[PRP] Gone Fishing (Gable x Rapha)

[Hopefolly]

Some things were common knowledge about the reigning Muvukol, including (but not limited to) his vehemence when faced with inefficient, squabbling morons; his readiness to dole out discipline; his allergic reaction to commending anyone. For anything. Ever. It had been joked if one of them managed to convert all of lion kind, the Muvukol would point out there were still hyenas left.

Some things were a matter of prospective. Truth be told, Gable did strive to be fair-minded. Whether or not what a born and bred Nergui thought was justified aligned with the opinions of these newbloods was another matter. One Gable didn't concern himself with.

Finally, there were the things very few knew for certain: One, he preferred his name and honorific to his title when being addressed; two, he was frequently bothered by headaches. When bothered by became instead suffered from, Gable took refuge near the river.

During these trying times, the Muvukol had a fish skeleton he would leave next to the tree he slept under. It was a signal anyone who had the gall (or authority) to come looking for him so early in the morning understood by now.

Gone fishing. Do not disturb.

Unless you outrank me.

The tepid waters were refreshing enough for the likes of him. He tromped around, swatting at the fleeing fish with intent to pester more than harm.
 

[Kaelyndra]

Rapha never saw the fish.

Her own cave was left empty. The echoes that bounced back to the voices that called her would be answer enough. The Xakaav was unavailable. Should an emergency occur, a bird would be able to pick her out quickly enough.

No one walked but Rapha, moving from one point of solitude to another. Surely, the silence was better over there. The next rock outcropping certainly seems a better vantage point than the other.

The Xakaav even allowed herself an undignified sprint down a pile of loose cinders, her feet sinking in deep as she tore down the slope. The cape on her back swung forwards, threatening to trip her, but she avoided its foils and came skidding to a stop on the bottom.

The pin that had loosely held her hair unclenched its jaws and skittered forwards--plunk--into a tepid, swaying river.

Rapha looked up.

Instantly, her eyes narrowed. The fur cloak was grabbed between teeth, yanked back over her back.

"Muvukol." It was a notation that she'd seen him. Perhaps he'd been too occupied with the fish to see her. Hopefully.  

[Hopefolly]

Luck was as much on Rapha's side as grace that morning: Gable had been engrossed in her folly, start to finish. Perhaps to allay any embarrassment, he'd said nothing on the matter. She wouldn't want any excuses made for her clumsiness and the fastidious lion wasn't exactly prone to that sort of charity to begin with.

Granted, Gable had more patience with Rapha than most. Stories of legend never told you what happened in the spaces between awe-inspiring battles and inevitable deaths. When action lulled, they had the burden of living their day-to-day same as anyone -- eating, sleeping, occasionally dropping things in the water. He had yet to meet anyone with remarkable acumen into high-ranking matters who themselves were not of such grandiose title. Too softhearted for a Nergui to say they need look after one another, but...

"Xakaav," Gable greeted, having breached the distance between them. He fetched the pin with his teeth, lifted his head, and watched her expectantly. To try and return it without some kind of assent would be unwise. A gaffe like that and she might chide him into drowning himself if she was in one of her bad moods.

Since it was Rapha, she was probably in one of her bad moods.  

[Kaelyndra]

A normal lioness, knowing of her rank and title would have asked permission to take the ornament from Gable. They might have simply taken it from his mouth with their own teeth, ears subserviently laid back.

Rapha's nose wrinkled against her skull with the idea.

"Kroukok." In common tongue, Rapha might have thanked him. However, the Xakaav's tone lacked adoration and there were no over-the-top expletives of her gratitude. It meant, simply put, what you have done pleases me. Proper behavior had to be rewarded in the same manner ill-behavior should be punished. Rapha was only guilty of going over the top in one of those areas.

"There will be fine," she added with a bob of her head. Right paw snaking out, she shifted aside dark rubble and silt at the river's edge to indicate the spot he should put the implement.

To say she liked Gable would have been a vast, terrible overstatement. Like often implied trust, and Rapha could not afford trust. But respect was a dish the Nergui loved serving and fought over in great hordes, and so she served it to him in appropriate quantities.

Small talk. The one impossible task Rapha could not handle. As a child, small talk had been easy. The weather, what they were eating, how her sister and brother had felt were important concepts to her. Now, she could give fewer dams if Gable had caught a fish than if someone told her a slave had died. When it was rotting into their water source, then she would care.

And she did not want to admit that she has so much free time that she would be content to sit, zone out on watching Gable bat fish from one side of the river to another. Instead, she waited patiently for him to place the ornamental clip as though the world had stopped spinning without it.  

[Hopefolly]

Gable took a meticulous rather than obedient approach to the task. He could oversee undisciplined throngs of new-bloods without fault. With no mercy he would break -- pardon, convert -- the most stubborn of slaves. A duty inane as fastening a barrette wasn't about to get the better of him.

