[PRP] Desert Whirlwind [Tolu x Ras]

[oo Ded]

The dusty desert wind was hot and dry. While most would have perhaps considered the weather as a little too hot for comfort, it came to Ras Alhague as a sort of comfort. This desert wasn't quite the same one the Kauzi'Ukame had occupied, but a desert was a desert and the sands were welcome. There was a bitterness in Ras, about the loss of his pride. It had been his home since birth, and his position as vizier had been one of power and comfortability. But the pride was gone, and there was little to gain in pining over the past.

Ras's steps were heavy and slow. Pale blue eyes pressed forwards through the rocks as he moved forward--the only place to go. He had no destination. No long term game plan. Having no place, wandering like this, it made his skin itch and his lip curl. There was nothing to be done about it, but it was still hard to get out of his mind. This homelessness. This life without purpose. It was pathetic.

His claws pushed through the sand as Ras moved, his frame bold and heavy. Gods this was getting old.

Meepfur

 

[Meepfur]

Tolu was getting impatient. This search for a male to sire cubs had dragged on for far longer than she would have liked. The rogue population was sparse at best in these parts, and she wasn't willing to venture further out than this. She needed to stay close to home and to her duties as a warrior. She had leave to do this, asked for and readily given, as the Burkuteshti were always in need of new warriors to replace those lost and strengthen their numbers, but she was not the sort to use it as an excuse to wander far and wide.

She just wanted to find a male - a suitable male - and go home, to return to the fight. And, to some extent, to return to the children she already had. They were grown now, becoming warriors in their own right, but they weren't there quite yet. They had much to learn, and she...she worried about them. She would never admit it, but it was the truth. Her son had come to her with his first scar some months ago, and she'd been torn between pride and heartbreak. A scar was proof that he'd lived, that he'd been lucky. He wouldn't always be lucky.

Tolu shook off the thought, resolving to worry about her over-eager Asil later. As she returned to the task at hand and scanned the landscape, she caught movement to the east. Lion-shaped movement. Intrigued but never optimistic, she moved towards it.

oo DeD

 

[oo Ded]

It was less common than not that Ras found himself with company out in the desert, especially after having left the pride. The lion was certainly not opposed to the notion of having company. Wandering these lands alone was a numbingly dry ordeal. So as his pale eyes caught the sight of another moving towards him--large enough to where it had to be lion--Ras Alhague's ears perked.

Like Tolu, his gaze held more intrigue than excitement. The thief's life led him to learn that over-excitement only lead to trouble. Instead, the lion held his head high and his muscles stiff, shoulders square and firm as he turned to meet the stranger.

A lioness, he noted. A scarred one. Ras had an appreciation for scars of a certain sort. Enough to imply a hardy soul. Not enough to imply a weak body to accompany it. The once-vizier held some of his own.

"Greetings," he called, his voice unwavering as it moved through the desert winds.

Meepfur