Post by tukutu on Mar 29, 2007 23:14:17 GMT -5
[Forgotten Lands] Open Savannah
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This stretch of savanna is much like every other stretch of savanna,
in that there is grass populating it.
Every once in awhile a scrubby, thorny, bush eeks out a living here
surrounded by eager grasses, and if the soil is especially decent in
one spot, a tree manages to survive to adulthood.
The flora population seems to grow larger as one heads to the west,
and decreases to the east, both types of landscape meeting and mixing
here in a sort of limbo to match the land's political affiliation.
On the horizon to the South East, an impressively large rock formation looms.
----------------------******************----------------------
Kharkhati – carnal colonel (lion)
Letheba – vehement virgin (lioness)
Night has wrapped her silken cloak around the sky, and her baubles twinkle against it. But those who are wakeful during this dark time do not need that much light to see by, and the dark, celestial maiden's jewelry is enough. Another dark one roams in the pale, scattered light, and her steps fall as silently as the night's own breath. Letheba watches the world through eyes that are more like the sun and glow like planets in the darkness. She closes them as she walks, enjoying the cool earth beneath her paws as she glides through the open sea of savanna grass. Loneliness is for the weak; this is a cat who walks by herself.
Even if Letheba was of weaker heart, she need not worry about being alone; a shadow follows in her footsteps, causing the tall stalks of grass to rustle, blade gliding dryly against blade in a chorus of soft voices - accompanied by the droning cicadas. Kharkhati has recognized the female's scent and abandoned his sleeping companions in search of its musky source. The last time he was fortunate enough to experience the company of a lioness, his brothers-in-arms forced him to share. Not this time. Tonight, the power will be his. Tonight, he will dominate wholly and completely.
The night is not unkind to Letheba. She holds her head regally as she walks, reveling in her own communion with her surroundings - but when the night wind brings Kharkhati's own scent back to her, her demeanor changes. Her fur bristles along her spine and her hackles lrise. Her claws extend and dig into the earth as she spins, lowering her head and folding her ears back. She knows that scent, but has never seen the lion attached to it. Now, Letheba's eyes dart through the grasses, searching for the culprit as she warns him of approaching with any improper intent with a throaty growl. If he has watched her and seen her interact with others among the male vagabonds in the area, he may notice that this warning is slightly different. For whatever reason, the sturdy yet soft lioness seems even more guarded, if not unsure of herself in some subtle regard.
Feisty. Kharkhati's response is a low, hoarse chuckle that rumbles deep in his chest. He stops when Letheba turns, but does not shrink away like a wiser male might. 'Discrete' is not a word that appears anywhere in his personal dictionary. His tongue rolls over his nose and whiskers to wet them, making him more aware of the smells in the air. She's alone. Good. Acting on what his nostrils tells him, the large Barbary curls his lip at the lioness and shows her his fangs - long and yellow. No words are spoken because they are not yet necessary. His body language tells Letheba all that she needs to know; this male is hostile.
What was it will all of these Barbaries, these monstrosities to leonine-kind? Letheba doesn't stand a chance against the much larger male, but is own actions coupled with his presence are most uncomfortable for the younger feline. She takes a couple steps back but retains her defensive posture, her own lips curling back over whiter, healthier teeth. "What do you want, Bar*barian*?" Letheba snarls. She may not want a fight, but she is certainly not going to submit to the demands she assumes he has concocted.
The female's reaction is of some amusement to Kharkhati. In an instant, his intentions are swept aside, not by the flash of her teeth but by her words and the heat of them. As hungry as he is for Letheba, he recognizes that she is a meal to be savored, enjoyed over a period of time instead of just one night. "You know what I want," he growls in a gravelly voice that sounds years older than he looks. "What will you do about it?"
