[PRP] Burning Red (lulz too many names)

[Hopefolly]

Meshindi x Rhoma x Bandele x Gepeto x Pulan x Dira

IC Timeline: Three months or so after Three Too Many, near the IC start of Breytast Vindar, and overlapping A Little Birdy Told Me.

Rhoma was still absent come sunrise. She must have stayed out with the hunting party. The creek of his joints and a grunt dispelled the silence. Bandele felt his age in the crisp morning air.

Today would be the day, not just in theory, but in practice, that he ended this secret liaison with that red temptress once and for all. She'd enticed him three times now, dragged him down to her level. Those days he bathed incessantly, and when Pulan asked where he'd been, he never answered. "I brought you this," he'd say instead, and drop the plumpest bird or hare he could catch before her.

They'd eaten them out of necessity once. Here, they were considered a delicacy.

"It takes so much to catch so little," one of the pride's huntresses had explained to him, her accent thick. "If hare fell dead at our paws, we would eat them then." She was one of the few who spoke Swahili here, the others rambling off in some gruff, gritty language from their homeland in the desert.

Bandele never tried to learn it. He never had much to say anyone but Rhoma and Pulan, and if for some reason he needed to ask a question, he would defer to the huntress with a stub for a tail.

"A crocodile," she'd told him. "I was waiting for my mother by the water when it got me. I was blessed to survive."

They'd found this group by chance, long enough ago Bandele knew all their names. Since he could hunt and Rhoma was... recovered, they allowed them to stay, provided the only resources distributed to Pulan were ones he gathered himself.

He yawned and prodded the slumbering cripple beside him. "Pulan, wake up. Are you hungry?"

Shia bean

 

[Shia bean]

One too many coincidences one too many times. Pulan was blind, at times naive, but certainly not dumb. Bandele might not have revealed it all, but Rhoma had been kind enough to leave crumbs for her to follow.

At first, the pale lioness spent most of her days wondering. No hint of suspicion, no word of uncertainty. Then, she spent them hoping. Hoping her worries were unwarranted. Hoping that the pairs growing chemistry stemmed not from a relationship, but out of necessity. And perhaps it had... Now, Pulan was certain that, beneath the surface of familiarity, they shared in a secret she was not to know. Nothing had been confirmed, yet nothing had been denied, and while doubt had begun to eat the lioness alive Pulan felt no more inclined to pry then they did to spill. A secret worth keeping for sanities sake, even if she was not the one to keep it.

Her rationalization of it all was as weak as it was true. Nature. The realities of life. The strong bred the strong, and reared strong children. It was the equation Pulan knew she did not fit into, but had hoped that she might one day. It was a logic she respected as much as she hated, and it was what kept her humble in all that she was exposed to.

In the days leading up to the present she smiled more than usual. It was a pleasant enough front that few seemed to question. Occasionally, she'd give in to conversation with the newest crowd they travelled with, a fascinating lot in their own rights. Interacting with them seemed a surefire way to negate any trace of discontent, as much as it was entertaining. And when given the opportunity to, and in the silence of Rhoma and Bandele's absence, she would praise the Gods for her empty stare; the only thing keeping the truth at bay.

She heard him move, felt the shift at her side, and sucked in a sharp breath. Pulan had been awake much longer then her voice let on, waiting for the return of their third member like a mother might her child. Perhaps she was too good a lioness to hope the worse for the other female. Or perhaps she was far more selfish than anyone would believe, and simply wanted both to remain in her company always.

"Good morning Bandele." Where is she? "It might be a bit too early for me." Why did it matter so much? "Have you asked Rhoma... where is she?"

Where's Rhoma...

Hopefolly

Didn't add Rhoma here, not sure if we're going to have her captured already or if she's just out and about still! I'll add her next post if she's still with the group at this time.

 

[Hopefolly]

"I don't know." A truth and a lie, as sure as Bandele was sinner and saint. "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning," and that was all the honesty he had to give. He could hear voices from outside their den, once a haven, now a place where they lived alongside their secrets. They were muffled and indistinct at first, then as they grew louder, he could put a face to them. Hunters. He stepped forward to peer outside and saw them rushing through the wiry grass. Rhoma wasn't with them.

"What's happened?" he asked. Something must have. These lions were dilatory when resources allowed, and around here, they usually did. Food and water sources were secured. Safety was another matter.

If they understood his question, they still didn't answer it.

Something's happened, Bandele thought. "Something's happened," he said. "Come here, Pulan."

Shia bean

I figured I would let you decide, buuut let's say she is just arriving with the hunters who have spotted Meshindi and co over yonder with obvious aggressive tendencies and are rallying to gather teh troops? BD

 

[Shia bean]

Pulan remained quiet as the event played out, having only offered Bandele a slight nod before turning an ear. He said he didn't know. All she could take was his word.

His request would be heeded to with a sense of urgency, bringing the pale lioness to press against his side once it was found. Fear turned her lips to the earth. Frustration kept her paws fidgeting.

