The Wounded Earth [OPEN]

[Lindiwe]

Subject: The Wounded Earth [OPEN]
Time: Dusk cresting into evening.
Weather: A slight breeze, but elsewise, your usual oppressive dry season weather, minus a few degrees due to the setting of the sun.
Participants: Lindiwe, Ayzize

[Lindiwe]

We lay face in pale solitude.

It had not been the shortest of treks, this journey to the gorge's edge. Her intention had been to once again visit the fallen rocks, to take solace in the dust of her kin, but something had led her astray. Something had led her here. She had only been to the gorge two or three times in her days, and she bore no connection to it. It had never excited her, nor stirred up loathing within the pit of her stomach. No, she was rather emotionless when it came to the gorge. It was strange, really. The violence inherent here was as strong as at the fallen rocks. The gorge was, after all, a rending of the earth, a betrayal of some storm's power, just as the remnants of Pride Rock were. Yet though this gorge had impassively claimed lives in its earlier days, those lives were of no consequence to Lindiwe. They were not her kin. She knew little of those stories.

Now, as she neared the gorge's edge, she found herself curious. Not about the gorge, per se, but about her own curiosity. It was strange, really... to be curious about one's own curiosity. Padding to a halt, she peered down into its depths. Dusk made it more difficult to see than she would have liked, but still her eyes sought out the deepest shadows. She studied them at length, as if the livid green of her eyes could puncture the darkness, wounding it and causing it to spill its secrets in the same manner that fallen prey might spill its entrails. No, the shadows were not cooperative. They would not tell their secrets. She sighed, and settled back onto her lean haunches. Perhaps the journey here had been in vain, but since she was here, she might as well make use of the solitude.

Casting her gaze from the gorge below, she watched as the stars above began to make an appearance. A glimmer here, a spark there. She had heard stories about these stars, but only pieces. The legend was not her mother's, but the tale of those before her, but still Lindiwe rolled it around in her mind, feeling it out. It didn't seem true. She felt closer to her kin through the grit of the dust beneath her feet than she ever had when regarding the glimmering sky above. Nevertheless, they held a beauty that captured her attention for the moment, and allowed her mind to wander...

To save face, we pulled our walls in front of you.
To the same place where we danced in front of you.
We fell from grace and watched the hope fall from your face.

[Ayzize]

Of course he is going to go places where he has been told not to, that should be expected from him by now, but the ease with which he actually got away with it this time surprises even Ayzize. He, along with the rest of the cubs, have been told that the leaning stand of rocks is not a place they should wander, particularly by themselves because of the danger blah, blah, blah... and that is usually the point at which the boy cub stops listening and starts planning. As evening approached, the older lionesses began to stir from their mid-afternoon naps and were eventually going to take a roll call before they headed off for the hunt. 'Zize tactfully avoided the whole affair this evening by slipping away early, before most of the lionesses were awake enough to notice. There is an enormous grin on the cub's muzzle as he trots victoriously through the grass, north.

The rocks, however, were quite boring. They might be better explored during the day, when he can see where he is putting his paws and maybe terrorize a lizard or two. Mental note: return during the day. Since he got away so easily this time, without having to try and outrun or outwit one of the cubsitters, the last thing the young male wanted to do was head back for a stern lecture without the knowledge that he actually found or did something interesting. So, with a renewed enthusiasm he set off past the eerily dangerous rock toward another forbidden-to-go-alone place, the gorge. His paw steps are quick, not to mention loud, as he races through the long grass in the fading light of the setting sun. As the grass thins and he bursts out into the open landscape, though, 'Zize freezes with wide open, amber-gray eyes landing on one of the very lionesses he had thought to have escaped from.

There is a long and agonizing silence from the cub, squinting as he tries to figure out who it is in the dim, breath aching in his chest from holding it in his initial shock and surprise. He still cannot quite place her, though, for her back is turned and she looks oblivious to the things around her, except the shimmering of the stars high, high above them both. The arrogant little prince takes a deep breath and begins to back off the way he came, glancing quickly across his shoulder; oh, no... the cover is so far from here. Ayzize freezes again in his panic, attention snapping back to the lioness before him.

