=--------------------------------------------------------------------------= ___ _ _ ___ ' | ` |__| |__` 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. =--------------------------------------------------------------------------= [ July 13, 2005 ] _( the pride lands )___________________________________________________________ Middle Savannah Coming around to the northwest side of the rock, you can see the promontory sticking out slightly from around the tall peak. The sun casts different shadows against the rocks and crevices on it, making it appear to be many different shades of gray. Short, green grass is all over the ground, quite nice for any grazer who might want to feed here, or for any other creature who might wish to lay down and rest. Small mammals can sometimes be seen running around, but prefer to keep to the taller, golden grasses of the savanna. The gorge lies to the far south, and can hardly be picked out from the sea of green grass. The evening sky is overcast, with windy winds out of the north. It is currently raining. The half moon is visible in the overcast night sky. Northern Savannah [E] Toward the Gorge and Behind Pride Rock [S] Northwest [NW] You can see... [IC ] Jasisi Kwafeli Servals are lanky long past adolescence, even disproportionate: tall ears setting off a small head, long neck and slim body, with startlingly thin, lengthy legs, and a short tail to finish. Kwafeli takes this fact of species to an extreme. He is small for his kind, and lean enough to suggest that he was ill-nourished during some part of his youth; even his fur is less than sleek, thinned and whorled in small patches on his shoulders and flanks. His fur's base color is a deep copper, shading to sand and then to almost white on his loose-furred underside. Mottled over this is a pattern of black spots: regular on his flanks and legs, gathering into fractured stripes along his spine, then curling into bars on his black-tipped tail. Small black spots mottle his face, framing the thin lines of white above his black and amber eyes. Jasisi The overall shape and size of this feline is that of a serval: She stands just under two feet tall at the shoulder, weighing about 30 pounds; she is long-limbed, short-tailed and large-eared, as are all of her kind. There is something distinctly different (and immediately noticeable) about this serval, however. That being her coloration. Where you would find a tawny coat and characteristic black spots on your average serval, here, you find only sooty darkness. Jasisi is a melanistic variety of serval, and her smooth coat is dark brown, almost black. Indeed, it looks jet black at most times, though in the right light, her spots can be made out, darker against her dark fur. Paler yellowish white spots, the only other color present on her body, adorn the backs of her oversized ears. Her eyes are red-gold in color, generally kept low-lidded against the sun. Kwafeli is getting thoroughly tired of what seems to be constant rain. He has found himself one of the few bushes in this area, small and thin branched though it is, and is lying down underneath, in truth only partially sheltered. His long forelegs are stretched out in front of him, and he watches glumly as they, and of course his travel-worn paws, darken with spots of rain as well as his fur's actual patterning. A dark shape comes slinking along the grass, head down, ears splayed, jaws parted and tongue lolling in a pant. She pauses to scan the grasses, ears flicking upward to quiver lightly, searching for any sound amongst the short grasses. When she hears nothing but the falling of this incessant rain, she sighs and walks to a small puddle gathered in the grass to crouch and lap delicately at the water. The rain does well to mask the other serval's scent, causing her to remain oblivious to his presence. Though her dark hide makes it difficult to make out much detail, she does look quite thin. Kwafeli presses his front paws slightly into the ground and pushes himself upwards, shaking the bush in the process, a minor blundering sound which might or might not be audible through the hiss and pattering of the rain. Awkwardly placed, he considers abandoning his not-very-effective shelter to trail through the rain and find--what? Even a decent-sized tree ends up dripping rain down, he has found, and he would be wet to begin with. Heaving a sigh at the thought, he drops back down to his belly. At least the rain isn't getting on his hindquarters. Jasisi flicks an ear in the other serval's direction, instinctually aware of his presence before her conscious mind is. She lifts her head to peer over toward him, eyes widening as she recognizes the shape of another