---

The band of unfamiliar 'rogues' would come whether Rhoma called to them or not. Familiar with the tendencies of nomadic males, she was without the initial fear-driven surprise that her counterparts shared; but would come to know of fear in time. No fool, but certainly no stranger of the violent and the vulgar, a lioness of many face could front otherwise and did so to avoid complications. As the group fled, so did she; only a few steps behind.

The female broke through the grass moments after the hunters had settled, exercising the limb that once dangled from its socket, all the while grinning; a gesture to surely stand out amongst a sea of uncertainty. At this point, her eyes had found Pulan leaning upon their male, and this drew no sign of indignation from the decedent of Firekin. Her knowing smile hardened, however, as she then directed the gaze to Bandele; and whether he held the contact or not, a loud purr erupted. As good a sign as any for Pulan to know that she had arrived, and the tell of a great many pleasures to the male at the other end of her affections.

She would press past the gathering and straight for the bi-colored male. Her reverberations would hiccup for only the second it took to run her forehead against his cheek, and her side against his side. When at last she ceased her movement it was not at the free shoulder of the male, but beside Pulan; towering over the pale creature who had reluctantly pulled away from Bandele's touch.

And once she had settled herself, Rhoma spoke ahead of her. "There seems to be a bit of a problem, I'm afraid." Through fangs exposed in that same, misplaced smile the lioness went on. Some might suspect it all a game, her lack of true concern. "There is a group of male lions on their way. I believe they might have seen us... and taken interest."

To this end she looked immediately to the piebald male, leaving it up to interpretation.

Hopefolly

 

[Hopefolly]

Shia bean

Bandele knew what he'd see in Rhoma's gaze well before he thought to challenge it. What he felt, eyes boring into hers, was the sensation of his skin crawling, a burning in his lungs and his veins, as helpless and spiteful as prey staring down a predator. She purred and his lip curled back, but he quelled the impending growl so that only a heavy breath scolded her.

His voice had the same chill his side did now that Pulan was no longer pressed there. "I see." The others were forming a straight line, each with a mane, though not all fully grown. Bandele didn't know where they hid their females, but he knew where he'd lead his. "This way. There's a crack in the rock wall." He leaned to nudge Pulan, a ghost of a touch, to guide her south with him. To not look remorseful was too much to ask of him, for all the good it did when the only lioness to see it was the last he'd ever want to.
 

[Shia bean]

While her eyes were spared of silhouettes on the horizon, she was not without fear. Rhoma's tone contradicted the words within them, They might have seen us... and taken interest.. Worrisome on its own. But in response, Bandele was curt as if saying, without saying much at all, more.

Pulan would have sought his side sooner if she had known it would go so quickly; the faintest of brushes followed by the coolest of breezes. And worse yet, in his place she scented Rhoma heavily by her side, her aid rough and without patience. The hurry they were in would be justification enough, but at the other end of the red lionesses jostling it felt like... so much more.

"You will stay with us, right?" She gasped in-between steps, something of a hitch cutting her words short at their end. So desperate was it a plea for Bandele, she would lengthen her strides just to find him in the mix of bodies. But It would be Rhoma looking hard at the male, remains of a smile curling her lip while the furrow of her brow played to the commotion at hand.

Because of this, it might as well have been her inquiry all along -- for those not well versed in telling the sweet and the sour apart.

---

Whether the others picked her out of the lot or saw the herd as a whole, He saw red immediately.

It vanished over the hillside like a vision of fire flickering and fading, farther and farther out of reach until it dissipated into nothing altogether. Unfortunate for her that a brilliant, red coat would stand for nothing more than a long lost home...

For a scorned Huria.

Hopefolly

Small introduction for Gepeto, here. I can remove it if you'd prefer!

 

[Hopefolly]

Shia bean

Never enough Gepeto, k.

Meshindi couldn't remember how much blood was on his paws. It used to be that for every lion he killed, he said a prayer before he slept and saw their face in his nightmares. Now, most blended together. It was getting easier, and that somehow comforted and terrified him all at once. I'm a murderer, he would think, but the voice without the vitriol and hostility was starting to get louder. I'm a reaver. I'm where I was meant to be.

If he was a murderer, what did that make Gepeto?

My brother. And a father.

The ongoing tumult all around him didn't keep him from noticing. The strangers were gathering their forces or fleeing, the reavers chanting and stomping to an eerie rhythm, and still Meshindi took note of the fire in his Gepeto's eyes. Maybe Meshindi would laugh the day he learned what a huria was.

As he hadn't yet, he was left to assume Gepeto's anxiousness was from the news it wasn't only Kondo with a welcome home present awaiting him. "I've got six nieces I'd like to meet," Meshindi said, quiet so only Gepeto could hear. "Let's not do anything too brazen and delay that, all right?"

If Dira had been born a lion, he'd be running this show by now. These idiots didn't have a clue. Such a shame they had the claws and muscle to compensate. "This way! Hurry!" The adage talked about birds of a feather. Maybe it should have been lions of a mutual lack of intelligence and foresight.

Kondo had sent some of his reavers to surround them from the opposite sides, and Dira had seen opportunity immediately. Panic had a way of consuming what little sense they had to start with; this in mind, he'd flown to a tree near the rogues and started shouting.

"This way! It's safe this way, hurry!"

