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"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Sansa?"

"Well, if I knew that I wouldn't be asking, Arya."

The pale lioness' shoulders hunched in unspoken irritation at her sister's pointless questions; she was tired, they both were grouchy, and being alone in each other's company for too long was decidedly working on their nerves. Arya needed to find a respite, but for now a watering hole seemed the perfect solution to soothe their dry mouths and brittle tempers. Inclining her head slightly, she peered over one thin shoulder at the darker female, "I'm scenting out a watering hole." She hesitated before adding in what she knew was a vain effort, "You could help."

Sansa, ever in line with her character, flared her nostrils in a disdainful sniff as she reached around to groom her upper foreleg with a long, pink tongue. The dust rarely bothered the lioness for long, but it had been some terrible amount of time since they had last had a good bath. Sansa was not the sort of lion to shy away from a good, clean dip in water; she was of the belief that cats should enjoy any element that helped them keep their coats in pristine condition. Arching what she considered a delicate brow, she ceased her grooming long enough to shoot her 'younger' sister a look that spoke volumes of her distaste for such menial labor, "I think you have it well enough in hand, sissy."

Arya hated that moniker. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged first one shoulder and then the other before leading the way through the tall grasses. Sure enough, she found the watering hole soon but pulled up short upon noticing the lion already present. He seemed strange – though she could not put a claw on whether it was his scent, the sight of him, or some other baser instinct she could not name. Her own brows lowered in suspicion, but her sister continued on by Arya's still form. "Move, Arya. You're such an underfoot sometimes, honestly."

The sisters had never met a deity – at least not so far as they were aware – and so Arya took these obvious indications of abnormality and instinctual detections of general "off-ness" as invitation for mediated suspicion. "The what?" And poor manners.

The latter reaction was highly embarrassing for her more proper and composed sister, who – after laying eyes upon the stranger – tossed aside any and all suspicion (instinctual or otherwise) in lieu of a handsome face and fine figure. She had no idea he was in any way "different" and had very little interest in if he was or was not just some random lion. He was a male lion, and that was enough for her. She straightened her shoulders and flicked her tail at her paler sister somewhat impatiently and all sorts of dismissively, "Arya, manners." Her voice was a stage whisper, but she raised it slightly to speak to the stranger, "Thank you for the kind reception."

Arya rolled her eyes and followed the other lioness as they continued towards the water. She was thirsty and it did look tempting; she supposed between the two of them they might escape if necessary. She could distract him while Sansa fled, and surely her smaller frame would be to her advantage. She shot him a careful, measuring look before reining in her stubborn distrustfulness albeit reluctantly, "I apologize. What is – or who are – the Tokakinji?"

Arya was of the mind that respect was earned and suspicion was granted, but she might have appreciated the patience had she known it necessary. Her primary concern was the preservation of her less concerned sister's self, and that meant observing newcomers from a slightly different perspective. Sansa had a short memory, it seemed, and allowed individuals too close on polite behavior alone. This lion, at least, had made no move to confirm her fears, so she relaxed her shoulders and looked towards the distant mountain with renewed interest, "A pride?"

The inquiry was more of a rhetorical utterance as she contemplated the mountain before turning her alert – and now inquisitive – eyes back to the stranger who had since introduced himself. Her inherent curiosity was getting the better of her. Her returning curtsey was more of a bow and rather hasty as she replied, "What's it like? Your pride?"

While Sansa may have had reason to be pleased by her sister's slow change of heart, she was reluctant to give up the conversation. She feigned a patient smile at her sister's questions as she dipped her head to the male, "My little sister –" this got an easily overlooked eyeroll from the 'younger' sibling, " – is Arya, and I'm Sansa. It's a pleasure to meet you, Talfrid."

She watched him carefully, narrowing her yellow eyes not out of suspicion now but consideration. A pride would be a support system; something to entertain and protect her sister from harm. Arya worked her mouth as she thought it over, pursing her lips and grinding her teeth briefly before looking from their new acquaintance to her sister. "It sounds wonderful."

Frowning slightly, she took another careful moment to think before pressing a genuine smile, "It is nice to meet you. And thank you, for the information."

Though Arya might have agreed to a hunt, Sansa was not about to get her paws dirty in mixed company so the pale lioness dropped her head to drink from the water while her sister took up the conversation willingly. "Oh, there is a market?" Her excitement was evident, and a bit infectious, as Sansa widened her blue eyes, "That would be wonderful to visit. I don't think I've ever tried dried meat." The dark lioness dropped her hind quarters to the ground, wrapping her tail daintily around her paws.

Slowly, but surely, Arya was finding herself relaxing around this new acquaintance and warming to the idea of a pride where her personal responsibilities towards her sister might be alleviated to at least some degree. There would be others to protect Sansa, and others for Arya to perhaps converse with. Friends outside of her close but overwhelming sister would be a welcome change of pace, plus her feet were so very weary of traveling.

"The pride is open to new membership?" Her question was tentative, and her expression hinted at some glimmer of surprise at herself for even asking, but the stubborn resolution to stand by her inquiry soon followed. It made sense: why would they not be interested in joining a pride? She was unaware of the current strife between factions, but that seemed a small price to pay.

Sansa was less concerned about important matters such as pride membership and more interested in this market that was being described to her. Dried meat seemed like an unimaginable delicacy that she was eager to try, and her imagination was beginning to form some idea what other crafts might be available until she realized something that was perhaps more important by at least a smidge, "Oh, but we haven't anything to trade." Her expression fell as she glanced back at her gleaming coat – empty of adornment besides her spotted markings – and then she rallied, pressing a smile, "Though it would not hurt to look, at least."

"To the king," Arya repeated and trailed off, considering her options and oblivious to the eyes of the god dwelling on her while her sister spoke. She was focused on something far more important than a marketplace outing. At the very least, this sort of decision would affect her and her sister's lives for an indeterminate length of time. This was no daily task but a life altering decision.

Blinking her own bright eyes, she looked between the two of them before nodding carefully, "I think we might need to take you up on that offer, Talfrid, if you do not mind." She managed to resume some of her manners for that much at the least, allowing her lips to curl in a soft and hopefully encouraging, if timorous smile.

Sansa's enthusiasm at the possibility of meeting a king however, was palpable and barely suppressed. She let her blue eyes dart between her sister and the stranger, etiquette keeping her excitement from boiling over completely. "I'm sure I could find some pebbles. I have a good eye for pretty things." Her words bubbled with mirth as she moved to follow the large male, brushing shoulders with her sister in gentle encouragement that the paler lioness would fall in line with her. That they were starting a new path together was far from her mind: she was going to a market, and meeting a king to boot.