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His large form moved swiftly, and somehow, elegantly, through the swamps -- weaving between trees, and jumping over large protruding roots, as he ran. Domevlo was after something. His ears were perked and his glassy gold eyes were trained on it. He was advancing. The distence between rustle in the reeds and ripples in the water before him was getting smaller and smaller. He was about to pounce, but then, from the murky water, a loud splash sounded, as a crocodile lept out, and in its jaws, took Domevlo's target - a rabbit. Domevlo stopped just short of having lept. His eyes widened at the sudden sight.

The croc seemed satisfied enough, though, having stolen the large lion's prize, and swam off. Domevlo let out a sigh.
"You probably needed it more than me," he said aloud to himself, in a voice soft enough to be mistaken for a whisper, but that held a roughness, as if it were seldom used.

A cool wind blew, and Domevlo looked to the sky - through the canopy of the trees, the sky was a warm orange. Night was soon to come. So, Domevlo turned, and headed back to the heart of the pride's lands. He was in no hury, though. He just wanted some distance between himself and that crocodile before night was upon them both.

Domevlo was walking by the area, just as the lioness resurfaced. Thinking it was another crocodile at first, he tansed, ears flattened, and eyes narrowed. His expression promptly changed, when he noticed,.. It wasn't a crocodile.

"And what crime has the log commited?" He asked in jest, walking towards the dirty lioness.

"No. The logs have been nothing but compliant. I was heading back to the heart of the lands, after having lost my quarry to a hungrier beast than I." Domevlo explained with much amusement.

He smiled as best he could, although the action never came out quite right, looking more like a grimace, or a smirk.

"Now, might I ask why is it that you desire to cross the villainous log? It is perhaps not best to play in the water. The beast that stole my dinner dwells swiftly within them, and in the coming night, it would be a shame for it to take you as desert."

"Domevlo," He introduced. "Indeed, we haven't."

A cool wind blew, promising late night storms. Once again, he cast a golden-eyed stare up to the sky, where warm hues were begining to give way to cool blues.

"Perhaps we should head home?"
Sure enough, the entire swamp was 'home,' but more specifically, for Domevlo, it was the dry isle amidst the swamp, where the pridal dens lay. Outside of that, one could go all day without seeing another, but once inside, it reminded Domevlo that he was finally a part of a community, and that was something he thought he would never have.

Beginning the small journey home, Asha was just about dwarfed next to Domevlo. He cared little about what a mess she had gotten in - in fact, he had no right to judge. He was just thrilled each time his own lack of aesthetic pleasantry was looked over.

"I occassionally patrol, doing odd jobs here and there," he explained.

Domevlo had monumentous patience - questions he could deal with. He happened to be fairly long-winded himself, sometimes.

"Only when I'm not needed for anything else. It does, sometimes, though. Occassionally though I'll find someone looking to gain entrance into the pride. I'll admit, I'm not the most trusting of outsiders, and I have my reasons for that, but I have seen some that remind me that the world outside these lands does has some virtue."

"I,..hn," Domevlo began, on the topic of bad experiences. His story was truely etched on every part of his face. In the end, he inded up meerly nodding.

"No, I do not mind listening. I'm always doing something. I've never had a need for 'free time'. After all, all I have is the pride. Serving it in whatever way possible is the only think I could think of doing. This place accepted me when all others did not. For that, I owe it my everything."

His whole life - or what he could remember of it anyway - had been spent looking for love and acceptance. Somewhere in there darkness had beset in his once kind and benevolent soul, but in the end, that too dissipated, and once more the persuit continued. But once the search was over, a new one began.
The psychology of the large lion was one large, never-ending spiral. Like life, death, and rebirth,...

"Some prides are vain. Others are intimidated,..." he shrugged. "Attack trees?" Domevlo furrowed a brow. As she explained, he got a vague idea of what she meant. "Isn't that a bit dangerous? If you were to somehow get hurt,..." Well, he just hoped someone would be nearby to help.