Post by Shomoro on Apr 15, 2008 1:25:36 GMT -5
...Taught by the student. 
Involved:
Amahl, Tyne Prince
Sammar, Jinjin'tau Royal Bodyguard
Chaosti, Jinjin'tau Ambassador
Anwuli, Jinjin'tau Lioness
Kivuli - Grasslands
He's blissfully unaware of the situation in Tyne--well, Amahl isn't feeling particularly /blissful/, but it's just as well that he doesn't know his mother is so ill. If he did, he might well try to run back home, and...well, his family knows how well /that/ would work out. Instead, oblivious to the fact that Waset is dying and Kamau is being sent out to look for him, he's been exploring around a little. He's spoken to Kisehemu a few times, and the knight's been infinitely more helpful as far as any sort of /social/ training goes, but the adolescent has found himself on Sammar's trail this morning. It's still cool enough that the sun hasn't heated everything up yet, so wandering around is fairly comfortable. If he doesn't find the male soon, he'll probably wind up beelining for the nearest source of shade and trying againl ater...but for not he wanders along, sniffing at the grasses here and there.
As the morning sun creeps up from behind the mountains of Kivuli, the sky is rendered a color of purple, as the last of the darkness is shrugged off. And it is in this hour, that the pale golden figure of the Jinjin'tua Ambassador makes her way through the grasses. Ambassador. By now, surely the King and the rest of his pride have discovered the joke of her title. Afterall, the lioness has done little to enforce it. In fact, she's done a d**n good job at disappearing. Some habits never die. Though with the light of the morning, Chaosti has comes to many terms with her existence within this pride. The foremost being that this is NOT the Jinjin'tau. And that in and of itself has stirred the scarred lioness from her hiding place. And it is with a deliberate stride that she pushes through the roughage, both eyes open, though it is the cold blue orb that surveys the land. And in this observance, it doesn't take long for her to notice the scrawny Tyne Prince making his own way through the grassland. Not who she was looking for, but he serves a purpose nonetheless. And so, Chaosti alters her course towards him.
Mizuka and the rest of Kivuli, Amahl thinks, are wiser perhaps than some of their visitors have given them credit for. Certainly they've done something to warrant the rulers of Jinjin'tau sending one of their own daughters out here...although some of her retainers seem bizarrely incapable of doing their jobs. He can't be the only one who's noticed, either. But as an outsider with almost no stake in what's going on here, he's able to find this whole thing to be simply...fascinating. Both of these prides do things so differently than he would! The Kivuli are closed off and the Jinjin'tau are...conspicuously absent. He frowns, stopping to nose at the ground; Sammar's trail is fresher here. And then pauses, his ears perking forward, when he hears something rustling in the grasses--it's too heavy to be a stray gazelle or something. He lifts his head, peering off in the direction of the noise.
The grass is patchy, but where it's present it's thick, and it's in one of those tall, scrubby patches that Sammar has laid up for the last four hours or so, for a snooze. The approaching cats go more or less unnoticed by him-- he's sleeping the sleep of an animal who knows he hasn't got much to fear.
The noise is no other than Chasoti, the lioness's holding little concern for stealth at the moment. Afterall, she has no desire to slip up unexpectantly on the small lion, least he keel over in fright. He does seem like the fragile type. And even as she closes in, the scarred lioness offers and soft chuff. She looks upon him full boar, the blue optic gleaming in the morning sunlight, while the blind white of the other merely stares on it it's oblivious manner. " Amahl..." His name rings out almost gloriously by her voice, despite the distracted hint of her further question. " Have you seen Sammar?" A single darkly etched brow shots upwards as she ask. And the manner in which she looks upon him is expectant. Afterall, the poor lion does seem to follow the 'guard' around as if attached by the hip.
An there is another, Anwuli isn't to far from Sammar at the moment. The lioness is stretched out in the grasses partly hidden within the grass and thanks to being at Sammar's side. Her ears twitch as a sudden voice crashes through the lovely bit of quiet time that she was /enjoying/. A grumble escapes the lioness as she rolls onto her other side, eyes opening so her bright gaze drifts one way and then another while she sniffs at the passing breeze.
Just because Amahl is of poor health does not mean he is stupid. The Kivuli have accepted his presence, given that he is a prince of their allies, but he knows that the Jinjin'tau don't hold any love for him. In fact, aside from Sammar, it seems like they haven't noticed him at all. So that one of their number--their reclusive ambassador, no less--is addressing him likely means she wants something. And, indeed, she does. He isn't fooled by a sweet tone of voice; there's no interest in him personally, just an interest in getting something out of him. It's that false friendliness, more than anything else, that causes his tail to swish behind him. "I'm looking for him myself, ambassador." He's close, but he hasn't followed Sammar's trail all the way to him yet--would have already, if Chaosti hadn't approached him. The Tyneian prince gazes back at her steadily. It's been awhile; he's settled in here, and he's spoken to a few people. He seems more confident, and it's not hard to figure out who he's been taking lessons from; he's got a bit of that Kivuli pokerface, although it's not nearly as pronounced as, oh, the local bodyguard's.
