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 Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 10:11 am
 The sun beat down on his dark coat, sweat trickling through the dense strands of fur in a slow, ticklish slide of which its sole function seemed to be as an annoyance, grating on his already sour temper made short and volatile by the unending heat. Another tickle threaded its way through his fur under his mane, doing nothing to cool his overheated body but working wonders on stocking his temper almost as hot as the sun that tormented him. Finally with an outraged roar of helpless fury he threw his large body down into the sand and scrubbed his damp fur brutally. The sharp bite of the tiny grains scouring through his fur gave instant relief to the itching and after a moment he sagged where he lay, eyes closed and legs stuck stiffly out across the sand like dead sticks. The heat continued, but for a blessed moment, there was no rabid nest of ants crawling over his body.
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 10:33 am
The lioness was picking her way slowly through the lands of her new home, pausing now and then to shake out her coat. The sun was relentless in its heat, with not a cloud in the sky to give shade or lighten its intensity. She was sweating, panting to expel the heat, and the severe drought of the land wasn't helping. Despite the misery of the afternoon, the lioness gave no complaint, and somehow retained her endless amounts of good humor. This was her choice, after all. She had lived in the harsh environment long enough to know the consequences of summer. . . . .
But just because Fiametta accepted the heat, didn't mean she didn't like it, or enjoy it. It really was miserable, and the sweat that caused her coat to clump and stain with moisture, as well as itch, was really quite unfortunate. The one saving grace, of course, was the fact that though her coat was dark, it wasn't black. The firekin she had passed that sported much darker coats than her own had to be terribly miserable.
It was then that a sudden roar tickled her ears. It was surprisingly close, just over the sand dune a head of her. Whoever it was did not sound happy, though she couldn't tell if it was a roar from anguish, pain, or just plain frustration! Ears pricked forward, the lioness picked up her pace and scurried up the small sand dune. She didn't expect to find someone in trouble, but . . . you never knew.
Cresting the top of the hill, the red and orange female paused. There, at the base, was a dark coated lion covered in dirt, with his legs stuck out stiffly, almost as if he had keeled over in his place. "Hello!" She called out, trotting down the side of the dune, kicking up some dust and sand as she ran. She noticed that his chest still moved, so he wasn't dead but . . . .
Was he wounded? Or just . . . .taking a moment to relive some of the heat? As she bridged the distance, she realized she recognized the large male. It had been the one to duel her, the one she had beat. Well. . . maybe not really beat, since they had come to a draw, but it was close enough! If he hadn't been so damn huge she was certain the victory would have been her own. "Are you quite all right?" She questioned, her concern not entirely dispelled.
Maybe he had upset a scorpion . . . .there were still some nasty critters that hid amongst the sand that could leave quite a painful sting or bite.
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 11:53 am
The sudden sound of a voice close by shocked him from his mindless relief. His body, as hot as it was, went cold at the realisation that his one moment of embarrassing display had just been witnessed by someone. Jerking he surged upwards, dust and sand swirling around him in a thick cloud as he scrambled to his feet. Hackles stiff along his spine in mortification. Embarrassment showed itself as anger when he spun, ready to attack the stranger in order to ensure his moment of weakness never passed the other's maw. But squinting through the dust he realised it was female and his rage turned inwards, lashing at his already risen temper. He would not hurt a female unless she attacked him or had otherwise done something to earn such, but that didn't mean he had to be polite and when the sand blew away a moment later, sunset eyes were narrowed, expression dark and stormy. Yet for all that he was truly fearsome, he was also entirely disheveled. His pitch fur coated in sand, the pale grains stuck in his mane and over his face like some kind of stray, making him more comical than intimidating.
"Im fine." He growled, his voice low and prickly even as he glanced to the side, expression turning thunderous at the state of himself. Bracing his paws he shook roughly, sending another cloud of sand up about him, and to top it all off, he suddenly sneezed explosively as the fine dust went up his nose. Embarrassment filled him, mortified that he had let anyone see him making such a childish display.
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 12:43 pm
It was clear to Fiametta that she had startled the large lion. In an instant the large figure whirled to his feet. It was almost amazing to see such a large and heavy creature move so swiftly, but his looks could be deceiving; she had learned the hard way just how difficult he was to battle, because he could move quickly on his paws. This instant proved it again, even as the sand whirled around his form.
Unfortunately for Thanda'lau, if he thought that his appearance would actually scare her away, he was sadly mistaken. She could see the displeasure in his gaze, his body language screamed for her to leave him . . . but she dismissed it as quickly as she realized it. The humor in her eyes only brightened, and the smallest of smiles crossed her features. He really did look as if he needed a good grooming in this instant; patchy fur tangled in sweat and sand, and sticks of desert grass sticking every which way out of his fur. "Well that's a relief!" She stated, a chuckle in her voice.
