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He had had very little intention of marrying since the death of his first; she had been of convenience, and the resulting litter had been overtly… underwhelming. Dottì'stryk had been a possibility for greatness, had she not been born a she. Her desires to be a Reaver were disappointingly stubborn in the face of their new warlord, and Rå had very little interest in assisting her efforts.

No, his new concern lay with his most recent domestic endeavor. He had been shackled with a wife; a pretty thing, younger than his daughter and younger even still than him. She was a bauble, for the time being, but her parents had seemed keen in securing her a marriage. What better than a Captain, so long as the warlord was taken? Rå had been amenable to the agreement only so far as he had tired of dealing directly with his thralls. It was a woman's work and he despised it so much so he had thought to leave it to his most recent acquisition, but putting such responsibilities in the paws of a thrall would be a poor consideration.

So no, a wife would do.

His steps carried him now to the front of his den where he expected she would be waiting; his new pretty little freeborn wife.

Rå cared very little for a secret friendship; what his new wife did in his absence while he raided was her own prerogative so long as his home and thralls were in order upon his return. She would come to understand this in time, but he had little concern for liasons with a bird and secret messages passed between her and another female. Males? Perhaps, but he would take up such an issue with the offender by tooth and claw before reasserting his dominance in the home. There was only so much fault to lie with the female in such matters, after all.

He also could care even less for what she thought of his lifestyle. So long as she kept thralls in line and did not go about freeing them willy-nilly behind his back, he considered her personality flaws her own. As things went, he was not looking forward to discussing things with this new wife. He had expected her to know everything, but she was young and that alone was enough to warn him. So far as he was aware, he was her first husband and no track record or experience left his assurances wanting. So much for an easy transition.

When his gold eyes found her sitting in his den, his brows lowered and he grunted to himself: unsure whether he was pleased or disappointed by her presence. It meant speaking; it meant awkward introductions and the thought exhausted him. He sighed then, a heavy heave that lifted and shook his mane before he sat a few feet from her; his gaze trailed over her, taking her in with an expression that betrayed nothing. Gods, he hated unnecessary talking.

Rå would be anxious if he were made aware that his new wife had had visions of him. Ohahira – no, Tyst, he had named her – also had visions of him, so she said, and that had unnerved him enough that another vision would give him pause. Canicah had nothing to fear from him physically, at least not so far as a beating were concerned, but he would level anyone she claimed did not show her that same courtesy.

All the same, she was going to have to grow a backbone to control thralls. He would not bring back spineless jellies often, she had to learn to use tooth and claw at least to dominate them. She did meet his eyes, and that was enough to reassure him she was not completely passive.

His own golden gaze flipped away for a moment to look over his den before returning his attention to her in order to gruffly growl, "Wife." It was not meant to sound cruel or abrupt, but he did so despise words. "How do you like your new home?" His words were thunder, rolling around his cavernous ribcage before erupting from plush lips loath to form the letters. He supposed conversation would not be so bad. She was obvious not his Tyst, she needed instruction and reassurance. She was still young enough to be allowed that much.

He was surprised at the small twinge of relief that accompanied her response. Since when did he care what others thought of his living quarters? He didn't – at least not consciously – so he was not about to start now just because some chit had been bounded to he and his. She was simply a new addition, and though she was no thrall, she was not about to start governing his livelihood or invoking feelings either.

His face reflected that determination for a moment; his lips turned down in a deep frown and his brows furrowing in consternation. Stupid females and their stupid wiles. Black magic – you did not even know when it was being worked.

Shifting his weight from one paw to the other slightly, he observed her for a moment through sparking eyes. Yes, he had thralls, though he supposed she need only deal with Tyst. Tyst had any others associated with him well enough in hand that he rarely had to bother as is, and he had never cared enough to keep his thralls close to home. They were generally communal but Tyst… Tyst had been special, sent to him by a seer. If any he had ever brought home had held promise for bettering their station, Tyst would be first of them.