His sister shifts and Sammar's own ears twitch back as he groans, pressing his nose into the earth between his paws. It's a quiet sound, and the conversation that begins as he makes it more or less covers it-- which doesn't mean it doesn't make his ears twitch again, andhis head raise, swing blearily from side to side. What? Did he hear his name?
As the distance between them is closed, the scarred lioness comes to a slow halt infront of the Tyne Prince. He is right in thinking the way he does. And Chaosti can't help the pleasantries of her voice. It is just the way she talks. For in the end, the lioness would use him in her objective just as willingly as she would the next. Partly, because she does know him. And next because that is her nature. And the truth of this is discernible in the nonchalant manner in which she responds to his words. For with a single ear flick, her question about Sammar's where abouts are forgotten. Apparently, the question was raised only in an attempt to ease the awkwardness that lies between then. " No matter." she almost grunts, eyeing the small lion in a considering manner. " You will do." It is perhaps a harsh statement of belittlement, but the Royal A,bassador has her reasons for putting it just as that.
does 'not' know him.
Anwuli maw twitches while she shifts once more and pushes herself up onto her haunches, working on getting legs moving and her bones back into the right places after sleeping. "Wonder what she wants." She mumbled towards her brother. A forepaw is lifted and she licks across it a few times while sleep slowly ebs away as she becomes more and more awake.
Amahl merely eyes her in turn; his ears are set back at an angle, but that's all. "I don't know what you're talking about, ambassador." He doesn't have the lioness' honey-coated voice, but he's nothing but polite. "If you need something, perhaps you could ask the king or one of the locals? I'm not that familiar with the land or the pride here." All of a sudden, he glances away, his ears perking forward--Anwuli's voice is carried to him on the dry, weak breeze, and he peers off towards it in time to see the lioness sitting up. He doesn't really recognise her, but then again he doesn't recognise many of either group. His tail whips behind him again, uncertain; it would be impolite to just wander off without excusing himself, but on the other hand it would be impolite to just ignore her. He sends out a chuff as a sort of compromise, the sound of which Sammar, at least, should recognise, before looking back at Chaosti.
"Ummph. I have -no- idea. I was hoping she could ambassador him but..." Sammar's recognised their voices, although names are still escaping him. When Anwuli sits up he follows suit, a larger but only slightly shaggier version of her. "Hullo," he tells them both, gruff, squinting. "Secret meeting?"
Anwuli huffs at her brother. "As if it would be THAT simple." She grumbles out faintly while a yawn escapes her. Her maw twitches and she peers over to Amahl eyeing the young lion slightly. "Is that the kid that has been following you around?" Not that she cares but she never did get the kids name.
/There/ he is. Amahl's face brightens when the male's great, maneless body appears next to Anwuli's. Well, that answers both their questions. Now the ambassador can go do whatever it is she'd wanted Sammar for, and /he/ can--well, they've got a lot to catch up on. "Excuse me a minute," to Chaosti, polite, even though he doubts she'd bother to give him /that/ much were their positions reversed, and then he turns and trots a little closer to the others. "Not at all! I need to talk to you." The boy's smile is a genuine one, and something of it remains as he looks back to Anwuli. She looks a /lot/ like Sammar. Littermates, then? Well, that answers the question of which group she's with. (Although, really, he and /his/ siblings don't resemble one another at all, so he knows well that looks can be deceiving.) "Well, I /did/ follow you lot all the way from Tyne. I'm Amahl." /Prince/ Amahl, not that he mentions it. The whole point of his coming here was for him to try and eke out something that wasn't just handed to him because of his parentage, after all.
"He's Amahl," Sammar explains, like that -is- an explanation. And then, "Hullo. -You- two woke me up. And also Anwuli." Hard to tell if he's implicating -her- in the crime as well. "This is Anwuli," he goes on, and yawns at Amahl: morning breath. "Do you? About what?" Little vertical-type stretch, shutting his narrow eyes for a moment. "And what's Chaosti here for?" not unkind, either of the questions.
Anwuli ahs faintly as she hears Amahl. "I see.. Well then, nice to meet you Amahl." She says with a friendly tone and slight smile before glancing to where Chaosti is and shakes her head before glancing back to Amahl and slips quiet to listion.
Chaosti has disconnected.
