?"
"Kibaya," she repeated with a nod, as if rolling the word over her tongue, tasting the feel of it against her teeth. After a moment, she turned to him again and winked, "That'll be your name; Kibaya!" she leaned in to press her nose against his, forcing him back still, till his head hit the rock behind, his claws sinking into the ground, "Because you're different from 'him'," she'd said, "You need a name too; to make you different. You'll be Kibaya," leaning away from him again, she motioned towards the mangled bird that lay a short distance from them, "Kibaya; because you did 'something really, really bad' so that others would notice you."
She'd named him. It had been such an innocent action... however, she'd unknowningly sealed her fate to his, that day.
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Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2008 12:27 pm
Grunting softly, Kibaya lifted his head just barely off the ground; even such a small movement burned at his muscles, and thus, he allowed it to drop once more, growls ripping through his chest. The sounds ended up in fit of cough that hacked blood up his throat. A moment of silence before he closed his eyes against his will and spat on the floor. How long had he been in this god forsaken den? How long had it been since.... since...
Did it matter?
You're deranged!
Her voice rang through his mind and had his eyes not been closed already, he'd have forced them shut; as it was he pressed them shut even further if possible, till he saw white spots behind his lids. Deranged, she'd said. It'd been the first time she'd ever said that to him. Never had she thought such a thing, or at least, if she'd thought it, she'd never voiced such a claim.
After she had named him, he'd grown more and more used to her presence; she was always there. Whenever he woke up, from sleep of simply out of the darkness, she was there, and she'd notice, even when others didn't. Her smile was always there, and the whisper of his name on her tongue as she welcomed him to the world, as if he mattered. As if he were wanted in the world. Of course, he knew she'd been there because she'd been by the other him's side before he'd opened his eyes, but somehow, the thought had never bothered him back then.
They had been cubs, after all, and her smile had been all he'd needed. It had always confused him beyond belief to see her smile at him... for him. Why? Why did she do that?
It had been on one of those random afternoons that he'd first breathed the words at her; it had been a day just like any other... there had been nothing different about it than the previous day, and there would be nothing different about it from the next day, he was sure of it. However, he'd felt the overwhelming need to voice it out loud.
"You're mine," he'd told her that day; he'd woken up to find her curled against his side. There was no doubting she and his other him had been playing and they'd lay down to rest for a while. That was fine by him, really. Why should it matter? The smile she'd offered him as soon as he'd opened his eyes was his though; only his, and despite both of them being young, he'd felt something inside him. Something. What was that? What was that feeling? He wasn't sure, but it was that feeling, that something that had dragged the words out of him, "You're mine, you know?" he'd repeated, and she had only only smiled further, as if amused by the claim.
"Really?" the words were tinged with mirth, and the smile twitched into life again.
Leaning in, he initiated the contact this time; usually, he pulled away from her, the lithe female more prone to being playful than he was, "Yeah," he said as he took a n** at her ears, and then his eyes had closed and he'd allowed himself to fall asleep once more, feeling her against his side, like she always seemed to be. She was like a small flame in the darkness... a small light; like a firefly shinning in the night.
And that was that; she'd been 'his' ever since. It'd been nothing more than a childish claim in her eyes, no doubt, but it meant so much more to him; there was an underlying message within those simple words that even she had not been able to decipher. She'd grown used to those words to a point it had become routine for him to say it, and her to joke back at him, but still, that smile was his; it was his and only his, and that had been all that mattered to him.
Another groan ripped through the male's body as he opened his eyes into the darkness, his vision blurry yet enough to distinguish his surroundings; the only source of light came from the small opening by the large boulder that blocked his path. It illuminated the darkness of the pit he was trapped within, however, he was not ready to surrender. Not yet.
He could smell her faintly.
It was what he was holding onto; it was, without a doubt, the only thing that was keeping him alive. By all means, he should have been dead by then. He'd had very little water, and no food at all; the lions here had given him something to drink, but had kept food from him. With good reason, he thought grimly, darkly... had they given him food, he'd have probably been able to smash his way to her. As it was though, he clung to her scent, as if it were a lifeline, and even in his sleep, he tried to reach out to her subconsciously. Could she feel him?
"I can feel you there, Kibaya, stop stalking. It's going to scare them away," the young lioness had looked over her shoulder at him, as if reprimanding him before she turned to glance towards the tall, dark grass around them. Night had fallen and the star twinkled above, but her eyes were not trained on them; she was focused on the small fireflies that buzzed over around her, a faint smile reaching her maw, when he came out of hiding and joined her, "Aren't they lovely?"
He hadn't answered her though, because he was sure, had he opened his mouth, he'd have voiced something else; he'd have embarrassed himself. He'd frowned instead, "What so special about them? They're just bugs."
Her head had turned towards him then and she winked knowingly, playfully, "They're a small, bright light in the darkness."
Again, he had refused to answer what was in his mind and had instead turned to look gruffly away, scowling. He'd realised something that night though; she was a light in his darkness.
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