Dang it.

[Lindiwe]

OOC note: Proboard's spell check is telling me that neither distillatory nor distillative are correctly-spelled words, yet a trundle around dictionary.com reveals that they are, indeed, words. So... phooey on Proboard's spell check, and sorry 'bout that.

Though her eyes were riveted upon the stars above, Lindiwe's attention was not focused on that otherworldly distance. No, her thoughts traveled to another world, a closer world. The realm of thought. Memories stroked her mind, feeding her hunger. The warmth of her mother's body when Lindiwe would snuggle up against her side, the comforting rumbling of multiple heartbeats as she and her sister would curl up together. Bereft of tales regarding this locale, she was left to remember merely these physical memories, rather than tales of intrigue. Perhaps it was that very fact that allowed her to hear the parting of the grass, when she otherwise might not have.

An ear flicked back, seeking the sounds she had not consciously noticed. Lindiwe was a lioness, though, and her senses would not fail her even where her mind might. She paused, as if unsure what it was that had drawn her from her reverie. Lowering her gaze, she once again scanned the shadows below. No, it was nothing there. Her peripheral vision was not the culprit. Odd, she noted, still uncertain. But then she heard it. Not a rustling of the grass this time, but a scuffling of the dirt as young Ayzize bursts from his cover. The folly of youth views time as slowly passing behemoth, dragging out the moments, but it is merely seconds before Lindiwe glances over her shoulder.

Hm. A cub.

So much for solitude.

She regarded him in silence, this time fully aware of the agony it must be for him. She was young once, too, and remembers it well. Too well, perhaps. A few seconds longer would sharpen him. Eventually, she stood, and turned to face him in the twilight. She had shaken her responsibilities in order to venture north, and yet one of them had found her. She couldn't just leave him here. After all, she was a pridesister, and that fact alone meant that she now needed to assure his safe passage back to his mother. But did that mean that she couldn't have a little fun first? Albeit, Lindiwe's version of fun might be a little different than his, but that didn't bother her in the least. Skulking forward, she took her time to draw near to the panicked cub.

"Child." The word was spoken more in statement than in greeting, the syllable clipped short by her teeth. A mere couple of feet from him now, she lowered her head. Drawing level with his gaze, she regarded his eyes intently. Apparently failing to see in them what she was looking for, her eyes narrowed as her words formed a cold question. "Why have you come here, to the wounded earth?"

She doubted that his answer would hold any substance, yet still she had asked. Her curiosity, even when disturbed, could not help but gruffly seek to know this young one's constitution.

After all, panic could be distillative.

[Ayzize]

Narrowed eyes, eyes trying to discern which lioness he stumbled on, pop wide in surprise as she turns and sees him. The insides of his ears blanch white, though in the dim it is difficult, if nigh impossible to see, and his spine visibly shrinks as the lioness turns and approaches him. It takes everything that the prince has not to turn around and run back into the grass under that penetrating stare. He swallows a lump in his throat. It's Lindiwe. He doesn't know her that well, really at all, just that... she's different from most of the other pride sisters, but whatever it is it is not something that he can figure out. Ayzize flattens his ears quickly, pinning them to the back of his skull. He is not a child. He's bigger, stronger, faster than all the rest, so he has convinced himself, and the moniker of a child is hardly fitting. But that is not something that he fights with Lindiwe about, and as she bends her head to view him at his own level, he straightens himself and lifts his bulky head up on his shoulders to his full height. He hardly matches the female, not even remotely close, but as cubs go he's no small bundle of fluff anymore.

His maw parts, drawing in a sharp breath as he begins to formulate a response, but teeth click quickly together as he falters. Wounded... earth? He can't smell blood. There is no kill nearby. How can something as solid as the ground possibly be wounded, or even know what it was like to be in pain? The thoughts draw a look of consternation across young features, darkly lined lips twisting up and then down, lines creasing the edges of his eyes as any sort of coherent answer eludes him. He shakes his head, more to himself than to the lioness or her question of him, and finds himself taking an unbidden and wary step away. 'Zize glances at her sideline, misty eyes meeting hers dead on as if trying to figure out what lies behind them... but he doesn't get an answer, and instead tries to mingle words into the air between them.