"We did? I'm sorry!" Amahl's nose wrinkles as that stale breath hits him; Sammar could use a drink, it smells like. "Nice to meet you," he adds to Anwuli, flashing her another, larger smile in response. "I don't know what she wanted--" He's about to add that Sammar ought to ask her, but he looks over his shoulder to see that the lioness has vanished. All right, then. He arches an eyebrow, staring at the spot where she used to be. "--She asked where you were and then said I'd 'do' for something. I don't know what." He moves to touch noses with the older male, his whiskers fanning. "Anyway, I've been talking with some of the pride here--" he starts, sounding rather excited again.
"-- Oh, probably she wanted to talk to me in private." Which isn't -that- unusual-- although now he -is- curious. "-- Ooh? Been diplomating?" yes it's a verb now. He leans into Anwuli's shoulder a little. "-- What about? Something good?" it -sounds- good. Maybe Ndalia is leaving!
Anwuli smirks as her brother leans against her. "When did I become your personaly rock?" She questions with a joking tone and half nips out at his neck, but doesn't move. "I'm sure what ever Chaosti wanted to talk about can wait.. She did leave after all." Which means its not something important in her mind.
"She seemed to want me for something, too." The boy's nose has wrinkled again. "But whatever it is, I guess it /can/ wait." He and Anwuli seem to be of the same opinion; if she just up and left, it couldn't have been important. He was absolutely right about her, though; she hadn't bothered with so much as an 'excuse me' to /any/ of them. "I've been talking to that knight. Kisehemu? He's been teaching me some things." Like how to deal with certain uncomfortable social situations.
It's only when he's through with his yawn, jaws closing with a click, that Sammar moves to reciprocate that greeting, bumping his nose against Amahl's, his cheek, which he gives a rather odorous lick. When he settles back against Anwuli he leans a little more, deliberate. "Well, at least you're -one of us-, I suppose. She doesn't usually talk to just -anybody-." His eyes slit mostly shut again, like a sleepy bird's. "-- Ooh? -Have- you? Good. He seemed solid, I suppose. Have you found out anything about Ndalia?" suddenly, his eyes opening briefly wide. "-- What have you been learning?"
"Please.. she would talk to a mouse if she thought she could get something from /it/." Anwuli says with a huff before eyeing her brother as she is leaned against more. She gives his ear a good nip before she leans back against him once she has settled back to the ground. As the talk turns to Ndalia her ears perk slightly.
"He's /smart/." Well, smart and apparently he can fight, but Amahl hadn't exactly been asking to spar with him. "We didn't talk about Ndalia much, though. I mean--he told me why you guys are here, but I already knew /that/." He can't imagine what Sammar doesn't know about her that Kisehemu /would/, anyway. Still! "Should I ask about her next time I see him?" He glances to Anwuli as she speaks, and his mouth quivers; he's biting back a smile. He wasn't going to remark on it further, but it looks like his hunch was right. Her own pridemates would know her, after all.
"Well..." half-protesting, but it -is- true, isn't it? "You should," he decides. "I was going to talk to Mizuka about it, but..." trailing off, Sammar wipes a paw over his face. "You ought to," he repeats. "Smart? Pfeh. As long as he can kill things..." a little bit of -bluster-, that.
Anwuli winks at Amahl as she seems to catch some of the smile, even if it is a WEEEEEE bit der. A yawn escapes the lioness as she figures getting back to sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea. "You all talk away, I'm just gona nap here." She offers before starting to doze off once more.
Anwuli has disconnected.
"Well, I don't think he'd be a knight if he /couldn't/!" Amused, a little. "But I'll ask him about her, then. Should I ask about anything in particular? Nice meeting you," he adds to Anwuli as she makes herself comfortable. "Mm. Why haven't you talked to him, then?"
"You do that." More sleep w-ould- be nice... "-- Oh, no! Nothing in particular." Feh. "I suppose not. He seemed solid enough when -I- saw him," he repeats, and settles onto hisstomach again- -from the look he gives Amahl, he expects the other to follow suit.
"All right." The look Amahl gives /him/ is a puzzled one. "Are you going back to sleep? Should I go see if I can find him again?"
"You can stay here if you like." Was what he'd -meant-. "What, you're off to do -more- things? It's hardly even -light- out yet. Stay awhile." He raises his eyebrows.
"Well..." Amahl shifts awkwardly. "If I wait /too/ long to do anything, it's just going to get hot. I've been up since--uhm--well, it was still dark out. But I guess I can--?" He's a little surprised, really. Sammar's never stuck around him terribly long; he's usually (understandably) busy with other things. After a moment, he sinks down onto his haunches, rather uncertainly.
The other cat yawns at him, perhaps a little ostentatiously, showing Amahl that he -ought- to be tired because -Sammar- is tired. He rests his head on his paws, rolling his eyes up to watch the prince. "Maybe wecan both talk to Chaosti some other time."