serval. Tired, hungry and weary as she is, she doesn't immediately run, freezing instead, crouched low. Kwafeli catches sight of movement, his head turning towards what he sees shadow moving on shadow: it's late enough in the evening, even were the sky other than clouded-dark, that his vision is down to shades and shapes, obscuring details in grey but somehow sharpening perception of changes in the pattern. He can tell some creature is shifting in the grass, not to far from him, but knowing more than that takes him a determined stare, his eyes wide and gleaming yellow in the light of the young moon. Jasisi lifts her head, ears perked forward, red-gold eyes wide in the growing twilight. Her gaze is caught by the other serval, and she just stares, unwilling to run. This time..maybe she'll just stand her ground and fight. Get it over with... she lays her ears back. A breathy sound of query slips from Kwafeli as he parts his mouth a fraction to take in scent, at much the same moment that he puts together what he's seeing: a thin Serval, black against the grass--her darkness surely a trick of the light, or rather the lack of it--who is clearly feeling strongly. There is a faintly aggressive set to the way she is standing, and a more distinct signal in her angled-back ears; Kwafeli can tell that much of her attitude, although he is at a loss to understand it. He is barely moving, let alone showing a sign of threat, and surely he hasn't been trespassing: he had caught no scent-trace of other Servals on this ground. Jasisi remains crouched, more defensive than offensive. She doesn't move yet, waiting to see what the other serval does. Her tail lashes a few times behind her, whiskers slicked back against her cheeks. The male Serval's tail is moving as well, if not as obviously, only the last few inches flicking back and forth, one outward sign of Kwafeli's indecision. His first thought is to ask whether he is trespassing, or even to apologise for doing so unwittingly, but he draws himself a little taller, so far as he can while still lying down, determining instead to say, in an even tone, "You've no cause to stare." The female jumps at the sound of his voice, knocked from her apparent trance. She blinks a few times, ears flicking forward. She doesn't respond, but she looks a little ashamed, the ears laying back once more, gaze downcast. Her defensive crouch, ready to spring, turns into just a crouch, and a rather slouched one at that. Kwafeli shifts himself slightly to one side, although he is strongly intending not to move himself, as much to stay out of the rain (to the extent which he has been able to) as to avoid spooking the other Serval even further by pushing himself into her space. He takes a long moment to look at her while her gaze is turned downwards, and remains surprised by how she is holding herself. While he can see that she is dark, he can't tell how significantly so, in this rain-blurred night, and reacts to her as he would to a Serval of normal coloration: he responds to her presence and motions, not her shade. "This rain's enough to make anyone jumpy," he says, offering her a ready excuse for her behaviour thus far. Jasisi blinks, her ears flicking forward again. She tilts her head, appearing rather incredulous. She lifts her head, abandoning her defensive posture, tail curling as she seems to relax a bit. Her head tilts back, gaze sweeping the darkened sky. "It is a pleasant respite from the heat," she replies, her voice soft, as though afraid to break her silence. Kwafeli finds that reply from the other Serval at quite a sharp angle from his own feelings about the weather. Not wishing to get into even a quiet disagreement on the matter, now that they have begun with words instead of posturing, he changes the topic entirely, offering, "My name is Kwafeli." It strikes him as formal, if not forward, to provide his lineage on a first introduction. Jasisi bobs her head in a nod. She rises slowly to her feet, as though the movement were difficult. Once standing, she bows her head, "I am Jasisi." Kwafeli tilts his head back just slightly, at a physical disadvantage now that the other Serval is standing, yet not wanting to be obvious about moving to look at her; as it is, he soon glances away, even less inclined to stare after the fixed way she had looked at him, early on in this encounter. "Pleased to meet you," he says, with a tipped smile. He abruptly feels selfconscious. Jasisi is at least mildly perceptive, and she picks up easily enough on his discomfort. She smiles faintly, somewhat shyly, and turns to the side, dipping her head to lick at her left foreleg, thus giving him a chance to get a better look at her without it