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 Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 5:56 pm
 With all the fuss and fear, the pride was a less than comfortable place right now. Not to mention that she was still dealing with cementing her rank as Master Warrior in the minds of those who were...well, still less than pleased about her arrival and gradual usurpation of that position. It wasn't her fault that she had far more experience than any other of the Kitwana'antara's warriors, and she damned well wasn't going to let it go to waste! They could just learn to live with it. Between that, and the revelation that Nyesha, the youngest of the three kids she and Tarafa were raising, the pink lioness needed some time to herself. Hence she was ranging through some of the less well patrolled areas, between the actual border and where the first dens lay. She was running off her frustration, ignoring the potentiality that the disease would strike her down as it had the poor adolescent. A pile of something not too far off caught her eye, and Mittere veered towards it. Big and black and white, she couldn't tell much more from a distance. The lioness let her speed drop off and increased the amount of effort she was putting into stealth. The colors could be Firekin, she'd learned...but they could just as easily be some random rogue, an enemy Nergui...or just a pridemember. No sense taking risks though.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 6:27 pm
Nemanja hadn't picked a particular destination in mind, though it appeared his subconscious had played the smallest roll in wherever it was he found himself, as he was terribly close to where Veri had visited. Granted, he didn't realize such a thing, and was unlikely ever going to. Instead, he had walked half a day, disregarding just about everyone and everything (pridal borders included) before he dropped.
It wasn't that he was hungry or thirsty, he merely decided it was time to stop walking. And so, he rested. And he rested. And he rested. Veri's snake had decided to take it upon itself to leave the grungy, matted fur that had homed him in the winter lands of the Gods Haven, to possibly find something small to hunt and to enjoy the sunshien while it could. As for Nemanja, he noticed only because it was Veri's snake, and thus he couldn't leave until it returned to his mane.
Thankfully, the lump of fur and feathers wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 6:32 pm
As she drew closer, some elements of the thing became clear. Black and white she'd seen before, but now she could make fur and...feathers? Yes, feathers. Belonging to some very large wings. The lioness wasn't certain that anything but an eagle would have a span that large and so she tried to discern the rest of the body.
But...there was no eagle. All she could see was a lion. With wings. Collapsed as if unconscious or sleeping.
Mittere had heard once that gods roamed this earth. That they had wings that allowed them to fly over the mortals below. She hadn't believed the legend then.
She believed it now.
But what was a god doing here?
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 6:53 pm
The lion had his eyes open, but his disheveled mane had fallen in to his features, and thus made it difficult to discern. Still, his ears picked up the softest of sounds on the grasses moving closer to him; whoever it was walking approaching with great stealth and caution, and had he been mortal he likely might not have heard Mittere's approach.
For a few more moments, he did nothing, but continued to lie in a heap of feathers and fur. It was very possible whoever was approaching might be a scavenger, and might very well wish to investigate whether or not he was prey. While there was a good chance he might have let himself become nibbled on -- only a little bit -- at this point he remembered his duty to Veri -- he needed to keep an eye on the stranger so they might not go after the snake that was lurking somewhere in the vicinity.
So it was that he finally shifted himself, his spiked tail giving a small thump in the grass as he slowly lifted his head and looked over at who it was that approached him. It was a lioness, a battle scarred female made up entirely of a pink coat. Hnnn.
He said nothing though, only gazed upon her. His wings readjusted, and ever so slowly, he pushed himself up so he was more or less sitting. Though . . .at the angle there was a good shot he might flop over at any given moment. ". . . greetings." He spoke, his voice deep and rough from lack of use. But Nemanja was a gentleman, deep down, and he knew it was better to say something than stare.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 6:58 pm
As she watched, the heap of fur and feathers shifted in such a way that it stopped being a pile of limbs and resolved itself into a god. And the god was looking at her. His voice rasped, as if it hadn't been used in years and the only thing focused about him was his gaze.
Mittere shivered slightly as he set his sights on her. She'd never wanted to be the focus of any creature so much more powerful than her. Ever. And she was smart enough to know that such beings existed, though she'd not believed in gods until this day.
Why greet her? Why be polite at all? Well, actually, she could think of several reasons, and ingrained manners topped the list. The better question was, how should she respond?
