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 Posted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 6:00 pm
 Mpaji skittered across the edge of the Firekin lands, getting as far away from everyone as he possibly could. There were too many things going on for his mind to handle. He now served under the one called Uzulu, when in his youth he'd sworn only to work for Moto. Yet something had inspired a change in him, as the world changed around him.
For Motimilia was now busy with many cubs, two to be exact, and regardless of whether she loved the one Firekin brute or not, Mpaji could not stand him. It and brought a large rift, not in his childish love towards the lion he called mother, but in a sense of understanding. There was a deep strain there, where there once was only a love for him. Was this, he thought, a small bit of jealously that he wasn't the center of her caring any longer? With two cubs, how on earth could he be? Even if he strove to take care of them.
His ventures had made him trot, for he was far to heavily built for a run. Golden fur flashing with the white rays of the sand, he would seem a part of its vastness itself. Perhaps a half brood, for his great stature, Mpaji himself did not know. He did realize, however, that he held no colors to set him apart from the others. Forever a slave in the minds of the proud.
And what of the others that he looked up to? What happened to Tamu, the one he had met so long ago in the sands? He couldn't say he had too much of a heart for this one, but it reminded him of someone. Kwana. He wondered, as he often did, what had caused her exile, he never had gotten a straight answer. He had heard Kimeti, Moto, and Kwana. Only the lattermost was fit to rule. Only she had the tongue of a true Firekin.
This bitterness had come forwards, in the talk with No. The Prince, be he a son or not, was still of relation to Kimeti, and therefore he held a dark notion towards this one. The black slave had talked of strange things, as if she knew a future he wasn't sure he wanted to have. The Blood would no longer be themselves, the land scoured by the 'grand' ideas of others.
He stopped now, the heat in his mind raging, with images flashing before his eyes. They told him of his past, and nothing more. But everyone always said that the past can often prove more important than your future.
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Posted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 8:25 pm
 She had grown to enjoy wandering, in her own way. It was a lonely life, the life of a wanderer. One of days after days of solitude, stretches of sand or grass or trees on as far as the eye could see. The world appeared endless, but the ends appeared after days of walking. Always walking. Always walking.
A wanderer couldn't stop to rest, no. There was no where safe. The land was always claimed, always owned, and if one lingered to long, someone would come to take it back. It wasn't always a large someone, of course, but something always was there before. A few hours rest, and she would be pushed forward once more by a fellow lion, or a cheetah, or antelope, or hawk, or snake, or ant. Size didn't matter. Everything had a place, she had learned, and that place was to be respected, even if her own position was heads above the silly creatures around her--or wasn't, because she was a wanderer, and, thus, placeless.
She must have wandered around the world by now, she decided as her feet fell on golden sand. She had gone everywhere she possibly could, and so her paws had led her back to the only place she had left to go. Sand dunes stretched on as far as the eye could see, ever shifting, ever changing with the winds, and yet they were as familiar as the day she had left. The desert had and hadn't changed. She wasn't returning, she reasoned, she was exploring an unexplored area.
If she happened to run into her brothers along the way, well, so be it.
The lioness cracked a grin at the very thought, padding lazily along over the sand in the general direction of where she remembered the pride to reside. The cheetah and klipspringer that usually accompanied her had been warned off some days back, and, knowing the pair, were probably prancing about the outskirts of the Pridelands by this time. She would find them again eventually. They always found each other again. But for now, the sands called. She was home.
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 6:53 pm
It didn't take Mpaji to spot the creature that ventured into the Firekin lands. Had it been any other lion, and any other time and place, he would have pondered who it was, and why he recognized them. But there was no forgetting that face.
Kwana.
Immediately Upendo'Mpaji's mind went into hyperdrive. Should he come up and impress her with language and technique? Show her the true nature of a slave? Or tackle her like he once did Moto. None of those seemed quite right. There was just no way to approach a true Queen.
He bit his lower lip, spinning his ears in frustration. What on earth do to? Finally he decided a few words would do, a normal approach. There were no other lions to scold him for his actions, talking to a Firekin as though they were equals.
He moved forwards, carefully, slowly, his eyes set on the task ahead. Who knew it took so much to say hello? Well she was royalty.
"Kwana," he said, after he felt himself close enough. "Come at last to reclaim the throne?" One couldn't be sure if it was question or statement, even Upen.
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 7:54 pm
Unfortunately for the male, their initial meeting hadn't had quite the same impact on the lioness as it had on him. Between her time traveling and many new faces met, she had all but forgotten Mpaji. He was only a face from a time long past, and one the lioness had never expected to see again.
Thus it was with some surprise that she addressed his approach, raising a brow in a curious manner and inwardly cursing herself for letting his presence go unnoticed. The sand was spellbinding, she was being careless. But this male didn't seem threatening, nor, for that matter, did he appear Firekin. And yet, he knew her name, and his greeting was kind--but bold! He knew of her position, and, judging by question, he approved.
Kwana slowed her pace to pause a few steps from the male, but glanced ahead across the dunes with a half smile. "Perhaps. I shall witness the state of my pride before I decide if they are deserving of me." Chuckling softly, she turned her eyes back to the male, eyeing him thoughtfully. So familiar, so familiar, but so long ago... And then the name struck, and she smiled, nodding her head in greeting. "Mpaji. Forgive me, it has been a long time. You've grown."
