[PRP] Snap Out of It (Azora, Mittere, Modya)

[Talencia]

Azora was well on the road to deciding to simply move out into the gardens, away from the other members of the pride. This was outrageously impractical, of course, as she sometimes needed tending by a healer, and it was unfair to expect a healer to troop all the way out here to look after her. Besides, how would anyone know if she needed help? Sure, she could medicate herself somewhat, but she couldn't do it all for herself. Who would she send, one of her frogs? The whole idea was ridiculous.

The idea being ridiculous was tending to make the problem worse, however, rather than better. She was in another slump, her heart heavy and her soul agonized. Perhaps she was simply coming into her teenage angst a little late. Regardless of the why, she was once more hiding among her plants, tears welling from her eyes. This time, though, it was broad daylight, and anyone with half a brain could have tracked her heavy pawprints in the soft, irrigated earth of the garden. She was currently huddled beneath one of the shade trees that helped to keep the garden cool, sniffling miserably and murmuring to herself.

"Who wants to wake up to a grinning skull every morning? Or have to deal with moving a tubby sickie around a den? I'm sick half the time, and thus no good as a denmate... oh, what good is hope when there is none?!" Her voice was soft, but it still could carry.





Modya was touring the scattered plots of plants that served as gardens for their apothecaries. He was hoping to see how prosperous and effective the idea had become, and see if there were any improvements that could be made. He paused at each to speak with whomever was tending them, and made detours to inquire with healers about this or that. He was trying to keep himself involved, to keep his mind off the past and firmly in the present. In fact, the future was more often on his mind than even the present. If they could mitigate the worst of their Lady's blessing, perhaps it would have less of an impact in deaths. This was his hope, anyway.  

[mouselet]

The Master Warrior was not usually found within the gardens. She had no interest in growing things, though she understood and respected the inclinations behind the idea and the ready availability of herbs for Healers. But it wasn't that which brought her to this part of the pride today. No, that reason was much simpler and more straight forward - how could she properly consider the defense of the pride if she was unfamiliar with even the tiniest bit of their territory? And as the gardens were not on some distant edge, it behooved the Master Warrior to at least tour them.

That was all she'd had in mind until she heard the distinctive noise of someone crying. Blue eyes closed and the pink lioness took a deep breath, preparing to continue on her way when she heard words in the midst of the sobbing.

The sounds were full of self-pity and despair and while Mittere was no mothering sort, despite offspring, she truly hated people willingly drowning themselves in self-pity, self-centeredness, and generally being selfishly blind to the others around them. She released her breath in a sharp snort and headed for the noise.

"If that's your attitude, why not just kill yourself now?" the Warrior asked caustically as she came near.  

[Talencia]

Azora nearly leaped into the branches of the tree above her, so startled was she by the sharp voice. What was with people sneaking up on her when she was trying to have a good cry? And why did everyone who found her in such a state consider it their duty to intervene?! Still, she was too timid a soul to say such things, most especially when she realized who it was that spoke.

Her eyes widened when she turned to see the pink, scarred form marching towards her with a grim, sarcastic look. In that instant, her inner-self turned to a puddle of goo, with all the spine of a slow-moving snail, and probably about as much brainpower as well. "K-k-kill myself?!" she stuttered in shock and terror. Was she really being told to take such drastic measures? Why?! How could it be wrong to be unhappy? She shifted her paws uneasily and folded her ears back, tucking her tail close to her body defensively. Though she wasn't quite cowering, her posture indicated that she wasn't far from it. Another large tear rolled down one cheek as she stared at the pink lioness.




Modya couldn't have known what he'd be walking into later. Currently he was having an excellent day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he'd had some very fruitful discussions with apothecaries and gardeners he'd met along his way. At the moment he was considering heading into the main pridal area to find a healer to ask about an idea that he'd been discussing with the last apothecary. She'd had the thought that perhaps a cave should be found for a special kind of garden, one that catered to those that grew best in the dark and damp, such as mushrooms and those less used to the more arid conditions they lived in. It was an intriguing thought, and worth pursuing. But first, he really should stop by this garden, as it would be out of his way to come back after heading back towards the dens. His mind full of cultivation thoughts, he aimed towards the tree-shaded patch of plants, oblivious still to the two lionesses there.  

[mouselet]

She didn't know the red lioness by name, but the markings were familiar. Some descendent of Sliabh, unless if the warrior missed her guess. Not that she bothered to keep track of the pride's many inhabitants, but the immune Guard was rather prolific and tended to pass distinctive markings on. In truth, she was aware of him mostly because he was a Guard and thus a lion who should have more combat training than most.

But none of that had any bearing on this pathetic, weeping excuse for a lioness. Mittere had little patience with people at the best of times, and this one's woeful self-pitying lethargy was almost nauseating for the pink lioness to listen to.

"Yes. That way you wouldn't have to worry about being unloved and I wouldn't have to hear you bemoan your fate instead of doing something about it," she answered sharply. Having said her piece, the Master Warrior turned to continue on her way.  

[Talencia]

As Mittere turned, she was blocked from continuing by the pale grey form of the Vizier. He was frowning sternly at her, drawn up tall and disapproving. "So, this is how our Master Warrior behaves when important backs are turned?" he asked, his voice low. "Sorrowing hearts should do away with themselves to save you from the trouble of having to find compassion within yourself?!" He very clearly was outraged, eyes flashing. These days he didn't often present himself as a former King, but in this moment, his old ways shone through.