Except it did, briefly.

Another thing they wouldn't speak of, he decided.

Rapha's trinket was secured as it should be and the world started turning again. Gable joined in after a bow of his head, pivoting to face the river, for even autocratic sorts could be swayed into following a trend. Speaking of which, he doubted this lioness be the last "she" he declined his muzzle for.

His corporeal self was content to be here with her, but his mind's eye never averted its gaze from the future. It relayed to him a message that their army was par for the course of some kind of female progression.

At least, that was his theory. Gable was no Kaar to know what lie ahead. But if he were, he was able to say with utmost certainty he still wouldn't want the Xakaav's job. The headaches would be ruthless and without end. There was no reason for her to fret.

Not that he bothered saying so. They would never agree on everything.

Among other topics, they differed on opinions of what it meant to "like" someone. By most accounts, he liked her. He liked Godlum. He liked many of the Braak and Shuko despite praying every night for a few less idiots amongst them. Where as Rapha felt she couldn't afford to trust, Gable's affirmation was that he couldn't be bothered to care.

If someone betrayed him and killed him in his sleep all to be the Muvukol, they'd find the title was punishment enough for their trespasses. He sure had.

Gable asked no questions, told no tales, and made no attempt to engage her in idle chatter. He returned to his fish and wrangled them into a shallow end of the water where many rocks had formed a kind of barrier to keep them from darting back out.  

[Kaelyndra]

Barette returned to its rightful place, nothing more to keep her there, Rapha began her walk again. There was considerably more grace in her step, and to the watchful eye, a rise in the spine between her shoulders where she carried tension. It took grip of the tendons in her limbs and swept all the way to her claws. In this way, she was always ready to strike.

Rapha had spooked a grouping of nesting birds once and had snatched two out of the sky before many in her group had known what had happened. The Nergui might have explained it as reflexes given by the Graos Oma, but in reality it was a bomb wound too tightly and ready to explode.

The lioness pattered down the shoreline, daring the water to leap out and touch her dry paws. Then, she paused, swiveled, as though suddenly making up her mind, and took a seat.

Pale green eyes focused on Gable's paws. Not his face, she would not create that awkwardness between them, but each one of his solid strokes. The fish did not stand a chance.

If anyone were to pass by, surely they would have thought judgement day for the fish had come. Or, an unlucky Kulukadok had landed in the pool.  

[Hopefolly]

Gable didn't mind the audience and functioned no differently in her company than he would have left to his own devices. The desire -- no, the impulse to showcase your talents he felt (hoped) was ingrained in every Nergui. The muvukol was not spared this ego; however, his every move had been precise well before Rapha's arrival. There wasn't really anything he could have done better.

A total of five fish were corralled into the enclosure. Gable knocked one more rock into place, impeding their only means of escape. Aside from depriving them of their freedom, he did them no harm; these were his hobby, not his prey. Time had not changed his affinity for keeping aquatic life as pets.

He started back for the shore, sparing Rapha a glance. Any awkwardness she felt with the eye contact was her burden, not his.  

[Kaelyndra]

After his moment of near-death years ago, Rapha was unable to comprehend Gable's consistent love for corralling the water beast. Perhaps his inability to see his own defenseless body, mane lulling two and fro in the current, was what saved him this unpleasantness.

The Xakaav's front claws unsheathed and ground into the rock. The scratching sound lasted only a second before she caught herself and returned to the appearance of a relaxed posture.

"You would think there would be a way to coral kulukadok in such a way," Rapha finally spoke. The occasional ripple of fins could be seen from where she lie.  

[Hopefolly]

Gable's standing in the pride afforded him an ample amount of latitude, but he'd need four promotions and several more self-destructive tendencies before he'd say aloud what first came to mind: Maybe if the Kaar Oma focused more.

For her slain God, Mchawi had earned his respect and diffidence when in her presence. She was the type of company he had no qualms admitting he tried to avoid if his duties (or the lioness in question) did not command otherwise.

But.

Gable had expected this revered individual to have led them to another Kulukadok by now and his expectations were not gratified in the slightest.

He grunted in response to Rapha and said, "Most of the braak now couldn't kill one if we did. Bunch of useless carqouk and lazy fools like Mokarakk."

The muvukol had since moved far enough to shake off his paws and coat without risking any excess water splashing those around him.  

[Kaelyndra]

For all the things they did not agree on, Gable and Rapha met directly in the middle where matters of great importance was concerned.

Respect was the word Rapha carefully tiptoed around with the Kaar. It was dotted with dangerous and selfishly intentioned. It took a fool not to see past Mchawi's perfect statements, her utter obedience. For all of she and Gable's disagreements, Rapha did not find herself picking apart each thing he said for the twist in words which was not a lie but could be misleading. Graos Oma had allowed her to see past untruths, not truths half told.

