=--------------------------------------------------------------------------= ___ _ _ ___ ' | ` |__| |__` oooo | | | |__, .ooooo. o 88 ---------------------------------------------------- o8" `"o8 88 ooo oo888oo ooo ooo ooo oo ooo ooo ooo d8' " 88 8 ,8' `8. 8"8 8 8 o8' 8 8"8 8 d8 88 8 88 88 8 8 8 8o' 8 8 8 8 88 oooo 88 8 88 88 8 8 8 88o 8 8 8 8 88 di 88 ,o 8 `8. ,8' 8 8.8 8 `8. 8 8 8.8 `88. ,8i o88ooooo'o8o `"ooooo"' o8o o8o o8o `8o o8o o8oo o8 (c)"88oood' =--------------------------------------------------------------------------= The Lion King is copyright 1994 by the Walt Disney Company. This MUCK in no way constitutes a challenge to this copyright. =--------------------------------------------------------------------------= [ March 26, 2000 ] _( the pride lands )___________________________________________________________ In Front of Pride Rock You stand in the middle of the vast Pride Lands, and as you gaze upwards the familiar monolithic shape of Pride Rock towers above you. As you look around yourself, you see several examples of the denizens of the Pride Lands milling slowly around the area: giraffes busy among the leaves of the baobab trees, a small herd of gazelles cropping the grass and peering around interestedly, and several lionesses lying lazily in the shade below the Promontory of Pride Rock or sunning themselves on nearby flat rocks. You see a path running up the side of the Rock, leading into a dark cavern's mouth above you. South [S] Northern Savannah [N] In [F]ront of the [P]romontory [Pa]th in Front of Pride Rock -Pride Rock- You can see... [IC ] Akitepe; westward leading, still proceeding... [IC ] Kitran [IC ] Ayorith, better know as Yori. Mewl! Akitepe ...a black-eyed youth, weatherbeaten and worn like seafaring rope securing sails to ships. Oh, it's no doubt he is twisted into serpentine coils: frayed at the edges, unraveled in parts, chewed through at sections and wound too tightly in others. While one end, it seems, is dragging deep into an uncertain ocean, the other is tied into an unintelligible knot at the very height of the mast -- giving him sight to see to the horizon and beyond. Strange, how one body can be and hold so many different things; chameleon, reptilian, lion in limbo. Conundrum at it's best. At one moment he possesses the face of an adolescent angel, one only now beginning to shift the expanding wings attached to corded muscle of the shoulder but at the same anchored firmly to the earth by their weight. Upon the next he is beyond such corporeal definition -- this strange, skeleton boy, skin and bones and knobs beneath a pelt the color of dead grass, with eyes like those in skulls and a strange, grim manner with an monastery air around him. Maybe it's the realization that he is finally growing, upward, curling like snapshots from fire -- for his own wings are growing: the first beginnings of a mane the color of blood dried on sandy earth, sprouting at the backs of his ears and rising in a rigid mohawk down his neck. Somehow his face is of adolescent natives: he is burdened with the same mantle as young warriors on horseback. Fate has a funny way of redesigning things. Or maybe it's nature, reshaping and altering, transforming and terraforming barren wilderness into a flourishing landscape and a land flowing with milk and honey into an empty, worthless plain. Either way, this boy is changed from the child he was -- either falling from grace or desperately trying to ascend to it. There are remnants on him, vestiges of a life much different than the one he lives now. He has shed one skin, it seems, writhing to be free from one web. Now he will either spin his own, or become caught in another. "How do you know?" Akitepe asks, more clearly this time, watching Kitran intently. His left haunch twitches, the muscle betraying any reserve knotted inside of him. "How do you know they don't know me, already?" Batui weaves through the grass, moving in from the savannah to the north. As usual, he is hardly stealthy. Kitran blinks, "What do you mean, know you already? I know this much: I've met the Queen. She's very nice and took me into her pride without any questions asked. I'm sure she'd do the same for you." Ayorith perks her ears up, gazing moving to glance at the unfamiliar, but familiar (If that makes sense) serval. And something changes inside of Akitepe. He watches the boy levelly, his voice still and straight, and clarifies himself -- not for the first time. "I said: What if they know me already. What if they know my name, and where I'm from. What if they know things you do not, Kitran. Will they feel comfortable in hearing that a boy they welcomed into their pride has taken the duty of welcoming others?" Batui returns the female's look steadily, showing the hint of a smile. Right. Let's try this again, shall we? Say hello and hope for a pleasant encounter. The serval's appearance startles Akitepe, and he shifts himself, his haunch twitching once more. In fact, the whole leg jerks, this time, and as the afternoon light begins to wane and darkness edges over the eastern horizon, anyone's confidence may begin to shatter. Ayorith drops into wearing a soft smile upon the edges of her lips, remaining up on her rock but now stretching her forelimbs out in front of her, raising her rear body first before completely standing up there. Trying to appear more awake then she actually is. Batui keeps his gaze fixed on 'Yori as he seats himself on a clear patch of ground. Has to be admitted that it's no bad thing to meet another of their kind, even if being social is not one of his strengths. Kitran frowns, "Touche. Well, I welcome you anyway. I won't take the liberty of speaking for the rulers, for the reasons you pointed out but..." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees another serval. He rolls his eyes and looks to him, not showing any emotions against him, only a slight smile as he turns to face him. Ayorith debates, then decides to actually clamber down from her rock in an odd little hop upon her left forelimb only against the floor then her rear limbs, carefully doing so, now floor bound she glances between Kitran and Akitepe a moment, then looks back at Batui. Batui degins to favor Kitran with an ironic look, as if imparting a shared secret. But he does not speak, and quickly returns his attention to Ayorith, noting what seems to be evidence of injury. The elder boy peels his lip back -- words bubble as saliva at the corners of his mouth, but he holds his tongue. Off in the distance, an elephant's trumpet can be heard, and Akitepe lifts his head, looking eastward, searching out their silhouettes against the horizon. The dead half of the gerenuk -- empty eyes still staring vacantly towards pride rock -- remains, as expected, still. Ayorith murrs, her tail slowly flicking as she glances up at Batui, debating the distance. Kitran looks to the adolescent lion and raises a paw as if to say, 'One second, please' and pads to Ayorith's side, sitting down next to her and facing the other serval. Batui looks away from the female, politely, although in any case he has attempted not to be overly obvious about watching her. Pretending interest in the distant Elephants, Batui waits for Ayorith to make the first move, if she indeed wishes to do so. The paw, however, remains unseen. Another trumpet from the elephant matriarch and Akitepe leans down, hoisting the carcass into his jaws, again, the two spindly forelegs danging like marionette strings from his jowls. Then, wordlessly, he turns and disappears into the grass, elephant-ward. Akitepe has left. Ayorith stops and glances at Kitran, mewling softly in curiousity and cocking her head. Kitran smiles, leans toward her and whispers in her ear. The male Serval's eyes narrow as he catches some hint of these goings on by the sound, but he does not yet turn his head, observing only out of the corner of his eyes. Ayorith cocks her head, smiling and turning it to whisper back to Kitran for just a moment. Kitran smirks and whispers back in reply. Ayorith smiles and chuckles, whispering something again to Kitran then glancing up at Batui, "..Nice to see you again." Batui finally shifts himself to face the other two once more, making a faint throaty sound as if to clear his throat. With a bob of a nod, he answers, "A pleasure." Evidently, however, that does not extend to the cub. Kitran shrugs and makes no reply to her whisper. He looks to the serval the same way he looks at any other animal: equal. He smiles and waves, hoping to show this. . o O ( That's right Kitran, wave to the arrogant and self-righteous serval. Show him that lions are more civilized, that they socialize with other species. ) Batui remains most definately unimpressed, and makes no move to return the friendly gesture, if friendly it is. Quite simply, the adult is unable to see the point. Ayorith sighs, lowering her head, ears folding back a little, "My father wasn't very .. social. Nor my mother really." Batui resettles himself in a position of attention, saying, "That's the case at times, of course... Might I ask your lineage, then, 'Yori?" Ayorith debates, gaze fixing on Batui, "..Ah..Guess you follow through with lineage's then?" He answers evenly enough, "I wish to know them, yes, of course. For all the usual reasons." Kitran smirks, "It isn't lineage that defines us, Batui. It's the truth of our existance." He says it openly, knowing that the arrogant serval will try to ignore it. Ayorith smiles slightly, her left forelimb nudging Kitran slightly, "Eh..Servals..Well..It means stuff to us..", really not being one with words as she can't explain it, "..You go first.", the last to Batui. Batui holds back comment, although he dearly wishes to say something derogatory, until Ayorith has spoken. At her permission, he gathers his thoughts, deciding how to begin. He says, "It is most of who we are. The past, the network of kin. We're solitary, often enough, or near to it--so when meeting another, it's important to know who they are." A pause, and then he continues, "For example, I'd have little other way of knowing who was kin. Take 'Yori here--one of the reasons I was asking. It's possible." Kitran smirks again but is curious and intriuged by this so he asks, "So in other words, if I was a serval and I came from a bad family, no matter how good I act and become, I'm still bad because of my past?" Ayorith murrs, adding in a softer tone, "Though.. I doubt we're kin." Batui answers 'Yori, "I like to check." Then to the Lion cub, "I wouldn't say that. All the more reason to work at oneself, change the reputation of the lines." Ayorith smiles slightly, "Still..You go first and all." Kitran's brow knots as he considers this and how it applies to him, "You know, as much as I hate to admit it, but you have a point there... But I still don't understand why, according to you, servals never associate with other races. We're not all that different from you." Batui says, "I never said we didn't associate. It's personal choice. Peronsally, I tend not to bother. I've activity enough with my own kind." Kitran shrugs, "Me personally, hanging out with others of my kind is fun, but I think hanging out with others not of my kind gives the fun a spice of its own." He grins to Ayorith then looks to Batui and smiles waiting for a response to that. The male grumbles under his breath, standing and stretching out the kinks from inaction. Not /enough/ activity, however. Ayorith nods her head slightly, furrowing her brows as it looks like she won't learn the name just yet. Batui shakes himself, and with a final look back at the unlikely pair, moves off. =--------------------------------------------------------------------------=