If Vigo was going to have second thoughts, now was his first real opportunity. As he approached the unseen border, the scent of sickness wafted heavily in his direction on a firm wind. He stopped at that edge, swallowing hard against momentary nausea. As he stood still, trying to regain control of his stomach, the wind shifted again. The stench faded as suddenly as it had come, though a faint hint of it remained, as if it clung to the foliage around him. He inhaled deeply, rolling his tongue in his mouth, wishing for something to take the inevitable taste remaining in his mouth. Try as he might, he'd been unable to keep his mouth closed for the duration of the influx of miasma.
As if on cue, a form stepped from behind a clump of low-growing trees. "Here, chew on this," the individual offered, scooping a pawful of mint leaves from a small pouch around her neck. He accepted them dubiously, uncertain as to their usefulness in banishing the horrible flavor. However, upon biting down, his mouth was flooded with the sharp, refreshing taste of mint, swiftly overwhelming and washing away the previous taste. He spat out the masticated leaves shortly thereafter and turned his attention to the helpful individual.
She was a... hybrid? She was blue and black with white touches, a full pouch hanging from her neck in the comfortable manner of long use. He had heard that all species were welcome in Kitwana'antara, but he hadn't envisioned being greeted first by such hard evidence of this. It was most unexpected, in fact. He'd casually passed by hybrids before in his travels, of course. It was hard not to. But he'd never taken the time to talk with any of them. This female was actually quite large, from his limited experience, and he wasn't sure what to think.
He paused to examine his reaction to her carefully. Clearly hybrids were going to be a normal part of life here, as surely she wasn't the only one wandering about the pride's lands. He quietly turned his thoughts inward, and was pleased to conclude that her mixed species did not bother him, down deep. He had so much to make up for, it was a relief not to have that shadowing his soul as well.
She, in her turn, regarded him with a sympathetic gaze. She truly felt sorry for the poor guy, though generally speaking most who approached the borders turned tail at that first whiff. It seemed like the goddess was protecting their home by ensuring those without the fortitude to endure their lifestyle were disabused of the idea of entering the pride's lands. "The smell isn't normally that strong," she told him truthfully, watching him carefully. "The wind plays tricks and seems to make it worse along the border sometimes." An effective if unpleasant measure that kept most strangers at bay. But not this one. She silently wondered why, but waited for him to speak, hoping for a clue.
"Thank you for that kindness," he nodded to the discarded mint leaves, his tone solemn. "My name is Vigo'tamort, and I am here to ask permission to join the pride of disease," he introduced himself as well as his purpose forthrightly. She might or might not be a border guard, but it just made sense to be as straight-forward as possible. This was his chance to make a positive first impression on the pride, and he hoped he could do so successfully. Her response caught him a little off-guard though.
"Why?" she asked simply. It really wasn't her intent to blow him so off course, but if a lion was to enter the lands, he had to be absolutely certain about his reasons for doing so. Just wandering in with thought of succoring the poor sick pride wasn't enough. One had to truly, in their heart of hearts, intend to stay for the long haul, thick and thin, sickness or health. He had to know for himself why he wanted to join. She waited patiently, orange eyes regarding him from above jagged blue cheek markings.
He stared at her for a moment, taken aback. He realized belatedly that he'd simply assumed that they'd welcome him with open arms, that they'd need him so desperately rolleyes that they wouldn't question his motives. Heart sinking, he admitted to himself that he should have known better. Just because the rest of the world saw them as poor, pitiful, desperate creatures didn't necessarily make them so. He took a slow breath. Apparently he was going to have to be brutally honest with himself and her if he truly did want to redeem himself via this pride. It was a hard thing to face, though.
He took a deep breath and sat his hindquarters down, his stomach upset for an entirely different reason now. He swallowed once, then met her eyes directly. "I have not lived my life as I could have... as I should have." She regarded him calmly, with quiet serenity that he envied. "It took me longer than it should to realize this," he continued slowly, "and as a consequence, I may have left many a female in a difficult position." He paused again, sinking his fangs into his lower lip. "I treated lionesses as personal entertainment," he continued, his throat tight and difficult to squeeze words through. "I was wrong, and I see that now." His throat tightened even further, forcing him to swallow several times before going on.
"It took the affection of a sweet, light-hearted lioness to help me to see my life in a new way." Wasn't that the truth? Nothing had been the same since he'd met Mng. Nothing would ever be the same, either. "I promised myself I wouldn't give in, treat her like I had the others." To his chagrin, he felt tears glistening in his eyes. What was this? Crying before a stranger? Truly, times had changed for Vigo. She continued to listen impassively, though her eyes were compassionate. Encouraged to continue, he took another breath. "I broke my promise. I gave in to the temptation that plagued me when my intentions should have been good." He bowed his head in shame, his shoulders weighted with self-made sorrow. "I could not bear to remain with her, to face her disappointment in me. So I left her, out there, all alone, to save myself some pain."
He hadn't quite looked so deeply as this before. Always when he traveled, he had kept his attention focused forwards, ahead, always to the future and not to the recent past. This last bit was a revelation to him, a painful one. As if he needed more to feel guilty about, here it was, staring him in the face as a reflection of himself. He gritted his teeth and raised his head to meet the lady hybrid's gaze once more. "I... feel the need to repay what wrongs I have done in this life. I want to serve rather than take. I realize now it is hubris to think that the pride needs me. The truth is, I need the pride. I need this chance to make things right for others, rather than always thinking of myself."
She considered his tale silently for a time, watching the emotions playing across his face like moonlight shadows. He was clearly in a great deal of inner conflict, and at least at this moment seemed entirely sincere. She couldn't say whether his change of heart would be permanent or not, but that was not her judgment to make. She finally nodded solemnly to him in both acknowledgement and agreement. "There is a ceremony you must undergo," she informed him, "that will expose you to the disease. Once this happens, you may not leave the pride, unless and until you prove to be immune. You may leave the borders under escort, but only with express permission." It was a harsh commitment, but she pulled no punches.
He listened and nodded slow understanding. He had avoided lifetime commitments all his days. It was time to finally make one. Perhaps the enforced method of keeping it would ensure that he stayed true to his word this time. Without much self-belief, but with an honest heart, he replied, "I am ready for the ceremony." Either his life was just beginning, or it would end soon after. Regardless of the outcome, he was determined to find repentance and absolution among his new diseased brethren.