Amahl doesn't look tired. Then again, it's doubtful that he'd have any problems dozing off, given how much cats sleep. "It'd probably be a good idea to move someplace with more shade..." he murmurs, but Sammar looks pretty settled in. "Mm. I don't know /what/ she wanted," he repeats, and is quiet for a little while, settling carefully onto his stomach. Eventually, seemingly unrelated: "Kisehemu said it's better to keep your thoughts to yourself. That way, they've got nothing to use against you, and if they can't control themselves as well you've got something to use against /them/." And just who are 'they'? One's enemies? Other pridal representatives in general? Amahl is frowning, his eyes gone a bit squinted against the rising sun. "That seems like a manipulative way of thinking, though. I think Chaosti's is too. She didn't say a word to me until she wanted something."
Sammar pulls one paw up under his chest. "Who are -they-?" he wants to know at once, a littles nort of amusement underlining the question. "Don't do things you wouldn't want other people to know about," rolling oto his side, "and it wouldn't be a problem. --Well. She's not very good at social things. But..." he sighs. "Perhaps you can use -your- new manipulationon -her-."
"He didn't say. But I think 'they' are you guys." Amahl cracks one eye open a little further, smiling at him. He's crippled, not blind or stupid. "I don't know what they could have done that they wouldn't want you to know about. He did seem a little distracted, though." He may not be stupid, but he doesn't know any of what's going on with Khamisa. Mizuka hasn't exactly been shouting it from the clifftop and neither has Kisehemu. "Maybe they're just very...private. Or they've got their own problems to deal with that they don't want interfering with everything else." He falls silent again, thinking of the problems that his own pride has been having. All the unpleasantness with the heirs, and Waset sick, though he doesn't know just /how/ sick she's gotten since he left. And, of course, this dry season; Tyne's been feeling it too even though, with all their rivers, the lands weren't hit as badly.
"They -have-," Sammar agrees, and reaches out with one paw to press it against Amahl's frail shoulder before pulling it back in against his chest. "You don't have to stay -all- the way over there, either." And head back on his paws again. "It's -really- all right. And we're not -bad-. Mistrustful, isn't he?" al ittle grouchy, defensive of his pride.
"What do you know about it, then?" Sammar reaches out to him and he hesitates a moment, then eases in a little closer. When he speaks again, he's lowered his voice a little--maybe he assumes that the older male wanted him to move in so they wouldn't keep Anwuli up. "Who said you were /bad/?" he adds, bemused. "This does seem like kind of a fragile situation, though. I mean--it sounds like your two prides have been talking for awhile, but sending you all over here to live? Really? I don't think you trust them, either," he chides gently. "So you can't expect them to trust /you/. /That's/ the problem. You're all sitting around being suspicious of one another, so of /course/ nothing's getting done and nobody likes anybody else!" So says Amahl, PhD. "You're supposed to be part of the same pride now, aren't you? You should all start acting like it." He's not just scolding the Jinjin'tau, it's obvious; the Kivuli have kept themselves separate as well, and don't think he hasn't noticed /that/.
"Oh, things. His sister's sick. But you ought to keep it to yourself." He shoots a brief, fond glance towards his -own- sister before looking back at Amahl. "Well--" he starts, but Amahl keeps going, and the maneless lion's ears lay back but he -has- got a point. But-- he doesn't feel comfortable just yet explaining to Amahl the reason -he's- keepig -his- distance. He just looks away after a moment. "I -did- go and talk to him." He mutters after a moment, and then flashes Amahl a brief and grudging smile.
"/I/ haven't heard anything about it." Amahl is frowning, too, but when Sammar's ears go back he gives the older male a rather wry smile. "See?" he says. "You don't want to be here, do you? Why's that? It seems like none of you want to give the other side a chance." His frown has cleared up; now he's just watching the maneless lion steadily. "If I hadn't given /you/ a chance," he adds quietly, "I wouldn't be here." That would debatably be a good thing right now, given that if he /wasn't/ here, he wouldn't be dispensing advice to his elders who are supposed to be teaching /him/. "Just think about it. You're not bad, but the Kivuli aren't, either." Okay, so he's going to make a lousy politician, believing the best of people. But now that he's gotten comfortable, the prince /is/ beginning to feel a little tired, and after he speaks he lays his chin down on his forepaws, shutting his eyes most of the way. They still remain open just that slightest bit, though, waiting to see if there's any sort of response.
"Mmm." Litlte more than a grunt, but he's considering it, at least-- these cats are just so -not like him-. It's hard. Which he can barely articulate to himself, much less explain to Amahl. He stretches out a little, bridging the gap between Anwuli and Amahl so that one hind paw touches the latter and one forepaw touches the former. Yawns, huge and noisy, before settling himelf. "Maybe I -don't-, but I -am- here, so I'll get used to it." Grudging, slow-- and sleepy. For all that it's grudging, he's relaxed. He's got a -few- people who seem more or less pleasant, and they're both right -here-. Which is a good thought to drift off on.