The affirmation of her guess elicits a louder growl and snarl from Letheba. She straightens a bit, squaring her shoulders and lifting her head to a prouder level. "You're all the same, you know?" she scoffs, avoiding the question delicately. "All I am is a good time to the likes of you." Her eyes narrow, and a cold, cruel smile curls onto her lips. "*If* you succeed in getting what you want, I'll make *sure* you do not enjoy one second of it." The last of her words are almost spat out as she sneers across the distance to the older male. Internally, there is a much younger version of her twisting about, both frightened and longing for happier days at the same time.
"There is nothing you can do, sweet one, that will stop me from enjoying your body as it yields beneath mine. Unless you are dead, there is nothing that will stop me from enjoying what I know goes on between your ears when I am near." And yet, Kharkhati does not move an inch. "Can you silence your thoughts, female? Stifle your fear? I can smell it all the way from over here."
A small, almost imperceptible shiver runs through Letheba as she stands there, and she immediately tries to smooth herself and appear calmer than she is. "You're a babbling old fool," she huffs with a roll of her eyes, trying her best not to run in either direction though the muscles in her forelegs grow tenser by the second. "I'm not as naive as I look..." but she falters on calling him what her brain says is natural, and her eyes grow soft for the briefest of moments.
"Maybe not," Kharkhati admits. "But you -are- as firm and lean as you look." She's brave; he'll give her that, though it isn't likely to stop him. "You could stand to put on a little weight." He turns and, with a flick of his gray-streaked tail, departs in the same direction from which he came - almost as though his interest in Letheba had suddenly evaporated into the cool night air. However, nothing could be further than the truth; he'll remember her scent, her face.
But there is no bitter taste of rejection left with Letheba. She stares steadily as Kharkhati stalks away so nonchalantly, knowing she hasn't seen the last of him. He is trying to play it cool, trying to be suave and prove he has some power, some control that is really an illusion. She is her own being - a lone cat in this vast, unclaimed territory. Like him, she will remember this meeting and the face of the other involved, filed away with his scent in her memory. When she finally turns, her previous serenity is shattered, replaced with troubled thoughts of an old life that was destroyed just as abruptly. The lioness who walks by herself and has never been possessed by another of her kind continues on her wild lone.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------******************----------------------
This stretch of savanna is much like every other stretch of savanna,
in that there is grass populating it.
Every once in awhile a scrubby, thorny, bush eeks out a living here
surrounded by eager grasses, and if the soil is especially decent in
one spot, a tree manages to survive to adulthood.
The flora population seems to grow larger as one heads to the west,
and decreases to the east, both types of landscape meeting and mixing
here in a sort of limbo to match the land's political affiliation.
On the horizon to the South East, an impressively large rock formation looms.
----------------------******************----------------------
Kharkhati – carnal colonel (lion)
Letheba – vehement virgin (lioness)
Night has wrapped her silken cloak around the sky, and her baubles twinkle against it. But those who are wakeful during this dark time do not need that much light to see by, and the dark, celestial maiden's jewelry is enough. Another dark one roams in the pale, scattered light, and her steps fall as silently as the night's own breath. Letheba watches the world through eyes that are more like the sun and glow like planets in the darkness. She closes them as she walks, enjoying the cool earth beneath her paws as she glides through the open sea of savanna grass. Loneliness is for the weak; this is a cat who walks by herself.
Even if Letheba was of weaker heart, she need not worry about being alone; a shadow follows in her footsteps, causing the tall stalks of grass to rustle, blade gliding dryly against blade in a chorus of soft voices - accompanied by the droning cicadas. Kharkhati has recognized the female's scent and abandoned his sleeping companions in search of its musky source. The last time he was fortunate enough to experience the company of a lioness, his brothers-in-arms forced him to share. Not this time. Tonight, the power will be his. Tonight, he will dominate wholly and completely.
