She had just finished speaking with Jord, and the young lady had troubled Gala greatly. She had, of course, heard about the sort of lion Magnus had become, but she couldn't for the life of her believe she had ignored it for this long! They had been friends some years ago, nigh inseparable while Thokk's parents were alive. Though Gala had grown estranged from him since the tragedy, her heart steadily coursed regret through her veins, getting heavier with every step she took. Perhaps it was her old age that had her feeling so sunken, but the thought of facing down the ruddy lion had her unnerved. What sort of state would she find him?
Needless to say, Magnus was still knocked off his rump drunk, and raging mad to boot. He had lost track of Jord awhile ago, but his boggled temper still urged him to seek her out. What for? Heck if he knew! She was a vile, horrible lioness and totally ugly. Well... that may have been a lie; but, she was definitely a b***h! He just so happened to be ruffling through some foliage in a vain attempt to track her, when his paw twisted under him and the heavy lion came crashing to the ground. "Uurgh", he rumbled through slurred speech, straining to push himself back up again. He felt wobbly and the world was spinning around him, the only thing he knew for sure was that he had to find that wench Jord, and teach her a lesson.
It wasn't long before she came upon the scene, Magnus crumbled in a heap and struggling to regain his paws. At first she thought he might be hurt, but it dawned on the wizened old lioness that this behavior was due to something far more different. After all, Magnus had dealt with a bum leg for years, and he seemed to get around just fine. This ailment, it seemed, was intoxication. A deep frown formed on her muzzle as she slowly, but firmly, made her way toward the mountain of lion before her. A part of her was afraid of how he would react to not seeing her in so long, but a larger, stronger part of her was furious. How dare he! How dare he let himself turn into this... this disgrace! "Magnus." That voice didn't sound like hers. It was sterner than she thought she could muster, and much harsher than the sing-song tone she had been named for.
"Huh, whut?" he grumbled out as he swung his large head to the side, nearly connecting with the creature's before him. It came as a bit of a shock to find himself face to face with a ghost from the past, surprisingly able to recognize her through his haze. He blinked a few times in confusion, bringing a paw up to rub at his hazy vision before staring at her once more. "Wat'd ya want?" he questioned, brows furrowing in furthering confusion. He had seen her in ages, what reason did she have for presenting herself now? Rather ungracefully he settled himself down on his haunches, blearily looking out at her. When did she get so... old?
There was nothing distinguished about this lion. Nothing honorable or Stormborn. He was a pile of mess, with disheveled appearance and the stink of n** heavy on his breath. She remembered when they were younger, when his mane was slick and dark like the sea, and his body finely tuned with muscle. Such was the image of a reaver in his heyday. He use to be handsome then, but this creature, he was nothing. A shadow of a much happier existence, full of piss and vile. Gala could not help the disgusted scrunch of her nose, pained and disturbed by this realization. "Is this all you have to show for yourself? Stumbling drunk around the pride and tormenting young girls? You should be ashamed Magnus, so very ashamed", she hissed at him, ears falling flat against her skull. Why had she come here? What had she hoped to find? Her worst fears realized, Gala could only feel resent for the ex-reaver... and ex-friend.
At first he wasn't sure how to take that. He wrinkled his nose at her, his mouth dumbly left agape as he tried to comprehend what she had told him. Eventually the haze bubbled up to the surface, the drunken lion withering in a show of great anger. "You have no right!" he began, voice rising to a thunderous roar as he struggled to his paws once more. "No right to say such things! Dat damn girl refused me, made a fool of me!" he raged, claws digging into the stony earth of the Stormborn fortress. "And YOU! his glassy eyes fell upon her, the aged lioness of a vision from his past. "You dun talk to me fer years, and you finally show up to throw dis in ma face? Ya never cared 'bout me before gurl, so why start now?" he rumbled, a deep-set hatred streaked across his face, his lips pulling back to expose yellowed teeth.
That hurt. Truly it did. She never should have come here this day, never should have been drawn into Magnus again. His words tore at her, buried themselves deep in her chest and twisted at her heart. Gala could not contain herself or her reaction. She did not break into tears, for that was not the Stormborn way, and by the gods was Gala Stormborn. Instead her claws raked him across the face, as an anguished snarl hissed past her lips and curdled her blood. "You b*****d! she roared at him, rising to shove him with a powerful blow from her forelimbs. To her satisfaction, he tipped over quite easily in his drunken state. "You flower-blooded fool, how dare you! Her claws found themselves against his mane and pressed to his throat. For a moment she stared at him, lips pulled back into a snarl and blue eyes flashing like lightning. Pathetic. She couldn't help thinking that this was not the lion she had loved so many years ago, that this husk of a male could not be the same reaver. Slowly she composed herself, removing her claws from his throat and easing her lips down into a frown of contempt. "You're wrong Magnus. Have you ever wondered why I've never married?" she hissed, drawing in close to keep his eyes on hers. "I was waiting for you, but now I see", she spat those words, a dark expression veiling her features. "For what? This pile of s**t? You're not worth it Magnus, I shouldn't have wasted my life wishing you'd come back for me." She backed off from him then, tensed and clearly agitated. She hoped it stung him as much as he'd hurt her. To the gods she hoped it did.
Those blue eyes bore into him, freezing his blood and driving the haze to the far corners of his mind. What she said, what she did, it sobered him up quickly enough; and, just in time too. He got to hear all the horrible things she said, all the pointed daggers that stabbed at him as he lay on the ground like a helpless cub. What kind of reaver, no, what kind of Stormborn was he to allow an elderly woman to push him over so easily? Had he truly slipped so far? He could see her now, past the haze of intoxication and anger, and saw the lioness he use to know. Beautiful and strong like the sea, full of love and fury like he had never before witnessed. And... full of pain. He'd done that to her. Twisted his little silver lioness into something she should not have become, and made her wait many long years. Guilt choked him, pain strangled him, and the scent of his own blood trapped him on the ground. The ruddy lion didn't know what to say or how to fix this, so he stirred, attempting to get to his paws. It surprised him when a single, cold look halted him in place and held him prisoner as he lay on his belly like a beaten thrall.
What more could she say to him? He looked beaten, hurt, and though some small part of her reveled in her vengeance, a large part of her wanted to go to him and comfort him. Her face once more twisted into vile resent, more for herself than him. What a fool she had been. "Do not get up Magnus. You belong there, on the ground with the worms and dead things", she told him bitterly, a visible shutter creeping down her spine. She was done with him, done with these feelings. Or so she told herself. Without further regard to the ruddy lion Gala turned her back on him and walked away.
He did not move from where he lay, just simply watched her walk away from him and the things he had done. Had his life seriously gotten this far out of his reach? He remembered he use to be proud, a reaver of honor and glory, but those memories felt like a lifetime ago. He was not the same lion he use to be. Gala knew it, he knew it, and Jord had known it. The dark lion pressed his chin to his paws and stared at the dirt as the pain and humiliation stabbed and twisted in him. He had disgraced himself, he realized. His lids shut heavy against his eyes and there he stayed, heavy in thought for what felt like a lifetime.
(Word Count: 1612)