The pink lioness decided to keep quiet as she came closer for a better look.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:05 pm
Now that he was less a pile of black and white feathers and fur, he certainly appeared to be a large lion; his fur was thick and terribly shaggy, but matted and covered in all sorts of odds and ends. Large horns hutted from his forhead and peeked out of his fur, just as his large wings were greasy and missing feathers. He was in, a seemingly constant state of molt, and generally was unkempt in his appearance; the thick fur surrounding his limbs was tangled with an odd assortment of twigs and grasses, and about the only clean thing on his body might have been his spiked tail.
Still, it seemed that everything was a bit of an effort for the large lion. He kept his pupilless gaze fixed upon Mittere, and when she said nothing, he figured he had no other reason to speak. So he sat there, watching her without truly caring, and let her investigate however she felt. His entire visage was purely apathetic in nature, and it was quickly becoming apparent he meant no harm. Still as a statue, he sat and waited. He didn't mind the quiet, after all.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:11 pm
Okay. He was sitting there. Watching her. And doing absolutely nothing else. This was ascertained by her pacing forward slowly, eyes never leaving him. And yes, given the size and the little she could see of the lion body beneath the fur and feathers, she was reasonably certain of his gender.
Not to mention that males seemed so much more likely to let their appearance get this bad.
A few lengths away she stopped.
"You're in Kitwana'antara lands," Mittere told the god flatly.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:20 pm
Why should he groom himself?
It didn't matter. If others didn't care for his appearance, then they needn't sit with him. If others wished him to be clean, then they could do so themselves. Honestly, the lion just didn't care enough about himself to really consider his appearance. He could be a plush and elegant looking god if he only stopped t ogroom and work out the mats in his fur.
As it was, it didn't matter. If he looked half-dead or was as gorgeous as any could be, what purpose would it serve? Those who wished to meet him would, and could, regardless of the shell he inhabited. Let them crinkle their noses, let them think poorly or strangely about him, it . . . just didn't matter. But very little in this world did. The few exceptions were few and far between, and even because they might matter, didn't mean they could get him to change who he was. . . or what he looked like.
"Mmm." He gave a slight grunt of acknowledgement as the pink lioness spoke. The name seemed familiar, though he couldn't entirely place it. It didn't matter though, did it? One pride was just like any other. . . .and those that thought themselves unique were quite mistaken. It was only the colors and situations that changed.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:24 pm
...she supposed she should be glad he'd at least acknowledged her words. But he was still here. Did he not know about the disease?
Could a god get sick? She had absolutely no idea. But, as a member of the pride, she did have to warn any stranger who came near - or as the god had, entered - the lands of the Kitwana.
If he got sick and died, it was hardly her fault now, was it.
"There's a disease here," she forced herself to speak. Odd that she had to use such will to do so. "It's very contagious, spread by blood and saliva. You should..." sleep, molt, gather dust, rot, "...not stay here long."
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:37 pm
Disease.
There was a Goddess of Disease, one he had never officially met, but knew of. There were many gods he knew of but very few he actually interacted with on a regular basis. Blood had been a cub hood friend. . . . as had Sandstorms. A few other faces danced through his memory, but their domains were either forgotten or unimportant.
So these lands were plagued. It didn't bother him, not because he knew he was immune (he did not), but because it didn't matter. What was illness but a different path of the body? What was disease but an alternative path, a premature shutting down or strain of systems within the body?
Again, it didn't matter.
Their suffering, their pain, their plague, their contagion and fear. Still, he supposed this was one of those times that he should actually respond to the female that had warned him. Giving another slow nod, he curled his spiked tail around him and once more allowed words to touch his lips. ". . .It is good of you to warn. But I will wait here for the time being. . . thank you." He added it as a belated after thought, his words still quiet and devoid of most emotion. He spoke as if numb, which wasn't entirely inaccurate.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 7:44 pm
Well, she supposed politeness and the fact that he was acknowledging her existence should count for something. Not much though. What Mittere knew about gods were bits of myth and legend, and not everything she'd heard matched up with the creature before her. She certainly couldn't imagine anyone anywhere worshipping this god the way the pride worshipped the goddess of Pestilence.
The pink lioness had less trouble than usual biting back a snappy remark about him not being welcome, but she still wasn't pleased.
With a tail gesture that anyone else would have accompanied with a "harrumph", she turned and left. Hopefully the next time she came this way, he'd be gone.
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