"How dare you treat one you are tasked with looking after in such a hateful way!" He bared his teeth, ears canting back. "You, who is an example to all warriors and teacher of ways to survive. Be ashamed, Master Warrior Mittere, and be grateful that your queen is more kind-hearted than you." He pushed past her and went to the cowering young lioness, his heart breaking for the poor way she'd been treated in her time of distress.




Azora's jaw had nearly hit the ground at the disdainful and heartless words that were spoken by the chilly pink lioness. All because she had cried? Because she had attempted to mourn privately for what she did not have? She had stared in complete and utter horror at the older, scarred lioness, but nearly squeaked when a male voice began speaking. He was practically growling at the Master Warrior! She was breathless with the audacity of it until she peeked around Mittere to see... the horror, it was the queen's father, a Vizier!

Mortified, she began to edge backwards in an attempt to melt into the plants she tended. She did manage to scoot behind the tree she'd sheltered under, very clearly cowering now under all the attention and disapproval. She cast the Vizier an agonized glance when he came upt o her, then buried her face in her paws and burst into fresh tears. It was all too much for her sensitive nature.  

[mouselet]

The pink lioness snorted. She had to respect the Vizier, as he stood up for his beliefs and lived up to his convictions. But he, like so many members of the Kitwana Antara, was a bleeding heart and Mittere was...not. It was probably fortunate that he simply walked past her instead of stopping to talk to her. She had no intention of justifying her actions to him, despite her respect.

Compassion was for those who could afford it and, frankly, it had no place on the battlefield. Mercy did, of course, and it was for mercy that the pink lioness had not continued berating the red lioness the way she might have some of her trainees.

Harsh words were more likely to help the young develop spines, soft words merely reassured them that they could remain limp and useless. Not that she had any intention of sharing those thoughts with the two.

Bleeding hearts, bah. The Kitwana Antara was full of them, and she had no need of more sugary sweetness to spoil her day. She had children to train.  

[Talencia]

As the older male put his paw around the sobbing Azora, he looked back over his shoulder to watch MIttere leave. His ears flicked back in anger, holding the shaking body of the poor child to his chest. It had been completely uncalled for her to badger someone who was not made to be a warrior. He might just be an old King, but it seemed to him that their Master Warrior should not be allowed to go about giving tongue-lashings to individuals as if they were her students, regardless of their state or background. Perhaps he should speak to Nawiri about this sometime. Taking a breath, he turned back to Azora, murmuring quiet reassurances.


She didn't even notice the harsh pink lioness leaving. She felt overheated, as if she was feverish. Her ears felt like they should be glowing, they were so warm. In fact... in fact, perhaps she did indeed have a fever! She sucked a shuddering breath as her surge of tears subsided, leaning against the strong comfort of the fatherly lion. "I... I didn't mean any harm," she stuttered in an anguished attempt to clarify the situation.

But her thought about her fever was distracting her. It was possible that this shock had gone badly with her delicate health. She began to shiver against Modya's grip, and gave a soft noise of misery in her throat. "Maybe... maybe you could help me to a healer?" she asked softly, feeling ridiculous and helpless, but unable to avoid it. She needed help, and knew better than to try and handle this sort of thing alone.  

[Talencia]

"Hush now, child," he said soothingly as she began to try and justify herself. Goodness, but he didn't need her assurances that she'd done nothing wrong! He'd heard enough of the conversation to gather the situation. She was a poor soul, taking a private moment in the gardens to deal with her emotions. Perhaps if she had been an attention-hungry individual creating drama in the dens, he might have actually agreed with Mittere handling it as she had.

But Azora was much too timid and sweet-natured to be so selfish as to impose her feelings on others. The garden was quite secluded, and it wouldn't surprise him if she came here often to vent. He only could remember seeing her smiling or quietly going about her business. She was not the dramatic sort, and hardly had deserved the chewing out for disturbing Mittere's prickly self-righteousness. He gave a huff of a sigh, stifling a rumble of a growl. "Do not worry, child, all is well. I know you well enough to be sure the Master Warrior was over-reacting. Fear not."

At her request, though, he looked down with mild alarm. For only a moment it flashed through his mind that Mittere might have done her physical harm, but he dismissed it almost as quickly. Granted, a wound might not show up so well against Azora's dark hide, but he'd heard no strike, and surely Mittere would not have gone so far as to draw blood. Not only that, but he was realizing that Azora's body was overly warm in his embrace. Ah, that made much m ore sense! "Of course. Come, I think Haruma is not far from here. We'll have you settled and as comfortable as may be in no time."



Azora rose, leaning gratefully on the Vizier's strength. Her heart still ached within her over her woes, but their pressing emotions were fading now in the face of more present and real problems. If she could get the right herbs in her, and could rest soon enough, it was possible this flare would pass sooner rather than later. Mittere's unkindness was already nearly forgotten, and was most certainly forgiven. She was not a lioness to hold a grudge, though she might be more wary around the Master Warrior. She'd heard of that lashing scorn and keen-edged tongue, but this was the first she'd experienced it personally. Mentally she relegated Mittere to the category of people she could not be herself around. Many masks were required, besides the one on her face that she could not rid herself of. If she could help it, never again would Mittere see Azora's heart. It was too tender and sensitive for the sharp and hard ways of such a warrior.

Modya, however, she mentally marked down as the sort to go to when she needed solace and sympathy. With relief, she let herself be led towards one of the kinder healers, yet another she knew to be safe to be herself around. It grieved her that the world and even the pride was filled with people she had to hide herself from, but she needed to keep herself protected and safe. Perhaps there was still hope... somewhere out there. Someone who would see her not as a youngster who needed succor and comfort, but as an equal, see her for who she was inside and, dare she lope, love her for what he saw.