His sneeze left her unperturbed, and she gave him the respect due by not letting a laugh escape her. He might think she was laughing at him which . . .well. . . .maybe she was a little, but it was only because Mr. Gruff looked like he needed a good grooming. The poor fellow. . . . Funny how a couple misplaced blades of grass in ones mane could really destroy ones tough appearance.
Brushing off his growl, she gave the large male a smile and good humored wink. "If the heat and dust aren't enough to drive one crazy, the scorpions and tarantulas are." She added amicably, giving her own coat a little shake to remove it of some of its dust. Giving the lion a cheeky smile, she added, "Oops, missed a spot you did! There's still just a little something sticking haphazardly behind your ears." She doubted he'd take her pointing out of the clump of desert weed very happily, but . . . best point it out before he trudged half-way through the pride and acquired some nickname like "Tufts" . . .
Though, that would be rather adorable on the grumpy male.
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Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 10:29 am
Had he known just how bad he looked, he might have tried to hide in the sand itself, not because he was vein, for the lion cared little about being handsome or 'cute' or whatever it was females twittered over in other males, the only reason he cared about his apperance was that being covered in sand and bits of leaf was unprofessional and childish. For such a straight-laced male his world had to be rigorously ordered, there were rules and regulations to be observed even if they were often his own. One's appearance was important in so far as it influenced how others saw you, and to Thanda'Lau a scruffy, messy lion was not going to be considered a competent lion in any aspect of life certainly he would be not be respected in a pride or have respect for himself.
So being caught in a rather compromising situation was certainly not ideal for the austere lion. Discomfort flickered over his features though it was swiftly covered over with a stern expression. Tail flicking against his rump in agitation. Yet she was being polite and seemingly innocent of his huge blunder, though that half-smile he thought he saw made him unsure weather she was genuinely concerned for him, or found him amusing.. Unwilling to compound his previous absurd behavior by being rude he forced himself to get a hold of his temper and reply in a moderately calm tone. "Most of them are harmless, you just..." Trailing off he snapped his jaw shut, realising she hadn't actually been talking about the oft deadly insects that one sometimes stumbled over in the heat, but had been making a passing comment. He really didn't like small talk, he had no idea how to do it...
Feeling his ears pin themselves in his thick mane, which only made him feel instantly hotter and therefor instantly more bad-tempered, he swallowed a groan and was about to attempt some kind of reply-and-escape technique when she pointed out his disheveled state. Embarrassment shivered down his body again as he felt his face flush. For a moment he considered leaving whatever it was she had mentioned, but the idea of going back to the pride with it in situ was more than he could bear, so swallowing his pride and not looking at her, he bent his head and tried to rub the back of his ear against his foreleg in an attempt to remove the offending clump of grass.
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Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 5:42 pm
This stranger, this large, striking male lion was absolutely, positively, adorable. Fiametta was no spring chicken, and she had grown accustomed to reading the body language of others. In a pride as large and as, well, proud, as the Firekin, she had been granted excessive practice in the endeavor. They weren't a naturally open group, and many were no easy to read; but she could tell with the deepening of his frown, with the flattening of his years, that this monstrously large male was uncomfortable.
Why?
Fiametta wasn't going to to be blunt and ask him what his problem was, because for all she knew, he did have a problem. But that didn't stop the unease in which he acted. She herself wasn't an intimidating female, and was actually one of the smaller lionesses within the pride. It was quite clear she wasn't born in these lands, and she had already battled him once before. . . . So why the unspoken tension?
Maybe he didn't like to talk? That was a possibility. . . .
Was he over heated? Was it the sun scorching in to his fur that made him uneasy?
Honestly, the lioness hadn't a clue, but . . . .just because she recognized his displeasure didn't mean she was going to act upon it. She would force him to relax, and maybe even draw out a smile upon his grumpy features. Maybe. For as tall as the Firekin walked, for as strong, powerful, and feisty they could be . . . .there was still joy in these lands. Somewhere. The drought, the strangers, the opening of the pride lands. . . There was much to frown about, but Fiametta preferred focusing on reasons to smile.
"You just what?" She asked, encouraging the male to continue. She genuinely wanted to know what he had to say about the nasty critters. "I've lived in the desert awhile, but I'd sure like to know if you have any ways to avoid having your toes bitten." She added playfully, giving her paw a little shake. She'd been stung before as a young female, and the memory was not something she wished to repeat. There were some nasty creatures that lurked in the desert, after all.
As the large male ducked his head and attempted to get the rogue twig out from behind his ear, she had to stifle a giggle. To see a grown lion, especially as stoic a creature as this male act in such a manner, well . . . .it really was quite a sight. It would have been easier to have snatched it out herself, but she doubted he'd appreciate such a close proximity. He seemed like the sort who liked personal space. . . .
Still . . . if he didn't manage to dislodge the branch, she'd happily offer to help. "I'm Fiametta, by the way. I don't think we've properly been introduced." She added with a little chuckle, recalling very easily their duel. They had tied, but it hadn't been easy. . . . he was rather big, even for a Firekin.
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