A quick answer, 'Why not?' comes to mind, but it is not released. Ayzize's tail lashes quickly. 'Because there was nothing better to do?' doesn't seem appropriate to... her kind of question. How to answer and stay, relatively, out of trouble is his ultimate goal. 'Because it's forbidden.' No.

"Never seen it," he grumbles, managing to pry his attention away from that coldly intense stare. Likely, it was not an answer he wanted to give but it was better than all his others, but more likely still it was not an answer she would be satisfied with. 'Zize doesn't understand Lindiwe, and his subsequent squirming after the fact makes it apparent that she frightens him, to some degree.

[Lindiwe]

If Lindiwe had been the sort to whom laughter came easily, Ayzize's hubris would have elicited such a response from his elder. As it was, her gaze held steady with his as he puffed up. So the boy had pride. Pride could be beneficial, but maintain it in excess and it could get you killed. Unruffled, she watched the youth as he mind attempted to contrive an answer. The mind is a blade, to be sharpened or dulled, and in her opinion, adventure left unchallenged led to a blade unable to sever even the slightest blade of grass.

The challenge has been met, but with unconscious invitation. He'd never seen it, eh? The slightest hint of a smirk worked its way onto her maw as she sidestepped, circling around the boy. "See for yourself," she countered, lowering her head in an attempt to nudge him forward. "Yes, see for yourself, the wounded earth, taste the scent of generations past." She paused, allowing him the time to mull over her words and even, if he so chose, to follow her advice.

"Be warned, child. Foolhardy blood has been spilt here. Even the blood of royalty. Watch. Listen. Wounds seep, they spill their tales. Those wise enough to listen live the longer for it." For Lindiwe, such words are the equivalent of a soliloquy. She is not one known for great speeches. For that matter, neither is she known for her clarity. Be that as it may, she has said her piece, and that is her responsibility. The remembering ... that is his. Stepping forward, she gazed once more at the gorge below. Night is falling fast, and the depth of specific shadows has begun to give way to the overwhelming blackness that calls this place home when the moon greets the land. Glancing over at Ayzize appraisingly, her expression softened almost imperceptibly into what might be called a faint smile. Where was his bravado now?

[Ayzize]

As Lindiwe circles around him, Ikenna's son grows visibly nervous. He doesn't understand the lioness, not in the way that she wants him to understand, at least... and that makes his display of bravery falter. Large ears balloon out to the sides of his head as he tries to follow her movement behind him, and he tenses visibly as he's unexpectedly nudged. As quickly as he can, losing most of his showmanship in the process, Ayzize scrambles forward closer to the gorge edge and as away from Lindiwe as he can get. There is something, a strange and painful feeling in his chest... it could very likely be fear, that is eating away at him. There is a glimmer behind his eyes, but when he looks back at the lioness his face is turned down in a light scowl. Brows knit at her words, words of spilled blood... again. The boy cub turns his face to the blackness of the ripped earth at his toe tips, nostrils flaring as he tries, unsuccessfully, to scent the blood of a kill.

Nothing.

His frown returns, deeply creasing the lines of his face and tightening the edges of his eyes, though this time that look is directed inward, at himself, rather than Lindiwe. He must be a failure, or at the very least, his senses are failing him now. He can't smell it. Nothing but dirt and hot, dusty air. Even with nightfall fast approaching, the boy can only smell the fading heat from the earth. And then there is a chill down his spine as a quick gust rushes up from the depths of the shadows and envelopes his body, and then is gone as suddenly as it appeared. Ayzize stands frozen for a moment, the fur bristling at the back of his neck in a mixture of fear, adrenaline and... and... something else. It is a while before his paws bring him even closer to the edge of the rift, and he settles back on his haunches and then slowly guides his body until he is flat on his belly, muzzle edge peering over the gorge.

The prince wrinkles his nose, still trying to find something worth smelling down there, and Lindiwe's last words tempt him from his task as he looks at her across his tiny shoulders. Another frown, and he curls his features forward to address her fully, voice brash, loud, and sudden in the still of the approaching darkness.