Involved:
Amahl, Tyne Prince
Sammar, Jinjin'tau Royal Bodyguard
Chaosti, Jinjin'tau Ambassador
Anwuli, Jinjin'tau Lioness
Kivuli - Grasslands
He's blissfully unaware of the situation in Tyne--well, Amahl isn't feeling particularly /blissful/, but it's just as well that he doesn't know his mother is so ill. If he did, he might well try to run back home, and...well, his family knows how well /that/ would work out. Instead, oblivious to the fact that Waset is dying and Kamau is being sent out to look for him, he's been exploring around a little. He's spoken to Kisehemu a few times, and the knight's been infinitely more helpful as far as any sort of /social/ training goes, but the adolescent has found himself on Sammar's trail this morning. It's still cool enough that the sun hasn't heated everything up yet, so wandering around is fairly comfortable. If he doesn't find the male soon, he'll probably wind up beelining for the nearest source of shade and trying againl ater...but for not he wanders along, sniffing at the grasses here and there.
As the morning sun creeps up from behind the mountains of Kivuli, the sky is rendered a color of purple, as the last of the darkness is shrugged off. And it is in this hour, that the pale golden figure of the Jinjin'tua Ambassador makes her way through the grasses. Ambassador. By now, surely the King and the rest of his pride have discovered the joke of her title. Afterall, the lioness has done little to enforce it. In fact, she's done a d**n good job at disappearing. Some habits never die. Though with the light of the morning, Chaosti has comes to many terms with her existence within this pride. The foremost being that this is NOT the Jinjin'tau. And that in and of itself has stirred the scarred lioness from her hiding place. And it is with a deliberate stride that she pushes through the roughage, both eyes open, though it is the cold blue orb that surveys the land. And in this observance, it doesn't take long for her to notice the scrawny Tyne Prince making his own way through the grassland. Not who she was looking for, but he serves a purpose nonetheless. And so, Chaosti alters her course towards him.
Mizuka and the rest of Kivuli, Amahl thinks, are wiser perhaps than some of their visitors have given them credit for. Certainly they've done something to warrant the rulers of Jinjin'tau sending one of their own daughters out here...although some of her retainers seem bizarrely incapable of doing their jobs. He can't be the only one who's noticed, either. But as an outsider with almost no stake in what's going on here, he's able to find this whole thing to be simply...fascinating. Both of these prides do things so differently than he would! The Kivuli are closed off and the Jinjin'tau are...conspicuously absent. He frowns, stopping to nose at the ground; Sammar's trail is fresher here. And then pauses, his ears perking forward, when he hears something rustling in the grasses--it's too heavy to be a stray gazelle or something. He lifts his head, peering off in the direction of the noise.
The grass is patchy, but where it's present it's thick, and it's in one of those tall, scrubby patches that Sammar has laid up for the last four hours or so, for a snooze. The approaching cats go more or less unnoticed by him-- he's sleeping the sleep of an animal who knows he hasn't got much to fear.
The noise is no other than Chasoti, the lioness's holding little concern for stealth at the moment. Afterall, she has no desire to slip up unexpectantly on the small lion, least he keel over in fright. He does seem like the fragile type. And even as she closes in, the scarred lioness offers and soft chuff. She looks upon him full boar, the blue optic gleaming in the morning sunlight, while the blind white of the other merely stares on it it's oblivious manner. " Amahl..." His name rings out almost gloriously by her voice, despite the distracted hint of her further question. " Have you seen Sammar?" A single darkly etched brow shots upwards as she ask. And the manner in which she looks upon him is expectant. Afterall, the poor lion does seem to follow the 'guard' around as if attached by the hip.
An there is another, Anwuli isn't to far from Sammar at the moment. The lioness is stretched out in the grasses partly hidden within the grass and thanks to being at Sammar's side. Her ears twitch as a sudden voice crashes through the lovely bit of quiet time that she was /enjoying/. A grumble escapes the lioness as she rolls onto her other side, eyes opening so her bright gaze drifts one way and then another while she sniffs at the passing breeze.
Just because Amahl is of poor health does not mean he is stupid. The Kivuli have accepted his presence, given that he is a prince of their allies, but he knows that the Jinjin'tau don't hold any love for him. In fact, aside from Sammar, it seems like they haven't noticed him at all. So that one of their number--their reclusive ambassador, no less--is addressing him likely means she wants something. And, indeed, she does. He isn't fooled by a sweet tone of voice; there's no interest in him personally, just an interest in getting something out of him. It's that false friendliness, more than anything else, that causes his tail to swish behind him. "I'm looking for him myself, ambassador." He's close, but he hasn't followed Sammar's trail all the way to him yet--would have already, if Chaosti hadn't approached him. The Tyneian prince gazes back at her steadily. It's been awhile; he's settled in here, and he's spoken to a few people. He seems more confident, and it's not hard to figure out who he's been taking lessons from; he's got a bit of that Kivuli pokerface, although it's not nearly as pronounced as, oh, the local bodyguard's.