Some hadn't heard him. Some had, but hadn't followed. Most of them within range, however, were obedient. Their numbers consisted only of the most cowardly males, the elderly, the non-combatant females and the cubs. Once he corralled them to the awaiting reavers, picking them off would be too easy.

Among those following the wave of fleeing paws was Bandele. "Just stay next to me, Pulan," had been his response. "Mind my voice and follow. This way. Over here, come on."
 

[Shia bean]

Of all the blood they had spilled, none would be sweeter than that of a Firekin born. The purest of red stained by its own godforsaken purity. He was charged by an invisible energy, one that if voiced aloud would have drawn upon Meshindi's curiosities. To kill one would be the start...

But for what purpose would it serve? He could hear Meshindi ask, more confused than concerned. Who else would understand the hatred in his heart but a Huria? That, with the power of demise now at his claws, the death of one such Firekin born would be the start of many to come, or perhaps the end of it all... but that it would mean something. A Huria would know that. A Huria would know exactly what it meant to be equals one day and to be less than dirt the next. The thought rose every hair along his spine, made his skin crawl and his eyes for but a moment, blur. For a moment Gepeto was reminded of Meshindi's true origins, that they differed from his despite their claim to brotherhood. That, even if Meshindi swore he understood -- he simply could not. Would not. Ever.

But as it was, Meshindi had once called upon him for a favor. To find his father. To right the wrongs. To join the ranks of the Stormborn. Something Gepeto neither wanted nor would ever be given the opportunity of. What purpose would it serve? The only purpose that matters -- Mine.

"Do not burden me with those reminders." Gepeto was short, angrier than necessary and spoke louder than what was offered to him. His attention could not be swayed from the march ahead, or for those who were much more observant-- from the darting red lioness upon the plain.

------


The first call gave her reason to fumble, a stagger of a step sending her several behind the masses. It took her longer to realize it wasn't familiar, but less time to note its friendliness, and with Bandele's call guiding her along she soon found the rhythm again and fell in beside her companion. Mind my voice and follow. This way. Over here, come on.

"Okay..."

But panic had a way of both revealing things and having them overlooked. Pulan's safety was guaranteed. The slower her steps became the slower Bandele's would become. If the pale lioness were to fall to her side, Bandele would be there to drag her across the plains. It was clear that their investment in one another's livelihood was true. As for Rhoma, whose steps had slowed some time ago, allowing her to veer off from their chosen path; she quickly realized that she would not garner the same response. It was no abandonment, simply a choice, and the red temptress could not ignore the wound such realities of circumstance inflicted. She made the conscious decision to go it alone. After all, history had proven that at the end of the day who would be the one to care for her if not herself?

The answer was nobody.

Not out of suspicion but pride did Rhoma take a wide left, away from the bird's guidance, racing across the savannah in search for thick brush to move through. She was fast, but would not outrun them in the open, so to conceal herself was the better of two options. When an opportunity presented itself, she crouched low and played with her breaths to muffle the noise; further distancing herself as swiftly yet as carefully as she could.

Hopefolly

 

[Hopefolly]

Shia bean

Irony came in many forms, same as a lion. It could aim to destroy you as Rhoma did, or it could be a blessing as Pulan was. Bandele would have safeguarded his dear, bitter home wrecker with the same tenacity he did their sweeter companion. It was true he wouldn't have done so with the same amount of heart, though. Yet he managed, against all odds, against the very common sense he held so dear, to believe without trying that Rhoma's pride was not such a sin suffered she'd have left them just to abide by it. He assumed instead she had grown suspicious of the bird and fled elsewhere.

It wouldn't be until later he'd know she hadn't and that his misconception spared Pulan the same fate assigned to her.

When he stopped to look, to really look, he realized this bird was not one he recognized. There were larger ones who hovered around here, some were even pink, but this specific creature had no familiarity in his eyes.

He didn't explain himself to Pulan before redirecting her. "This way," he said again. They would go to their original destination, the gap in the wall covered with vines, and try to wait this out.

From afar -- but not near far enough -- he could hear the wails of they who hadn't joined him on this road less traveled. They were being captured, killed, taken forcibly. The eagle was a traitor.



Not quite. Dira couldn't be a traitor when he was never on their side to begin with. He'd spotted Rhoma veering off course, and due to this he'd missed where Bandele and Pulan had gone. They weren't as eye catching as the striking red lioness sneaking off by her lonesome.

Rhoma wasn't lucky, but she would likely never comprehend how easy it would have been for her to have been unluckier. Had Dira not happened across Meshindi first, had it been Gepeto he found... Things would have been different. A lot more red on that coat of hers.

Predictably, Rhoma wasn't the only one to flee and Bandele and Pulan weren't the only ones to escape. Dira recited those he had seen to Meshindi, right down to the color of their nose, then he left to do bestow his findings on the other reavers. Like water, some would trickle out, slip between the cracks, but too many was a spot on their record Kondo wouldn't take kindly to.

Meshindi wasn't sure where in the bedlam he'd find his brother. Wherever it was, he left him there and pursued the lioness himself.

Gepeto wasn't skinning this one. He had his reasons.