[FIN] Everyone has a Story (Tarafa & Mittere)

[mouselet]

It wasn't a rumor, not yet. Not enough people knew. And yet she'd heard about the new lioness from several different sources. The Scouts and Guards spoke of a ravaged body, barely alive, a miracle of the Goddess. The Healers spoke of narrowed blue eyes that watched every move with suspicion. All spoke of pink fur, slashed by white scars. Tarafa had heard about the new lioness in the Kitwana'Antara in passing from many people on her rounds, and now she would go to the source.

In the heart of the pridelands were the dens of the sick and the dens where the injured were cared for. It was to the latter the blue lioness went, pausing outside the doorway. These dens saw a lot of use, and it wasn't the first time she had been in this one to speak with someone...

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and padded in. "Good evening," the Bard greeted the stranger, waiting to see what her reaction was.  

[mouselet]

This time it was the shadow blocking out the light that warned the pink lioness of impending company. The lengthening shadows of the dusk brought a darkening to the den, but it faced westward and allowed the last light of the day to enter. And another stranger lioness.

Mittere reflected on how interesting it was that all her visitors thus far had been female. Was the Kitwana'Antara one of those prides that insisted on females stepping aside for the males? It wouldn't be logical in a pride shaped by a deadly and incurable disease, for what if most of the males in a generation succumbed? The pride would be crippled if it was a male-dominant organization in that case. But it couldn't be that way anyway, else she would have been steered from her chosen path of Warrior to something more -ugh- gentle.

The blue lioness was different from the brown, Mittere noted. She was less shy and carried her head high. There was something in her air that was similar to Nawiri's in a way. The pink lioness wondered if she was highly ranked also.

Blue eyes watched blue eyes calmly. Mittere could be polite and respond to the greeting, but it just wasn't in her nature. So she watched her latest guest without a word.  

[mouselet]

All things considered, it wasn't the coldest reception Tarafa had received. Mentally shrugging, the blue lioness settled herself on the ground facing the stranger. She could engage in a silent staring contest, but that would be counterproductive. So...she would talk and, as a Bard would, listen.

"It's poignant, I think, that this den faces into the west and the setting sun. Like so much of the Kitwana'antara, it speaks of death without mentioning it." The blue lioness didn't mention that people she knew -more than one of them - had died in this very den. It wasn't something the stranger needed to know at this point.

"But I don't think dying is something that is on your mind," Tarafa went on. She could see before her the numerous scars, the fierce gaze. The muscles beneath the thin skin had been powerful and would be once more wehn the pink lioness had recovered. "No, I think you are one who brings death to others and one whom death passes by. Am I right?"

Never mind that she hadn't introduced herself and that she didn't actually know the stranger's name. The little she'd seen and what she'd heard made her think that it would be best to jump right in. And certainly she could find out little things like names later when she was putting the story together in a form that could be recited rhythmically for the pride.  

[mouselet]

Blue eyes narrowed even further as the blue lioness began to talk. Mittere was not and had never been a romantic - why dream of a better world that was never going to come as long as people sat around and dreamt about it? Not that she didn't think the world could be a better place, a person just had to be more proactive about it than sitting around dreaming.

She wondered though, what this stranger's point was. Why had she come here and why was she talking to the pink lioness? Well, no maybe that was a bit of a stupid question. A newcomer in any pride was a focus of curiosity and suspicion. But this one was different from the others. She was clearly not a Healer, nor a would-be Healer. And she sat up straight and carried herself the way a high-ranking lioness would. Mittere supposed that if you had nothing to do all day you could probably come up with an awful lot of romantic crap.

But the other had also asked her a direct question. About death, a subject that Mittere knew all too well. There was something...intriguing about her manner, her roundabout directness.

"I have always been a Warrior," the pink lioness answered.  

[mouselet]

Tarafa nodded her understanding. She had known that the pink lioness was probably a fighter of some type, but she hadn't known enough to guess any specifics. A Warrior though, was interesting. That meant that the stranger had dedicated her life to her craft, beyond simply protecting her pride. It also explained the many scars she bore that were white, not the red or pink of one still healing. She guessed that the pink lioness was younger than herself, perhaps Nawiri's age or younger, and that she had been fighting all her life.

The Bard considered it. The stranger's statement could be taken at face value for the simple truth.

"I wouldn't doubt it for a moment," she told the pink lioness. "And I do hope that you don't mind my hanging around. Anyone who has chosen the path of the Warrior is sure to have led an interesting life, and I am always interested in hearing those stories."

The blue lioness inclined her head, taking her eyes off of the stranger's for the first time since she arrived. "My name is Tarafa and I am a Bard of the Kitwana'antara. My specialty is the tales of everyday life that allow one generation to know another."  

[mouselet]

As the blue lioness spoke, a niggling suspicion crept into the pink lioness' mind. It was true that a Warrior's life tended to be a bit more...exciting...than the average civilian, but the way she spoke of it, and then mentioning the word "stories"...Mittere had a horrible suspicion.

