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Posted: Sun May 26, 2013 8:08 pm
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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.
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Posted: Sun May 26, 2013 9:16 pm
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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.
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Posted: Mon May 27, 2013 1:30 pm
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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.
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Posted: Mon May 27, 2013 2:17 pm
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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.
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Posted: Mon May 27, 2013 3:42 pm
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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.
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Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 6:02 pm
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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.
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Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 7:14 pm
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Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 9:09 pm
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 12:20 pm
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 12:41 pm
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 1:20 pm
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Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 11:33 am
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Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 7:22 pm
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Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 11:32 pm
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Posted: Fri Jun 07, 2013 12:45 am
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