His sister shifts and Sammar's own ears twitch back as he groans, pressing his nose into the earth between his paws. It's a quiet sound, and the conversation that begins as he makes it more or less covers it-- which doesn't mean it doesn't make his ears twitch again, andhis head raise, swing blearily from side to side. What? Did he hear his name?
As the distance between them is closed, the scarred lioness comes to a slow halt infront of the Tyne Prince. He is right in thinking the way he does. And Chaosti can't help the pleasantries of her voice. It is just the way she talks. For in the end, the lioness would use him in her objective just as willingly as she would the next. Partly, because she does know him. And next because that is her nature. And the truth of this is discernible in the nonchalant manner in which she responds to his words. For with a single ear flick, her question about Sammar's where abouts are forgotten. Apparently, the question was raised only in an attempt to ease the awkwardness that lies between then. " No matter." she almost grunts, eyeing the small lion in a considering manner. " You will do." It is perhaps a harsh statement of belittlement, but the Royal A,bassador has her reasons for putting it just as that.
does 'not' know him.
Anwuli maw twitches while she shifts once more and pushes herself up onto her haunches, working on getting legs moving and her bones back into the right places after sleeping. "Wonder what she wants." She mumbled towards her brother. A forepaw is lifted and she licks across it a few times while sleep slowly ebs away as she becomes more and more awake.
Amahl merely eyes her in turn; his ears are set back at an angle, but that's all. "I don't know what you're talking about, ambassador." He doesn't have the lioness' honey-coated voice, but he's nothing but polite. "If you need something, perhaps you could ask the king or one of the locals? I'm not that familiar with the land or the pride here." All of a sudden, he glances away, his ears perking forward--Anwuli's voice is carried to him on the dry, weak breeze, and he peers off towards it in time to see the lioness sitting up. He doesn't really recognise her, but then again he doesn't recognise many of either group. His tail whips behind him again, uncertain; it would be impolite to just wander off without excusing himself, but on the other hand it would be impolite to just ignore her. He sends out a chuff as a sort of compromise, the sound of which Sammar, at least, should recognise, before looking back at Chaosti.
"Ummph. I have -no- idea. I was hoping she could ambassador him but..." Sammar's recognised their voices, although names are still escaping him. When Anwuli sits up he follows suit, a larger but only slightly shaggier version of her. "Hullo," he tells them both, gruff, squinting. "Secret meeting?"
Anwuli huffs at her brother. "As if it would be THAT simple." She grumbles out faintly while a yawn escapes her. Her maw twitches and she peers over to Amahl eyeing the young lion slightly. "Is that the kid that has been following you around?" Not that she cares but she never did get the kids name.
/There/ he is. Amahl's face brightens when the male's great, maneless body appears next to Anwuli's. Well, that answers both their questions. Now the ambassador can go do whatever it is she'd wanted Sammar for, and /he/ can--well, they've got a lot to catch up on. "Excuse me a minute," to Chaosti, polite, even though he doubts she'd bother to give him /that/ much were their positions reversed, and then he turns and trots a little closer to the others. "Not at all! I need to talk to you." The boy's smile is a genuine one, and something of it remains as he looks back to Anwuli. She looks a /lot/ like Sammar. Littermates, then? Well, that answers the question of which group she's with. (Although, really, he and /his/ siblings don't resemble one another at all, so he knows well that looks can be deceiving.) "Well, I /did/ follow you lot all the way from Tyne. I'm Amahl." /Prince/ Amahl, not that he mentions it. The whole point of his coming here was for him to try and eke out something that wasn't just handed to him because of his parentage, after all.
"He's Amahl," Sammar explains, like that -is- an explanation. And then, "Hullo. -You- two woke me up. And also Anwuli." Hard to tell if he's implicating -her- in the crime as well. "This is Anwuli," he goes on, and yawns at Amahl: morning breath. "Do you? About what?" Little vertical-type stretch, shutting his narrow eyes for a moment. "And what's Chaosti here for?" not unkind, either of the questions.
Anwuli ahs faintly as she hears Amahl. "I see.. Well then, nice to meet you Amahl." She says with a friendly tone and slight smile before glancing to where Chaosti is and shakes her head before glancing back to Amahl and slips quiet to listion.
Chaosti has disconnected.
