Welcome to Gaia! ::

Taraxa hadn't given much thought to the newest squadron of cubs that had been wandering around. He had been a little irritated that Nymph had given birth to a litter that wasn't his, and he was baffled by the little furry costumes that she forced them to wear, but other than that he hadn't given the whole ordeal a whole lot of his time. It didn't concern him, and Nymph had taken a mate that Taraxa could only assume had fathered her litter of cubs.

Lucky b*****d.

Loud snores rose from Taraxa's slumbering form as he napped in a dusty hole he'd made for himself. The sun was almost always shining on this sweet little dusty napping spot, and he spent as much time as he could here.

Tazira hadn't been back in the pride for long, really. The first cub she'd met had been one of Taraxa's kids -- he was a cutie, that was for sure, and the genes that were strong in both Taraxa and Tazira had carried on in his cubs. The same back stripes, the same yellow colors. All-in-all Taraxa's spawn had been quite stunning and they were all pretty smart kids, something that Tazira took full credit for.

They certainly hadn't gotten their brains from their father.

It wasn't until recently that Tazira had started putting pieces together. Another litter of cubs had followed not too terribly long after the first, and Taraxa was obviously the father of the cubs. Well, it wasn't obvious to anyone but Tazira. The same back stripes, the same browns -- though there was one little tyke that stuck out like a sore thumb. Tazira could only assume that the cub she'd enticed into following her took most after his mother, but the little outfits that Nymph had crafted for her kids didn't cover everything. There was another cub -- Tyr, if Tazira recalled correctly -- that looked so much like his papa that it was ridiculous.

Tazira was determined to open Taraxa's eyes. No cub should be raised in such a way. Tazira didn't rightly care who she pissed off by unveiling the truth.

"Come on, kiddo," she trilled over her shoulder at the little pink lad. "We're almost there."

Tazira glanced over her shoulder at the poor pink boy. She could only imagine how hot he must be in the ridiculous looking outfit, and Tazira sympathized with him. When he asked if she could remove his coat, Tazira only beamed before saying, "I will immediately help you get that silly thing off, boy. Don't give it a second thought. We'll get it off and shred it to bits, how's that sound?"

A million bits couldn't be enough. Tazira was starting to feel a little hostile towards the mother of her nephew. As if having Taraxa as a father wasn't embarrassing enough.

At the threshold to her brother's den, Tazira spotted the chubby lion splayed out in the dry dust, snoring heartily. Without further ado, Tazira marched over and kicked him square in his fat gut.

One would think that with Tazira as a sister, Taraxa would be used to waking up in all sorts of violent ways. Literally kicked from peaceful dreams, Taraxa shot upright immediately with a loud, wheezing exhale. His eyes nearly popped from his skull as he turned towards Tazira, a fierce scowl darkening his expression.

"Someday I will kill you," he rasped. It was obvious that he did not mean it as his pride's default greeting. No, from the expression on Taraxa's face, someday he really would kill his sister.

Tazira snorted loudly and kicked her brother in the rear haunch for good measure. She really wasn't expecting the little pink cub to leap on top of Taraxa, but the sight of the chubby little bloke soaring through the air and landing on Taraxa's chest made her chuckle.

The battle roar that squeaked out from the little lad made those chuckles erupt into laughs.

The well-aimed head-butt that caught Taraxa on the chin elevated those laughs into howls of laughter.

Taraxa blatantly ignored his sister, which was easy to do when there was a ball of feisty cub soaring towards his gut. The fur-covered tyke landed hard on Taraxa's chest, and he recognized the boy as one of Nymph's brats. The headbutt had Taraxa seeing stars, and with a dazed look he turned his attention to his sister, perhaps as if to say, 'Why me?'

Why, indeed.

Tazira smothered her laughs behind one of her paws, regaining her composure before she reached out to tug her oblivious nephew off of his oblivious father.

"Taraxa," she forced a scowl onto her face, "this is yours."

Taraxa looked utterly confused for a long moment. He needn't worry long. Tazira would make things utterly clear in a few moments time.

Tazira turned her attention from her brother to the pink cub. He looked utterly miserable and quite frankly Tazira was getting tired of looking at the hideous silver fur that covered up his pretty pelt.

"Of course we can take it off, kid. Are there ties, or ... how in the bloody... how does that thing stay on you?"

No matter. Tazira gripped the fur behind the neck of the boy with her teeth and caught her claws carefully next to where her teeth had found purchase. In one swift, powerful moment, she jerked her head and tore it apart.

Taraxa watched his sister's actions, staring at the cub when she'd finished ripping the piece of clothing straight down the back.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he groaned, finally putting the pieces together.

To dig in the point a little further, Tazira turned her attention to her pretty little nephew. "Ingmar, you look so much better without that stuffy ol' fur on." She beamed at the cub, proud of her relation to this handsome little chap even if he wasn't aware that they were all related.

"Now, Ingmar. Tell us, who is your da?" She lifted a paw and brushed the dirt from his fur in a motherly way, though her eyes remained locked on those of her brother. She couldn't wait to see his reaction.

Taraxa couldn't take his eyes off of his son. Pink like his bloody mother and yet those stripes marked him as Taraxa's son. Most, if not all, of his children bore the same marks. Ingmar was Taraxa's and there was no denying this, which also meant that all of Ingmar's littermates were his children, as well.

Taraxa was furious. How dare Nymphaea deny him his children? How dare she cover them up and parade them around, hiding the very features that would have spilled the truth to the pride?!

And how had he himself been so utterly stupid as to not realize that these were his children? What kind of father was he?

Taraxa's chest ached and he felt almost as if his heart would explode. His sons were learning how to fight from a male that was not himself, and it was also a male that his cubs were calling father. Taraxa was willing to bet that this Dodonna was some pretty little trophy male that Nymph was keeping her bed warm with, and Taraxa would also bet that he had been browbeaten into calling these cubs his own.

"I have to go talk to Nymph," he spat, a sour taste in his mouth. He was going to put the lioness in her place, and he was going to make her admit that the cubs were his whether she liked it or not.

"When I return, Ingmar, we will have some things to talk about." Taraxa lifted a broad paw and ruffled it against the pale-white mane of his son. before quietly stalking off.

Tazira watched her brother leave before turning her attention back to Ingmar. She wouldn't blame the cub if he was utterly confused, and she shook her head to herself. Her poor brother, she could only feel sorry for him. He was a simple lion, in truth, and required only simple things. He loved his children, all of them, and while he wasn't the most stunning Reaver in the pride, he was an amazing father.

"So, Ingmar," she said with a smile on her muzzle, "how do you think your brothers and sister would react if we found them all and ripped their coats off of them, put all the coats in a pile and then stomped them into the dirt?"