seeming too obvious. Her tail curls slightly, her fur slicked down tightly against her thin body by the rain. It's too dark, the lighting too bad, to make out her spots on the black fur. Kwafeli makes a small noise, the faint mew like the echo of a young cub's yearning to understand. Frankly embarrassed by how much he finds himself wanting to look at this other Serval, the dark, slim shape of her and the sheer fact of seeing another of his kind, no matter the details of her appearance (hidden from him by the dark) nor their tense initial meeting, he is grateful for the chance to simply watch her as she grooms. Looking away, with an effort, before he breaks their silence, he says at last, "there's dry patches under the bushes, if no-where else." Jasisi lifts her head, ears perked toward his words. She looks over toward the aforementioned bushes, appearing rather hopeful at that. "Cool as the rain is...being wet is rather irritating..." she gives herself a hearty shake, tail flicking. She takes a shaky step toward him, pausing briefly to make sure he isn't just trying to get her to let down her guard. "I haven't been enjoying it," Kwafeli admits, "and maybe half of me is dry under here." He trails off to frown, perhaps a touch theatrically, at one of his still-wet front legs: they are sticking out past the bushes' sheltering, and for whatever reason he isn't tucked completely into that patch of dry. His apparent pre-occupation with the rain's effect on his paws gives Jasisi a chance to come nearer at her own pace. And that she does, slowly moving forward, each step carefully measured. "Perhaps there is a better place to gain shelter..." she murmurs, peering down at the bushes as she comes up nearly side-by-side with the male. Kwafeli looks up at Jasisi, blinking away the drop of rain that lands just above his eyes. "Probably," he says, trying to sound casual, "but going out into the rain to find it--" stopping his words abruptly, he shakes himself, obviously not enamoured of that idea. If he stays where is currently is for long enough, the rain will stop and he'll get to be dry. Surely. Jasisi tilts her head to peer sidelong at the male, head held just slightly lower than his. "The rain has been falling for a long time. I fear by now that it may never stop." She sighs, looking at the bushes. "I suppose this will have to do for now..." Kwafeli's immediate response is a low chuckle, though he rolls his shoulders right after, unable to remain completely comfortable near Jasisi. He feels out of practice in easy conversation, and conscious that she is taking her impressions of him from this meeting. Jasisi sits down beside him, leaving about a foot or two between them for "cushion". She tilts her head, ears splayed, whiskers drooping, "Have I done something wrong?" she whispers, looking positively miserable. Kwafeli shifts around to look at Jasisi, all but squinting at her in concentration. Thoroughly puzzled, he says slowly, "No, of course not," then, with honesty, "it was awkward meeting, but." Rather than finishing his sentence, he shrugs again, at a loss. His tail swings behind him, the tip flipping against the ground with a muted noise that mingles with the plop of the rain on the grass. Jasisi lifts her gaze to his, smiling faintly, ears still splayed a bit. She nods, then steps toward the bush, tail slack. Not paying as much attention to her movements, he can see she's limping, but doing her best to cover it up. Jasisi sighs softly, "I'm sorry...It's...it's been a hard few weeks." she murmurs. "I'm sorry to hear that," Kwafeli says, slow enough to sound reluctant to speak. He isn't sure how to respond gracefully to her admission, and looks away from her, out to the night-darkened grassland, to prevent himself from rudely taking too long looking at Jasisi, night-dark herself. He is curious about her limping, as well as abstractly pitying, though he isn't so gauche as to be the one to bring up the topic. Jasisi pads up to the bush, bowing slightly, head lowering to peer under the bush. Her tail flicks once or twice as she inspects the shelter, "Is it big enough?" "For both of us?" Kwafeli asks, then shows a twist of a smile at his far too-obvious question. Of course that's what she meant. He twists himself around to look the bush over with deliberate slowness, a chance to regain his composure. "I'm not all the way under it," he says, without looking to Jasisi, "with the trunk where it is. If there's more space on the other side," he says, with a hopeful tone as he meets Jasisi's gaze briefly. Jasisi shakes herself off, lifting her head to peer up at the male. She takes a moment to study him as he's inspecting the bushes, grateful for