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 8:21 pm
Mpaji hadn't expected such a formal greeting from her. Perhaps a, 'I've come home, and have no time to bother with a slave. Either follow and serve, or scurry away to your master, pet.' It lightened his heart some, to know that she recognized him, and he could not decipher the pause between. He could only assume that she knew him upon first sight, and that the sands had been the change in her nature.
Of course, as most lions, Upendo'Mpaji did not know the thoughts in another's head, so he could never truly grasp what was Kwana. It was intriguing, to hear her talk in such tones. It was definately the same member of The Blood he once met. The eyes flashing with danger, mind calculating the most demeaning response possible without hurting her own image. You wanted to believe that none were deserving, and the spell surely worked on Mpaji.
He could think of little to say, so he focused on the things one might tell a queen, as their spy. Surely she would wish to know these things?
"Aye, Lady, the sands have grown with me," he told her formally, taking up more of the nature of servant that he'd acted so well all these years. "Your sister, Motomilia, has two cubs now," the tone quickly changed from respect. "With that b*****d coward, Keeni." Oh how he hated that lion. Had he the will to strike, retaliate, or even encourage violence, he would have done away with the other. But never had he let a growl escape his throat in menace through all his years. His size would beg to differ. "And Kimeti, I cannot recall how many youth he has sprouted, but one is due to take the thrown. Kindono he is called."
He paused for a moment to furrow his brows in thought, turning to face the Firekin lands and begin walking, as though leading her in. "I serve under the companion of one of his daughters. Uzulu, his name is, the female, Kwana, not what you should expect of The Blood. She talks." His voiced trailed off, as though Kwana sparked some memory in his mind. "And there has been this talk, of Kindono, amongst the slaves. A rebellion, I should only assume, and it seems they have the late princes help. There may not be The Blood to return to in a short while."
Mpaji wanted to bite his tongue. It sounded so dark, so mischevious. He wanted to bounce, play, run, knock around the others. But the Firekin land had changed him. Though the childness ran through his bones through and through, he had to condemn it to a prison. One day, it would come forth again, no matter, and it the mean time, he would speak his boldness through his tongue, in more verbose language than he had remembered upon his last meeting with Kwana.
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Posted: Fri Mar 02, 2007 7:46 pm
The lioness had developed a great deal of tolerance during her travels, but her actual opinions as to the status of others compared to her own ha not changed. She had met and spoken with many other lions, she had befriended a cheetah, and she had traveled with a klipspringer, which would have quickly become a meal to a much younger her. Kwana had learned the value of life, the value an ally, and the value of a friend. She was Firekin royalty, and only the gods stood above her, but that didn't mean she had to make enemies of those beneath her. As long as they knew their place in the end, Kwana was content and, now, treated them perfectly well.
But even with her newfound, occasional kindness, the lioness had not changed. She still knew how to twist a word, knew how to manipulate a situation to best suit her. She knew how to win over a beast to respect and admire her, a spell she had woven on Mpaji time ago and still held true today. If she could reestablish herself in the pride and avoid her brother's wrath, well--the Firekin had nearly been hers before, and it would be once more before long.
Whether intentionally or not, Kwana had a spy in this slave, and his information, even such trivial things as Motomilia cubs, were welcome to her. Holding her proud air, the lioness sunk to sit on her haunches, chin held high and icy eyes fixed on the male as he related the information. "My congratulations to my sister, though I do not know of this Keeni. Clearly you harbor some ill will towards him?" she questioned innocently, lifting a brow. "Kimeti's number of offspring does not surprise me. Learning they are all of the same mate, now, that would be startling."
She chuckled softly at the very thought, expression easing just a touch, though her attention returned immediately at the mention of a potential rebellion. "Kindono would lead the slaves against his father? Another traitor in his midst, how like Kimeti to go on oblivious... I should speak with this Kindono. Perhaps we can be of use to each other before I retake my throne."
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 12:31 pm
"Keeni is not worthy of the title Firekin," Mpaji answered dryly, his tail flicking in annoyance. He did not want to think of the lion now, not when such good news had come to pass.
He knew that most of the Firekin referred to themselves as 'The Blood', but it seemed bad enough to call him Firekin, and so he ventured far from using blood and Keeni in the same sentence. Then again, he wasn't exactly fit to be under the title 'slave' either. He stretched bounds wherever there was one to torque.
"I do not know who dammed them," he spoke calmly, careful with his words now. He'd need to leave a few things for himself around this Kwana.
"I don't believe Kindono thinks himself a traitor. From what I gathered from the talk of Uzulu and the black slave, No, it is more of a thinning of lines of The Blood, to produce offspring that won't be of retardation. It seems that too many of The Blood are of royal lines, and Kindono seeks to help that cause. There are those, however, who are deeply against it, though it seems their lines are few. The Blood have gone through a softening, Lady Kwana."
He watched her sit, her ears flicking. He wanted to move, and she was dallying, but there must have been some reason for her patience, so he waited, watching her curiously.
"I don't think they'll take to your coming very well," he told her, even though it was rather obvious. "You'll need a few safe ears to rely on, people that won't talk." It was useless trying to tell her such things, he knew, but it wasn't so much advice, as it was a hint that he might just have those few things she needed. It remained to be seen whether she was merely using him, or actually thought something of him as a slave.
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