The pride had been an interesting one to be sure. There was a certain morbidity to the atmosphere that made it seem almost cozy for a god like Neltharion. Certainly it wasn't (his ideal) heaven on earth, but it was closer than much of what he'd seen before. Lions here accepted death, embraced it even. They, perhaps, even knew that their end was swiftly approaching. And they were taking steps to be sure they would have a place after the worthless had been weeded out.
The god's paranoia had warped his perception of the pride. What he saw was an altered version of what really was. The pride sought a bettered future, true, but it wasn't because they knew he would soon enough rain down ruin on the world he found unworthy. Regardless, he'd begun to think that this little patch of mortality might be spared his wrath. They had colors that were mostly pleasing to his eye, and a good healthy fear and respect of the immortal. Of course, they idiotically thought they too were immortal, after a fashion. He knew better. But that little issue hadn't been enough to sway his eventual decision.
He would bless the pride; he would leave a part of himself behind after he had gone on to strike down other lands. A blessing in their powers of sight, and a curse with his own foul temper, he would hope. Now he just had to find the right vessel... someone strong, but of the right mindset. He'd quickly singled one female out, and delighted in the irony of his choice. Today he finally approached her den, and without preamble, bellowed to her. "Malaika! Come out and let me have a look at you!"
A dark body lay crumpled inside the den; nothing moved, and a daily passerby may have deduced that it had been there for days, dead, and not worthy enough to move. It seemed depleted of life; drained of its essence for sure, but there was still some breath stirring within the folds of black. A sliver of the body’s orange eyes could be seen through just the slightest opening, its gaze far beyond the direction of the pupil.
The lioness had been used, battered, but not torn apart; she’d only wished that had come sooner. But she was still here, still battled with herself over the wonders of what she had left to contribute to the world. Her visions were dark, blurred, and grew fainter as the days passed; yet, there were some that alluded to a strong, dark presence in the future... She, in her weakened state, could not quickly conclude what it was, and left it alone. After all, she had been so tired, and wanted the freedom and liberation from her drained body, as enslavement would not seem to pass over anytime soon.
So the days continued to pass by the used soul; the royal cubs she had been feeding were growing, tearing up her body even further, but also taking more time outside to do whatever it was that Sakata ordered to learn. She almost didn’t care anymore; if she was to be the supplier of the pride’s future’s health, may her curse have an unprecedented effect on them. This she didn’t even bother to humor anymore. There seemed to be no hope for the dark lioness and her withering body, and now, soul.
And a call came again. It was like the one she received so long ago; the call, no, order for her body to be used. It came from Sakata, and so the first instinctual thing was to snarl at the sound. But something about the voice was very much different, even though the words and tone within almost held the same quality. She knew it was different, and so Malaika was able to at once rise on her unstable arms, pulling into the den’s entrance without another hesitation. It was not Sakata, the large and looming leader of the Mizimu, but someone...much larger, and someone who placed the strength in Malaika to raise her head.
Still at the edge of her den’s entrance, she nodded once, slowly, orange eyes opening to reveal more of themselves and the spiteful life she still lived for.
Neltharion had known very well that the lioness in the den was not dead. The stink that filled his nose was one of ripe, rich hatred, not the decay of death. Both were pleasant enough to him, but the former was ever so much more delicious... Yes, this husk of a lioness would do well.
He inspected her in silence for a time, noting scars both old and new. He'd been told in detail about her, her relations to the rulers, and her once-great schemes. Her fall and punishment had also been finely detailed. A pity. She would have once been a magnificent thing. He was old and smart enough to know there wasn't much left for her now. But maybe, just maybe, he could offer her something. After all, she'd been giving him the most delicious sustenance he'd had in decades, all on her own.
He knew well she could not speak, but he would find a way to get around that. His eyes burned into hers, probing for a certain something. Apparently he found what he was looking for, and after a moment he bared his teeth in a macabre mimic of a smile. "You have fallen far, Malaika. You stand there, wasted, a husk of your former self. I know what's been done to you; you need not speak." He raised a brow at her, gave a cursory sweep of the area--no one else was near, as he'd planned--and resettled his wings. "You are not long for this world. You know this. But there may be one last thing you can do to ensure that you are more than a pitiful slave at the end of all things."