Then the lioness - Tarafa - confirmed it. She was a Bard! Of all the awful luck! Normally at this point the pink lioness would get up and move somewhere else far away from the Bard...but her condition made that utterly impossible. And she refused to ask the Bard to leave because that was a sign of weakness and cowardice.

But...ugh. Bards did have their uses - a lion trained as one had a phenomenal memory and could carry an accurate report from one land to another. Their histories could also be picked apart for strategy, tactics...and the successes and failings of each. A Bard could stir up fervor for an upcoming raid, skirmish or even a war and sway dozens of young lions to join the military. A Bard could also speak a poignant piece at a funeral, remembering a fallen soldier.

They had their uses. But outside of preparing for war, fighting a war, or dealing with the aftermath of war they were the worst sorts of creatures. They were nosy to the point of insatiability, they were always poking around things that didn't concern them and they never ever forgot. So you couldn't tell a Bard that you would answer their question "later" because "later" they would come by and ask it of you. You just couldn't get rid of them! They were like a plague!

Mittere glared at the Bard in front of her.  

[mouselet]

Hrrrrm. Perhaps she had misjudged. She had managed to get a response out of the pink lioness before, but now they were back to the staring contest. The only thing that had really changed was that Tarafa had told the stranger her rank. She'd encountered both respect and derision for the path she'd chosen, but never outright hate before. It was...an unsettling reaction.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, deliberately breaking eye contact once more. "I don't mean to offend you or anything," she spoke, opening her eyes. "And I won't pester you if you really don't want to talk to me at all." Tarafa paused. "I can't - won't - promise than anything you say to me will stay out of a story, but anything you tell me you truly don't want to be known will stay between us." The stranger couldn't deny her fodder for her tales, but the blue lioness respected that some things had to remain private.

"And if you really want me to leave, I will. But," Tarafa's eyes twinkled mischeviously, "I would bet an entire antelope that you're getting mighty bored of this den by now. Bored enough that no matter how much you hate my profession, you won't chase me away."  

[mouselet]

The half-apology did nothing to allay Mittere's suspicions. What was she supposed to believe anyway? The blue lioness had said that anything she heard was liable to end up in a story...but she had also said that any secret she would keep. So what, the pink lioness would have to mention every time something couldn't be repeated? Eventually she'd forget and then the damned Bard would take advantage of her.

She ground her teeth as she realized that she'd just admitted to herself that this was just her first encounter with Tarafa. But the Bard (curse her) was right...Mittere had had enough of this den to last a lifetime and she still had weeks of recovery yet to come. At least she had hope of standing and walking on her own soon, which would at least allow her to get outside.

But she wasn't going to tell Tarafa any of that. The pink lioness remained where she was, glaring at the blue lioness and seething.  

[mouselet]

Tarafa frowned as the sound of the pink lioness grinding her teeth reached her white ears. That wouldn't do...but she wasn't sure what to do about it. And now it seemed the stranger was refusing to talk at all. Hm. Well, that just meant she'd have to be more creative. Her duty involved learning the stories the pink lioness brought to the pride, and the elders had always said that Tarafa would do all that was necessary to see her duties completed, even in those long ago days before Uzazi died...

Long ago days. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. "You know," she commented to the stranger, "I've often thought that the success of anyone or anything - be it individual or pride - depends on knowing and understanding what's happened in the past. I don't know what Nawiri's told you about the Kitwana'antara, but I think you might benefit from hearing what history we do know." She paused, eying the other lioness. When the other didn't react (though she'd stopped grinding her teeth), Tarafa continued.

"Long long ago there was a pride which thought themselves superior to all others. They closed their borders and cut themselves off from the world. They thought they were perfect. This displeased the gods, and the Goddess of Pestilence decided to teach them a lesson. She sent to them a rogue lion, ill and desperate. The pride refused to help the stranger, and he soon died.

Before long a sickness began to spread through the pride. Many fell ill. More died. Until at last only two survived. They wandered amongst the rogue lands, seeking others to help and aid them, trying to join or form a new pride, but the illness followed them everywhere, striking down so many lions that they were cheered only by seeing leopards, cheetahs, hyenas and others, who did not catch the sickness, it being a disease of lions only.

In time, the lions settled and formed a new pride, the Kitwana'antara. Our name menas 'a pledge to live with disease' and we worship the Goddess of Pestilence. We understand that death is an inevitable part of the cycle of life, and we do what we can to keep the disease within our own borders, but we still live our lives as any pride would. We are content with our lot, and know that simply because our pride is built around a plague doesn't mean that is the only death that will come to us. Indeed, it is only the fortunate whom the Goddess chooses to walk with her."  

[mouselet]

The pink lioness had hoped that the blue lioness would give up and leave after her silent refusal to cooperate. But then she had started talking sense. Mittere knew full well that she had seen strategists and tacticians make disastrous mistakes that could have been avoided if they'd only studied what their predecessors had done. It was, in fact, one of the reasons why she thought Bards valuable.