"We did? I'm sorry!" Amahl's nose wrinkles as that stale breath hits him; Sammar could use a drink, it smells like. "Nice to meet you," he adds to Anwuli, flashing her another, larger smile in response. "I don't know what she wanted--" He's about to add that Sammar ought to ask her, but he looks over his shoulder to see that the lioness has vanished. All right, then. He arches an eyebrow, staring at the spot where she used to be. "--She asked where you were and then said I'd 'do' for something. I don't know what." He moves to touch noses with the older male, his whiskers fanning. "Anyway, I've been talking with some of the pride here--" he starts, sounding rather excited again.
"-- Oh, probably she wanted to talk to me in private." Which isn't -that- unusual-- although now he -is- curious. "-- Ooh? Been diplomating?" yes it's a verb now. He leans into Anwuli's shoulder a little. "-- What about? Something good?" it -sounds- good. Maybe Ndalia is leaving!
Anwuli smirks as her brother leans against her. "When did I become your personaly rock?" She questions with a joking tone and half nips out at his neck, but doesn't move. "I'm sure what ever Chaosti wanted to talk about can wait.. She did leave after all." Which means its not something important in her mind.
"She seemed to want me for something, too." The boy's nose has wrinkled again. "But whatever it is, I guess it /can/ wait." He and Anwuli seem to be of the same opinion; if she just up and left, it couldn't have been important. He was absolutely right about her, though; she hadn't bothered with so much as an 'excuse me' to /any/ of them. "I've been talking to that knight. Kisehemu? He's been teaching me some things." Like how to deal with certain uncomfortable social situations.
It's only when he's through with his yawn, jaws closing with a click, that Sammar moves to reciprocate that greeting, bumping his nose against Amahl's, his cheek, which he gives a rather odorous lick. When he settles back against Anwuli he leans a little more, deliberate. "Well, at least you're -one of us-, I suppose. She doesn't usually talk to just -anybody-." His eyes slit mostly shut again, like a sleepy bird's. "-- Ooh? -Have- you? Good. He seemed solid, I suppose. Have you found out anything about Ndalia?" suddenly, his eyes opening briefly wide. "-- What have you been learning?"
"Please.. she would talk to a mouse if she thought she could get something from /it/." Anwuli says with a huff before eyeing her brother as she is leaned against more. She gives his ear a good nip before she leans back against him once she has settled back to the ground. As the talk turns to Ndalia her ears perk slightly.
"He's /smart/." Well, smart and apparently he can fight, but Amahl hadn't exactly been asking to spar with him. "We didn't talk about Ndalia much, though. I mean--he told me why you guys are here, but I already knew /that/." He can't imagine what Sammar doesn't know about her that Kisehemu /would/, anyway. Still! "Should I ask about her next time I see him?" He glances to Anwuli as she speaks, and his mouth quivers; he's biting back a smile. He wasn't going to remark on it further, but it looks like his hunch was right. Her own pridemates would know her, after all.
"Well..." half-protesting, but it -is- true, isn't it? "You should," he decides. "I was going to talk to Mizuka about it, but..." trailing off, Sammar wipes a paw over his face. "You ought to," he repeats. "Smart? Pfeh. As long as he can kill things..." a little bit of -bluster-, that.
Anwuli winks at Amahl as she seems to catch some of the smile, even if it is a WEEEEEE bit der. A yawn escapes the lioness as she figures getting back to sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea. "You all talk away, I'm just gona nap here." She offers before starting to doze off once more.
Anwuli has disconnected.
"Well, I don't think he'd be a knight if he /couldn't/!" Amused, a little. "But I'll ask him about her, then. Should I ask about anything in particular? Nice meeting you," he adds to Anwuli as she makes herself comfortable. "Mm. Why haven't you talked to him, then?"
"You do that." More sleep w-ould- be nice... "-- Oh, no! Nothing in particular." Feh. "I suppose not. He seemed solid enough when -I- saw him," he repeats, and settles onto hisstomach again- -from the look he gives Amahl, he expects the other to follow suit.
"All right." The look Amahl gives /him/ is a puzzled one. "Are you going back to sleep? Should I go see if I can find him again?"
"You can stay here if you like." Was what he'd -meant-. "What, you're off to do -more- things? It's hardly even -light- out yet. Stay awhile." He raises his eyebrows.
"Well..." Amahl shifts awkwardly. "If I wait /too/ long to do anything, it's just going to get hot. I've been up since--uhm--well, it was still dark out. But I guess I can--?" He's a little surprised, really. Sammar's never stuck around him terribly long; he's usually (understandably) busy with other things. After a moment, he sinks down onto his haunches, rather uncertainly.
The other cat yawns at him, perhaps a little ostentatiously, showing Amahl that he -ought- to be tired because -Sammar- is tired. He rests his head on his paws, rolling his eyes up to watch the prince. "Maybe wecan both talk to Chaosti some other time."
