This place...was odd. The lions were odd, the rituals, the culture- everything. But...he liked it. The lion was in good company from what he could understand. Every lion he'd encountered had a quirk of their own. A tan lioness couldn't remember a thing to save her life... it had taken seven times for her to address him by the right name- and that was only after he had made it clear, a count of eight times, that he wasn't a stranger. They'd been speaking for half the morning.
So he had to find a muse... he had to find a name to go by, he had to learn the ways of the pride, and...somehow learn to listen for a muse. Another voice in his head?
The lion needed a break. Away from everyone....except himself. He was always there. Finding a quiet nook by the ocean, his back to the rocks.
Amefungwa had been keeping tabs on the lion that was two lions in one body, and was happy to see him settling in with the pride. He still had no muse (maybe he'd have two muses, one for each lion sharing his head?) but he wasn't as cranky. The peace of the land was settling over him. She'd trailed him down to the beach and poked her head around some rocks. "Helloooo! Any luck yet?" She pranced up to sit beside him.
Shandor raised an eyelid and half-smirked as he was joined by the beach. Sweet solitude lost. Perhaps he needed company. Then, why would he seek solitude in the first place? Perhaps for attention. Perhaps.
"None." He rolled over onto his belly and dusted some of the sand off his mane. He'd have to grow used to the constant feel of gritty sand in his mane and under his paws- not a difficult thing to do but not entirely pleasant either.
She smiled at him. She felt something about him that reminded her of a cub, eager for his muse and to fit in, and impatient. She was surprised that he was taking to the new life so well and glad he was as well. "What've you tried so far? Lots of cubs go for easy things. Birds, flowers, trees, rocks. The sea gets lots, I hear. But sometimes you gotta wait and let it find you. I thought mine'd never come, then one stormy night it did!"
"Muses aren't something that you go looking for, they're somthing that come to find you." "At least that's how it's supposed to go..." He grumbled, curling a paw under his chest. He knew of muses but he'd never actually heard a name put to them. It was something that movied, something that inspired- something that...
Something that spoke to him?
"Perhaps I already have a muse. Just a loud one." "Whatever do you mean loud? You snore."
"Ahh, you think it's the other lion in your head? Nah that's not it. Lions aren't muses. I mean, they are, but they're muses that...went bad? Got broke? Something. They're not perfect. All lions are part of something bigger, like the sky or the sea or even things like bugs or lizards. When you find the right one it'll talk to you, and tell you your real name, and then for all your life it'll help you know what to do to un-break yourself, so when you die you can become part of what you once were again!" Surely he'd been told that already, but maybe he'd get it if she said it. "Lions, even ones that live in your head, can't be muses." She looked around and spotted some drift wood. "Why not try to talk to that?"
"Interesting...", it was certainly a pessimistic way to look at things. Before, he thought himself to be just fine. Just fine...and then some. His other side was a little moody- but then agian, he was a little passive. Perhaps he had to find something that was a good inbetween- or represented both. It was hard to say... all these new things to learn, traditions to memorize. It was a headache twice over.
"Perhaps whatever can fix me...now?" "Not that there's a lot that needs fixing." "Oh come now, you can't be serious!" "Serious enough! I'm just fine, perhaps it's you that needs fixing."
Ahh that look she knew too. She butted her head against his side. "Well you're not really broken. And it's not like you remember...whatever it was that made you not part of whatever spirit you come from. It happens to us all, obviously, and you should be happy, because in this land we CAN find our muses and get fixed and go back to being 'right'! If you were still a rogue you might never know, and then you'd just stay...well broken!" She patted the drift wood. "You gonna try? Or maybe the sand? Or the clouds? Or the sea? Try something!"
He made a face and slowly pushed himself up to a stand. He might as well give it a shot, at least then she couldn't scold him for laying around all day. Still- it was his belief that his muse would just find him.
"The sand...really? This annoying stuff?" He reached a paw down and dragged his claws through the sand beneith him, then raised a paw up to inspect the grains left behind. They got everywhere. In his ears, his nose, his mouth, his mane... he was afraid to look anywhere else.
"The clouds are out- so flighty. Here today, gone tomorrow. No dependability. What inspiration is there?" He glanced up, shaking his paw out and returning it down to the ground. Not to mention- they brought rain.
"The sea's a noisy thing... too... confusing. Where does it go? Where does it lead? Why does it come up further during high moons?"
She watched him looking over things and chuckled. Well he was getting the idea at least. "Why not ask it, huh?" She jogged towards it and splashed about, swiping at it and sending some back his way. "It'd know better than I. I have explanations, things lions have come up with, but if the sea's your muse, you'll be able to understand it on a whole different level! Come on then...it won't bite!"
Ask it. What a suggestion. Both of himself could agree with that at least. Sand had no voice, at least not to him. Clouds were too flighty to care, and the sea likely couldn't even hear itself think. If it had a mind to think with.
He shook his head, critical eyes drifting upwards and about. Rocks, birds, leaves, trees... none of it appealed to him.
"Perhaps I'll just keep an ear open on my own."