another serval who didn't immediately shun her, attack her, or chase her away. She smiles faintly, her tail curling up, haunches dropping down on level with her shoulders, into a bit of a crouch. "If that's all right..." she nearly whispers. "It's fine," Kwafeli answers her, with a firm nod as punctuation to his words. In case even this is not enough to reassure Jasisi, who he can't help but notice seems uncertain, the male moves himself a token amount, lifting himself enough to make an expansive gesture with one paw at the space under the branches. "Be nice to be partway dry, at least," he says then. Jasisi bobs her head in a nod, long, slender body arching as she slinks beneath the bush. "My head at least...rain falling on my head is very irritating.." Her tail flicks rapidly behind her as she slinks under the bush, her head hidden by now beneath the foliage, haunches raised just slightly. This close, should he happen to be looking at her, he would be able to make out quite a few partially healed cuts and scratches along her legs and haunches. Kwafeli's gaze flicks over Jasisi in quick yet thorough assessment. He manages not to greatly change his expression in response to the sight of her wounds, and of course the night will help in concealing. Yet it's no co-incidence that he replies to her words in a round-about sort of way, saying, "I didn't like them on the back of me, either. I've healed up, but I had a few scratches there, and the feel of the rain reminded me." He tries to sound casual, but even well-meant deceit isn't in his nature, so the suppressed interest is likely all too evident in his tone. Jasisi scoots back out of the bush to blink up at him curiously, evidently not following his meaning. Either that or she's too shy or embarrassed about her wounds to act like it. She looks away, ears splaying a bit, then crouches down to slink under the bush. The branches rustle about as she moves beneath it, turning about until she's laying down, and can look back out at him, chin resting on her paws. Kwafeli bends his own forelegs to tuck them against his chest, apparently at last finding that mildly awkward position to be less bothersome to him that the patter of rain. He blinks twice at Jasisi in a friendly manner, feeling something like pride at having coaxed her under the bush near him, even if his try to encourage her to talk about her healing state failed. Making the best of it, he pretends he meant only to talk of his own experiences. "Some bird swooped down on me, all talons," he said, putting a rhythm to the words that holds the barest suggestion of one who tries to tell stories that will hold attention. Jasisi looks over at Kwafeli, offering a faint smile as he settles in nearby. She wriggles about so that she can be perhaps a little bit closer...for bodyheat or comfort or something...Paws tucked in against her chest as well, she sighs softly as she gets comfortable. She doesn't reply to the comment about the birds. Instead, she whispers "Thank you." Kwafeli lifts one shoulder, pressing his cheek to it as if trying to conceal his face there. There is a soft smile curving on his muzzle, as, somewhere between embarrassed and touched out of all proportion, he says, "You're welcome," in a voice little louder than the female Serval's. He isn't sure what he's done, but his awareness of Jasisi settling close, and her expressed gratitude, warms him. Jasisi doesn't go so far as to seek physical contact with the other serval, as much as it might be comforting. So she just settles for being nearby, head tucked back atop her shoulders, ears quivering still, ever alert, even as she sleeps. Another soft sigh, and her eyelids begin to droop. "The rain sounds soothing, when you're out of it," Kwafeli says, quietly, having let some time pass with that the only sound from without their small shelter. Within, all to be heard now are the tiny sounds of fur brushing the lower branches when one Serval or the other shifts, and of breathing gone even with the unexpected peace. Jasisi smiles faintly. "Almost relaxing," she murmurs, wriggling a bit, cozying in beneath the bush as best she can. As thin as she is, and smaller than the male, it's a bit easier for her to scrunch beneath the bush. Kwafeli makes a small sound indicating agreement, not wanting, right now, to say anything that might jeopardize the peaceful feeling of being in their own, tucked-away world. The rain pattering down around them--and still onto his fur, here and there, if he admits it--acts as a barrier of sound as well as, almost, visibly, streaking and blurring what can be seen of the grasslands. =--------------------------------------------------------------------------=