Gable's grumbling words made Rapha begin a low chuckle as she rose to her feet and crept closer to the water's edge. The flash of scales was barely visible.

"The Kaar Oma's son shows some promise," she offered. But it was a musing sound, purred out as though she weren't at all convinced. Gable would know it well. Like his mother, Drogon seemed to think capturing two feathers made him a god-killer. When he brought a head home to toss at the Xakaav's feet, then they would see.

"But they are bored of clicking their claws on black rock. Perhaps they need a mission they cannot fail. Then we will see the difference between braak and ressra."  

[Hopefolly]

Gable snorted. A mission they couldn't fail, hm? Rapha was more of an idealist than most thought to give her credit for. Thinking of leading some of those braak into an actual battle was enough to exacerbate the ache behind his eyes. Still, it wasn't an absurd proposal. To have a series of filler missions beguile bored soldiers? A tactic he'd gladly adopt if he were of rank where this was his problem.

He was not of rank where this was his problem.

"The worrurd would appreciate the suggestion," Gable offered casually. They probably wouldn't, but that was just another thing he need not concern himself with. "Once I recommend the braak for promotion, they're out of my paws."

Oh dear. Was that a trace of bitterness in his tone?

"I've got enough to worry about with these emkurcar and dhlurr," Gable continued. His expression soured and his lip curled back in an alarming, threatening way. Obviously, this ire was not directed at the lioness before him. "There's a few of the latter who are trying my patience, Xakaav."

His posture and voice suggested they'd be trying the taste of their own blood if they continued to be obstinately unmoving in their beliefs.  

[Kaelyndra]

"But not out of your head," Rapha casually pointed out. The lioness' tail was swaying now, as if it could counterbalance the rest of her body as she leaned over the water. At the back of her mind, the Xakaav considered it would be terrifyingly easy for Gable to push her in and drown her.

When she glanced over her shoulder, the menacing curl of Gable's lips was briefly discomforting. It was too much coincidence for one Xakaav to handle. Without so much as wetting a toe, Rapha finally pulled herself away from the water's edge.

"No one will miss a few hard-headed slaves." And it was true. Though they were momentarily stationary, the Nergui had been moving. They'd taken down Hongshan, neighboring tribes, and there were still scouts finding locations to spread through. Join, or die: that was the motto. It made for plenty of slaves.

Gable's fish were of more value.  

[Hopefolly]

Gable lost sight of Rapha after her retrogade move from the water. Refusing to avoid her gaze was one thing. To seek her out was far too close to watching. They had many months and several departed siblings between now and the last time he had been willing to observe Rapha as Rapha.

It was best not to stare where the Xakaav was concerned. Fortunately, his fish didn't mind being watched.

"No one will miss a few hard-headed slaves."

But would Gable miss an opportunity to prove something? That was the real question. Crush the rebellious and the meek were sure to hit the dirt. He'd rather be known as one prepared to kill the unruly than permit them to make a fool of him, yes, but would it not ultimately be more beneficial to break their spirits rather than their necks?

Five converts and one dead slave was fine. Six converts was better.

One of his fish had sprang from the water and was flopping around on the shore.

How long was too long to let the defiant live and breathe? How many chances should they get?

"Am I being instructed to kill them?"
 

[Kaelyndra]

Both eyes had found the fish. No paws moved to its aid. Rapha's head tilted at it, genuinely interested in the movement it made on land. Witnessing a beached fish was a rare, interesting event. As cubs, they might have drug them out of streams merely for the fun of it.

They could line up the rebellious ones in a line, take them out one at a time while their brethren watched. Rapha could be delighted in the reflex of power, watch Gable put forth an order she had spoken. But, these are things a child would do. And as foul of a temper that Rapha possessed, the Xakaav were known for wisdom above bloodlust.

"No. They are your fish." A pair of pale green eyes leveled on Gable. It was clear to both of them that it was not the water-bound animal to which they were referring.

"Their lives are in your teeth." For once, those shoulders rolled in a release of tension, feeling comfortable in observing Gable from slightly behind him. "Make sure they remember that."  

[Hopefolly]

Perhaps Gable was not as trusting of Rapha as he claimed, nor as willing to come to terms with his own demise. With her hovering behind him, his shoulders were visibly taut. Or could it be the thrill of a potential bloodbath that had him so tense?

Silence imposed itself on them like a third party.

Gable must not have minded the audience and tossed his reservations to the wind. The Muvukol met her eyes from over his rigid shoulders. Not long enough to be a stare, not quick enough to be a glance. He snorted, turned back, and made his way to the stranded fish.

How long was too long to let the defiant live and breathe? How many chances should they get?

Gable swept his paw forward --

-- and nudged the insolent fish back into the enclosure.

In passing, he bowed his head to Rapha.

There was work to be done.