The night is not unkind to Letheba. She holds her head regally as she walks, reveling in her own communion with her surroundings - but when the night wind brings Kharkhati's own scent back to her, her demeanor changes. Her fur bristles along her spine and her hackles lrise. Her claws extend and dig into the earth as she spins, lowering her head and folding her ears back. She knows that scent, but has never seen the lion attached to it. Now, Letheba's eyes dart through the grasses, searching for the culprit as she warns him of approaching with any improper intent with a throaty growl. If he has watched her and seen her interact with others among the male vagabonds in the area, he may notice that this warning is slightly different. For whatever reason, the sturdy yet soft lioness seems even more guarded, if not unsure of herself in some subtle regard.
Feisty. Kharkhati's response is a low, hoarse chuckle that rumbles deep in his chest. He stops when Letheba turns, but does not shrink away like a wiser male might. 'Discrete' is not a word that appears anywhere in his personal dictionary. His tongue rolls over his nose and whiskers to wet them, making him more aware of the smells in the air. She's alone. Good. Acting on what his nostrils tells him, the large Barbary curls his lip at the lioness and shows her his fangs - long and yellow. No words are spoken because they are not yet necessary. His body language tells Letheba all that she needs to know; this male is hostile.
What was it will all of these Barbaries, these monstrosities to leonine-kind? Letheba doesn't stand a chance against the much larger male, but is own actions coupled with his presence are most uncomfortable for the younger feline. She takes a couple steps back but retains her defensive posture, her own lips curling back over whiter, healthier teeth. "What do you want, Bar*barian*?" Letheba snarls. She may not want a fight, but she is certainly not going to submit to the demands she assumes he has concocted.
The female's reaction is of some amusement to Kharkhati. In an instant, his intentions are swept aside, not by the flash of her teeth but by her words and the heat of them. As hungry as he is for Letheba, he recognizes that she is a meal to be savored, enjoyed over a period of time instead of just one night. "You know what I want," he growls in a gravelly voice that sounds years older than he looks. "What will you do about it?"
The affirmation of her guess elicits a louder growl and snarl from Letheba. She straightens a bit, squaring her shoulders and lifting her head to a prouder level. "You're all the same, you know?" she scoffs, avoiding the question delicately. "All I am is a good time to the likes of you." Her eyes narrow, and a cold, cruel smile curls onto her lips. "*If* you succeed in getting what you want, I'll make *sure* you do not enjoy one second of it." The last of her words are almost spat out as she sneers across the distance to the older male. Internally, there is a much younger version of her twisting about, both frightened and longing for happier days at the same time.
"There is nothing you can do, sweet one, that will stop me from enjoying your body as it yields beneath mine. Unless you are dead, there is nothing that will stop me from enjoying what I know goes on between your ears when I am near." And yet, Kharkhati does not move an inch. "Can you silence your thoughts, female? Stifle your fear? I can smell it all the way from over here."
A small, almost imperceptible shiver runs through Letheba as she stands there, and she immediately tries to smooth herself and appear calmer than she is. "You're a babbling old fool," she huffs with a roll of her eyes, trying her best not to run in either direction though the muscles in her forelegs grow tenser by the second. "I'm not as naive as I look..." but she falters on calling him what her brain says is natural, and her eyes grow soft for the briefest of moments.
"Maybe not," Kharkhati admits. "But you -are- as firm and lean as you look." She's brave; he'll give her that, though it isn't likely to stop him. "You could stand to put on a little weight." He turns and, with a flick of his gray-streaked tail, departs in the same direction from which he came - almost as though his interest in Letheba had suddenly evaporated into the cool night air. However, nothing could be further than the truth; he'll remember her scent, her face.
But there is no bitter taste of rejection left with Letheba. She stares steadily as Kharkhati stalks away so nonchalantly, knowing she hasn't seen the last of him. He is trying to play it cool, trying to be suave and prove he has some power, some control that is really an illusion. She is her own being - a lone cat in this vast, unclaimed territory. Like him, she will remember this meeting and the face of the other involved, filed away with his scent in her memory. When she finally turns, her previous serenity is shattered, replaced with troubled thoughts of an old life that was destroyed just as abruptly. The lioness who walks by herself and has never been possessed by another of her kind continues on her wild lone.