Malaika watched, breath almost halting at the sight of the grim, dark, but magnificent beast that stood before her. He towered quite beautifully in his godly glory; he was like none other she had seen. He was not like the damned black and orange goddess who ruined everything she had built up, either; his dark was much like Malaika’s own – very dark, almost blending into a perfect black night, and his orange, though flowing around his body brightly, seemed filled with power that much interested her.
She watched him as he did the same, and felt almost ashamed to be in his presence. She, who put all beings below her to use for her own deeds, could not feel compelled to fathom anything for the stranger. Without her abilities, she would not have known that such a meeting could take place in her current state. But she knew there was something else to be drawn from this encounter, and it was her own doing that made her the most worthy candidate for whatever the god sought.
A weak, contorted smile came as his words fell upon her again. They were blunt, insulting, but spoke the truth even, perhaps. She was half surprised that he knew about her; she had thought Sakata, as a more damaging punishment, told the pride to take no notice of her again. Perhaps Sakata’s attempts at thwarting her importance had gone awry, for her deeds were too strong in the minds of the Mizimu.
When told by the god that her end was near, her smile widened unconsciously, and then she opened her tongue-less mouth to let out a rasp of some form of assent or encouragement; of course she couldn’t speak, and even though her tongue was her main source of power before, it was not the only thing she could use to wreck havoc. But what was the god intending to do? Her mind, slower than before from the months of wasting away, was not able to comprehend what she needed to do at the present moment. So she inched a claw-less paw forward, digging it painfully deep into the rocky dirt before her, and started scratching. Once she was done, a crude depiction of herself and the god could be seen. She drew lines across herself, and a line starting from the god towards her figure. Once done, she raised her bruising paw and looked at her guest. Was he going to kill her? Was that going to help him and her in some way to damage the Mizimu?
The god waited with nearly infinite patience for the female to make some sort of gesture to him. He, of course, had endless time. It was for her sake that he felt the need to rush somewhat, a rare thing indeed from one who found mortals so unworthy as he did.
He let her do her drawings, understanding that she felt this was necessary. He chortled when she motioned she was done. She wanted him to kill her? An amusing thought... He knew quite well that her hate for this world was ample to make her wish for death. But dead she'd be no use at all. Except maybe as a snack for him and his brood. "I am afraid that joy is saved for another time. No, Malaika, I will not kill you. But, should you desire it, I will redeem you."
"The pride has laid you low, reduced you in body, mind, and stature. A lowly slave, a torn toy for royal cubs. The children of your nemesis. No claws, no tongue, thankfully you have enough of a mind left to perhaps grasp the offer I give you." A splatter of lava dripped out of him onto the drawing of himself. It oozed and sizzled towards the drawing of her and swamped it before hardening into a solid stone, leaving the ground unblemished once more.
"I cannot remake your body, you mortals are too fragile. But I can give you something to live for, a way to be sure that your legacy will go on even after your spirit is gone from this place. Perhaps, even, a way you could inherit a new body, one that is sacred and untouchable by those who now torment you. At the very least, I can lift you from this lowly rank of slave."
Somehow, she was soothed by the silence in waiting the great god before her was displaying. Malaika didn't lie to herself--her disabilities were a great disadvantage to her in interaction with others, but she tolerated the shame that was inherent in this tragedy. She thought nothing of the male's laugh, accepting it.
When he began his speech, Malaika stared intently, gaze faltering only when he denied her death. If she could not offer her life to him, then there were so few other things she could do in her state...