He lifted his gaze to stare at a corner of the den as he spoke, "It is simple; easy to care for." He did not mean to sound humble by any means, so he frowned and added, "No flowers. Ever." That made it sound more instructive at least.

Feelings were the bane of Rå's existence. Typically they marred more strategic, logical decisions that were otherwise committed in err when marred by emotion. He would be glad not to be directly confronted about such weakness if or when they reared their ugly little heads, and if his new wife thought she might nurture that side of him purposefully, she was in for a rude awakening.

Unless, of course, these feelings bloomed naturally and without any effort on either of their parts – then, well, how could he blame her for them? Not that he would address them either; oh, no, he would squash them and continue on in his life. The life of a reaver held no room for tears, fears and laughter. He had a job to do until his bones or his blood said otherwise. He made a gruff noise in the back of his throat, agreeing with her assessment that there would be no problem but also expressing his pleasure at her apparent abilities to handle the situation. Belatedly, he corrected, "Our den."

But it was his; why did he care if she saw it as her own? He supposed it made more sense for her to care for something that was hers as well, but he preferred her to think of the place as his first. It had been his first.

He never was good with change, least of all where women were concerned.

No flowers – that was good, but pelts were better. He nodded again, brisk enough to disturb his thick mane before swinging his gold eyes back to her. She was younger than his daughter, and that made it a little difficult to think of her as much more than a cub. Wonderful – what had he been shackled into? He observed her quietly for a moment before speaking, "Tyst, my thrall, will be able to get whatever you need." He would lie with her, if only because he could not see putting her elsewhere.

Rå was growing increasingly impatient with this scenario. He was not a lion well accustomed to awkward conversations that could not be finished by a push, shove, or swipe of claw. The tension had no clear end, and his hair was beginning to stand as his tail lashed his dark flanks. She was pleasant enough, but he was unused to pleasant. His ears flicked self-consciously before pinning against his skull, gaze darting towards the entrance to the den as if seeking a way out.

"Whatever you need." He repeated, swinging his eyes towards her again as a brow lifted. Was there an echo? Did he need to explain thralls to her? How was she supposed to take care of his den and meet his needs? He halted his thoughts, careful not to let any of his impatience show on his dark face lest she take it as reason to fear him.

When she smiled, his shoulders relaxed a little and he exhaled a little heavily. She was a pretty slip of a thing, he continued to reassure himself with that much, and she seemed – at the very least – eager to please. Perhaps this would all work out in the end. At her inquiry, he let his gold eyes look her over briefly before replying as his legs unfolded and he made to stand.

"Hare." That seemed as if it might be easy enough for her to catch on her own; giraffe, after all, would be pushing it.

Tyst was probably anything but friendly, and it was no small amount of guilt that he realized that might be an issue here. He did not need his thrall lording over or pushing around his new mate, whether intentionally or otherwise; and he supposed the young lioness would have need of a friend. He made mental note to procure her one on his next raid. Perhaps he could find a pleasant, quiet lioness younger even than this chit. His lips turned down further in a frown at the thought, it felt as if he were considering it an errand instead of a raid.

Her chuckle drew his attention back to her and his golden eyes flared for a moment, wondering if she was laughing at him even as the corners of his own mouth drew up in a cautious, confused smirk. Gods, he felt like a juvenile all over again with the prettiest freeborn at the bonfire. The smirk disappeared as he realized this and he made a low noise in the back of his throat.

He took in the confidence her eyes promised, squinting an eye at her before nodding gruffly. "You're welcome." He was talking too much, he knew – for him, at least. His daughter – his daughter that was older than his new mate – would have made comment already, he knew, just to get under his skin for some perceived earlier slight against her. He shifted his weight, but her final comment called the conversation to an end for him, maybe not intentionally. Drawing himself up, he looked at her for a moment.

And then decided he was, indeed, done with the conversation. Hauling himself to a standing position, he glowered down at his paws for a moment before muttering, "As do I, and then awkwardly bumping his head against her shoulder as he wound past her to make his way back outside. He would go find his party and plan their raid, or he would bring home a new skin for her wedding present, it depended where his paws carried him.