And then Tarafa began to tell the story and Mittere understood what it was that made the other lioness a Bard. This wasn't just a dry recitation of facts, though the pink lioness suspected that there were many details left out - whatever the reason, it wasn't important.

It wasn't just a well-told tale though. This was the history, the very origin of the pride. And hearing this, Mittere was able to begin to understand some of the disaparate pieces of information Nawiri had given her days ago. Tarafa hadn't mentioned whatever more recent disaster had cemented their worship of Pestilence, but that was something that people still remembered and had lived through. This was older.

And this touched a chord in Mittere she hadn't known was there. Hadn't she gone from pride to pride, offering her skill as a Warrior to those whom she thought she could help? Training their youngsters and leading them into death? Yes, she understood something of what those original members had experienced...though it was skewed a different way, of course.

And the Kitwana'antara existed, in a very real way, to protect the rest of the prides and the rogues from a plague that would likely never go away in any of their lifetimes - from Tarafa down to the cub that had visited the pink lioness mere days ago. This was why they needed Guards and Warriors on the borders. This was why they had brought her into the heart of the pridelands only because her wounds had been so severe. Everything fell into place in a way it hadn't before.

This revelation didn't mean that she was going to suddenly be nice and considerate to everyone. And she still didn't think much of Gerda and she still didn't trust Nawiri enough to confide to the Healer that she thought she might have the disease.

But it was another way to look at this pride she'd found herself trapped in. Tarafa had given her that. The pink lioness, however, was still a fighter and if she had to concede this round to her blue guest, she was going to do it her way, damnit!

"There's no way I'm telling you any stories tonight," she stated flatly. "A mere Warrior is no match for a Bard." The pink lioness couldn't sneer the last word after the masterly told story, but that didn't mean she liked Bards any better!  

[mouselet]

It was just as well that the pink lioness was silent for so long after she finished the story. That particular tale, being the founding of the pride itself, was a story she always wanted to do justice to and so she forced herself to see the tale unfold as she told it. Then it took her long minutes to return to the world of the present. It had seemed that her audience was listening raptly though, or at least intently. Which was something. Tarafa hadn't known what to expect of the stranger, especially given her dislike of Bards, but she was relieved that the lioness could at least appreciate the fruits of her labor.

Finally the stranger spoke again. And of all the things-! Tarafa couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. It was logical, really, she didn't usually put that much effort into a story when she wasn't trying to impress someone or compete for the pride's attention...but of all the things for the pink lioness to fasten on! The blue lioness retained enough control to keep from rolling around on the den floor, but it was a near thing as she laughed so hard tears streamed out of her eyes.  

[mouselet]

Of all the reactions Mittere had formulated and guessed at from the blue lioness...this wasn't one of them. She was...laughing! Hysterically! The pink lioness had never seen any laugh so hard...had never realized anyone could laugh that hard! Her mouth hung agape as she watched tears dampen the fur on Tarafa's cheeks, the lioness was laughing so hard.

"It's...it's not that funny!" Mittere spluttered, helpless to do anything which could possibly stop Tarafa's laughter.  

[mouselet]

The pink lioness' angry rejoinder only served to add more fuel to the fire. Tarafa howled with laughter until she was breathless. Panting, she finally managed to restore some semblance of control.

"I'm...I'm sorry. It's not that funny...but it is! I mean, you might not be able to tell a story like I can...but that doesn't mean you can't tell a story." She paused again to breathe. "But you know, I'm no Warrior. There's an awful lot you can do that I can't."

She was losing the battle against her laughter again, she could feel it. "But...you...should have seen...your face!" The blue lioness gave in again to the laughter.  

[mouselet]

All right, Mittere was now convinced. Tarafa was crazy. Though, admittedly, crazy didn't keep her from being right. As the pink lioness had already mentioned, she couldn't tell a story the way the blue lioness had. But the other was also right, Tarafa probably knew very little of combat, tactics and strategy in comparison to Mittere.

This was all well and good, but the question was...how to get Tarafa to stop laughing? Given her reaction to the pink lioness' last statement, the odds didn't look good.

Helplessly she watched the blue lioness laugh, still trying to figure out if there was anything she could do at all.  

[mouselet]

It was probably a good thing the pink lioness hadn't said anything else. Tarafa was finally able to get herself back under control, taking deep breaths and relaxing her aching lung muscles. She looked up at the stranger again and smiled calmly and cheerfully.

"Sorry about that! I think I had that one coming." It was the Bard's opinion that every now and then a person had to utterly lose control of themselves. Laughter was probably the least harmful way to do it and suited her personality best. But if the pink lioness hadn't laughed in the least, Tarafa knew now to keep an eye out for when her time came, for it was likely to be a problem for more than just the stranger.

"I wasn't really laughing at you, you know," she continued. "Just laughing in general. I really hope you'll forgive me for making a fool of myself like that."