Amahl doesn't look tired. Then again, it's doubtful that he'd have any problems dozing off, given how much cats sleep. "It'd probably be a good idea to move someplace with more shade..." he murmurs, but Sammar looks pretty settled in. "Mm. I don't know /what/ she wanted," he repeats, and is quiet for a little while, settling carefully onto his stomach. Eventually, seemingly unrelated: "Kisehemu said it's better to keep your thoughts to yourself. That way, they've got nothing to use against you, and if they can't control themselves as well you've got something to use against /them/." And just who are 'they'? One's enemies? Other pridal representatives in general? Amahl is frowning, his eyes gone a bit squinted against the rising sun. "That seems like a manipulative way of thinking, though. I think Chaosti's is too. She didn't say a word to me until she wanted something."
Sammar pulls one paw up under his chest. "Who are -they-?" he wants to know at once, a littles nort of amusement underlining the question. "Don't do things you wouldn't want other people to know about," rolling oto his side, "and it wouldn't be a problem. --Well. She's not very good at social things. But..." he sighs. "Perhaps you can use -your- new manipulationon -her-."
"He didn't say. But I think 'they' are you guys." Amahl cracks one eye open a little further, smiling at him. He's crippled, not blind or stupid. "I don't know what they could have done that they wouldn't want you to know about. He did seem a little distracted, though." He may not be stupid, but he doesn't know any of what's going on with Khamisa. Mizuka hasn't exactly been shouting it from the clifftop and neither has Kisehemu. "Maybe they're just very...private. Or they've got their own problems to deal with that they don't want interfering with everything else." He falls silent again, thinking of the problems that his own pride has been having. All the unpleasantness with the heirs, and Waset sick, though he doesn't know just /how/ sick she's gotten since he left. And, of course, this dry season; Tyne's been feeling it too even though, with all their rivers, the lands weren't hit as badly.
"They -have-," Sammar agrees, and reaches out with one paw to press it against Amahl's frail shoulder before pulling it back in against his chest. "You don't have to stay -all- the way over there, either." And head back on his paws again. "It's -really- all right. And we're not -bad-. Mistrustful, isn't he?" al ittle grouchy, defensive of his pride.
"What do you know about it, then?" Sammar reaches out to him and he hesitates a moment, then eases in a little closer. When he speaks again, he's lowered his voice a little--maybe he assumes that the older male wanted him to move in so they wouldn't keep Anwuli up. "Who said you were /bad/?" he adds, bemused. "This does seem like kind of a fragile situation, though. I mean--it sounds like your two prides have been talking for awhile, but sending you all over here to live? Really? I don't think you trust them, either," he chides gently. "So you can't expect them to trust /you/. /That's/ the problem. You're all sitting around being suspicious of one another, so of /course/ nothing's getting done and nobody likes anybody else!" So says Amahl, PhD. "You're supposed to be part of the same pride now, aren't you? You should all start acting like it." He's not just scolding the Jinjin'tau, it's obvious; the Kivuli have kept themselves separate as well, and don't think he hasn't noticed /that/.
"Oh, things. His sister's sick. But you ought to keep it to yourself." He shoots a brief, fond glance towards his -own- sister before looking back at Amahl. "Well--" he starts, but Amahl keeps going, and the maneless lion's ears lay back but he -has- got a point. But-- he doesn't feel comfortable just yet explaining to Amahl the reason -he's- keepig -his- distance. He just looks away after a moment. "I -did- go and talk to him." He mutters after a moment, and then flashes Amahl a brief and grudging smile.
"/I/ haven't heard anything about it." Amahl is frowning, too, but when Sammar's ears go back he gives the older male a rather wry smile. "See?" he says. "You don't want to be here, do you? Why's that? It seems like none of you want to give the other side a chance." His frown has cleared up; now he's just watching the maneless lion steadily. "If I hadn't given /you/ a chance," he adds quietly, "I wouldn't be here." That would debatably be a good thing right now, given that if he /wasn't/ here, he wouldn't be dispensing advice to his elders who are supposed to be teaching /him/. "Just think about it. You're not bad, but the Kivuli aren't, either." Okay, so he's going to make a lousy politician, believing the best of people. But now that he's gotten comfortable, the prince /is/ beginning to feel a little tired, and after he speaks he lays his chin down on his forepaws, shutting his eyes most of the way. They still remain open just that slightest bit, though, waiting to see if there's any sort of response.
"Mmm." Litlte more than a grunt, but he's considering it, at least-- these cats are just so -not like him-. It's hard. Which he can barely articulate to himself, much less explain to Amahl. He stretches out a little, bridging the gap between Anwuli and Amahl so that one hind paw touches the latter and one forepaw touches the former. Yawns, huge and noisy, before settling himelf. "Maybe I -don't-, but I -am- here, so I'll get used to it." Grudging, slow-- and sleepy. For all that it's grudging, he's relaxed. He's got a -few- people who seem more or less pleasant, and they're both right -here-. Which is a good thought to drift off on.