"So, who's down there, then?" A valid question, carefully framed in his mind. After all, "who" is much less frightening than "what," and much easier to face in the mind of youth.

[Lindiwe]

OOC: Again, apologies for the absence. Funeral. Family. Farm. Gotta love it. Here now.



] What a day that I've left behind; you forgave, said, "I've done my time,"
] I've been good, animation rhyme. Oh, sisterhood, can I find that line?

] Not anymore, I don't feel it; I'm not hopeless, tragic
] No, nothing, no more to say; I've got freedom, no more calling.


Who's down there? A valid question, indeed; not to mention, it was one for which she did not have a definitive answer. She had heard tales, of course. Tales of foolish cubs and fallen royalty, of daring youth and wounded beasts. But names? No, she knew of no names. Only blood. Only dust. After contemplating the question for a moment, she offered an answer that is likely as unfulfilling as it is blunt. "The dead," she stated calmly. "The dead are down there."

Having stated what is, to her, merely fact, she backed away from the cliff's edge, her paws scuffing the dirt softly as she turned away. The dust lightly clouded up around her feet, adding another pale layer to the already gray coloration of her feet. She would carry the dead with her always; if not in her heart, then upon her feet. Casting her gaze across the vast grasslands before her, she studied the darkness. The slight breeze that had picked up earlier in the evening continued in its vain attempt to cool the land, but the vegetation itself seemed to resist the idea. Blades of grass moved stiffly under its touch, unbending to the attempted caress. The resultant rustling required a moment of her attention, but the swiveling of her ears was nearly careless. Despite her talk of the dead, danger did not seem so inherent at this moment in time. In her younger days, she might have spooked at the swirling and twitching of the grasses, but not now. Certainly not now.

She glanced back at Ayzize, as if once again remembering his presence. "Were you merely hoping to plummet to the depths below tonight, young prince?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised sardonically. "Or did you have another destination in mind?" Though slightly mocking, her question bore with it a certain level of earnestness. She had no inclination to return just yet, but nevertheless she found herself strapped with the responsibility of keeping the juvenile from doing just the thing that she spoke of. Admittedly, it would have been a little difficult to explain to one of the queens that her son had wandered off to meet his death while she, Lindiwe, calmly wandered nearby. No, that would not do.


] My end of the line; you don't hear it crashing, silent
] You're all gone, gone and left me behind.
] Is this freedom? No one's calling.

[Ayzize]

"The... dead?"

The prince's face contorts into a tiny mask of disbelief, but behind it the dangerous sparkle of childish mischief. Maybe the dead like to play pranks, too? Or maybe the dead like seeing the faces of his siblings shriek and cower in fear at their presence? Either way, it should prove to be a fascinating series of events if he, and some of the others, can get back here without running into one of the adults, particularly Lindiwe.

Something tempts his eyes deeper into the darkness, and though he remains precariously on the edge he tries to scootch his body even closer, and where it not for the danger that he is slowly inching toward it might just be funny. His maw parts as he sucks in an excitedly shaky breath, and as Lindiwe looks off into the distance at... at... at something or other, the boy reaches out an oversized paw, stretching his claws to their fullest in order to latch onto a scraggly branch of a hardy little shrub that has nestled deep in the rocks many fracture lines.

Whatever his purpose, he nearly meets 'the dead,' whoever they are, when the lioness' voice suddenly fractures his concentration and he stumbles, lurching forward and his fore paw hits the rock face with a resounding thud followed by a fierce scrabbling of claws against stone. It is not a pleasant sound, one that is quickly followed by a grunt and a series of heart fluttering pants as the cub skitters away from the gorge edge and back on to solid, unwavering ground. His tongue flashes from his maw and soothes the quivers of fear that shake his whiskers, and then Lindiwe is there with her question.

"Uh-mmh," he sighs, warily turning from the rift and turning his nose south. Grudgingly, he answers, "The rocks," and then after a moment, "But it's too dark." Glum, and feeling that the female will likely drag him home before his mother, 'Zize forcefully slams his haunches to the ground as he sits.

The dead. Ayzize finds himself leering over his shoulder, just daring the dead to laugh at him. He'll show that gorge.