She didn't flinch when he recounted the result of her fall; it didn't seem to be insulting as much as if it had come from one the the pride members belittling her. In fact, it seemed as if the god before her delighted in the news, reveling in what had brought all the punishments upon Malaika. She could then tell that there was something she did not know about this god that she liked even more. Perhaps his domain spoke to her despite being unaware of it. Whatever her enchantment was that drew her closer to the god, Malaika would have admitted that the slow torture she was suffering under Sakata's commands made her mind inactive, and there was no denying her limited capacity for escape or even function. But she still was the same vengeful soul, perhaps not as sharp as before and slowly spiraling into psychosis, but her passion for hate had not flickered out within the depths of her being.
As the god began his offer, Malaika stepped onto the liquid-formed rock; she felt lingering power within this detachment of the god and wanted to draw closer. She was definitely interested, mind quickly working as it had once before to realize what he was implying. She could not deny the rising excitement in her fur. But she did not believe in reincarnation, at least not by natural means. The spirits of the Mizimu were foolish, but if there was a way she could contribute to future chaos for the Mizimu... she would go through whatever pains it took to do that.
She nodded curtly; it was understood to her already that it was a business deal between the two and nothing more. It was like Malaika to deal with things in this manner; without emotion, and as efficiently as possible to set things in motion.
The god nearly laughed at her response. Here maybe was some lingering portion of whom she'd once been. Serious and curt, understanding what needed to be done to get the results she sought.
"So you understand..." He rumbled, appraising her in perhaps a more positive light. "But do you really? It will be painful, you know. Though I doubt pain is a stranger to you. The reward would be great though, for your services rendered. Fine cubs...blessed with size and strength, and sight..."
He nodded to her and glanced around. "Of course you are a slave. You will be questioned, your willingness tested...Yet still you accept?"
Not a flinch came at the laugh; though it was directed at her, it was not laughter like Sakata's or the others that mocked her downfall. It was the first laugh and only laugh she welcomed, and the god's further words made her enjoy his humor even more so.
Malaika had no second doubts about her position, his, and the possibility of what she would endure - especially if the god, judging by his large size and intimidating frame, had more but necessary pain to add to her trials' worth.
A humored and perhaps cold sniff of a snicker came at his description of their union's results. The strong blood in Malaika would be enough to yield greatness, but the stronger blood of the black god's may just be something to turn things around for Malaika, and perhaps even for the Mizimu... And they would be seers, like her; however, they would be given a greater chance for success. She would not be as surrendering as her mother was.
And as the god's final question came, she paused, though never taking her bright, glowing orange eyes off of his, and bowed her head. Come what may, Malaika was never one to turn down such... great offers.
Her boldness amused the god. Yes, he'd made the right decision in coming to her. The pain would be great--but she had suffered before, and accepted it as necessary. The challenges would be many--she was willing to run the gauntlet. And of course, the reward...well worth it all, given she survived the ordeal. And even if not, as long as his offspring thrived she would find some satisfaction even in death. Indeed, a better bargain would be hard to come by.
"The deal is struck then, Malaika. Your service shall be noted, and your future ensured. We will be certain of it. Your pride will recall you from now until its dying days, through your children and their legacy you shall live on even after your bones are little more than dust in some lonely cave. They shall remember their treatment of you and wonder at their foolishness, yes."
In his eternal mind her time was wearing ever thinner. Mortals were so faint, so fleeting...she had many years left, true, but to him it seemed little more than the batting of an eyelash. Time was of the essence. And as a slave, surely someone would come seeking her to do some meaningless work soon enough. The time had come to do the job and secure the results before there could be any interference, or hesitation on her end. He lifted a lone brow at her, testing her readiness.
Malaika took the words in as a blessing, letting it fill her entire spirit despite the fact that she did not know what exact powers the god before her had. She was ready for this second chance at what could be the closest she could call romance in her life; she was grateful that she had indeed not given birth to Magadi's cubs. For these, her firstborns, would gain greater worth in the eyes of the Mizimu in spite of that loss.
Anticipation rose, but Malaika knew well how to shield her beating heart and mind from such situations.
She took one step towards him, a step forced with what power was left in her, and lowered her eyes to embrace whatever the god had in store for her. As she came to him, she acquiesced what was left of her body, completely and willingly.
