(ca-) hooting in the noon [mud]

[çryptic]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/1zh2rdj.jpg), bTable] [style=margin-top: -50px; color: #241610; text-align: justify]"Talk the talk" After so many days of continual snowfall and bitter cold, a reprieve had come to the city. Melting snow banks were scattered around the city, clinging to the feet of buildings as they slowly, imperceptibly, melted away. Wind occasionally sliced through the streets in its quest to penetrate every shield with its chill. It was nothing if not a constant reminder that the lull in the weather was only temporary. Even so, a large number of the Pride were taking the opportunity to hunt down any prey stupid--or desperate--enough to venture out and brave the lions, leopards, cats, and what-have-you...and to replenish the Pride's dwindling food supply. It was a noble cause, to be sure, but there were more important things on his agenda, things that were better done under the guise of something as innocuous as hunting. Apollo's paws fell silently on the tarmac, damp with the moisture of snow puddles. A while had passed since his last decent meal, and the season left him rather more lean than usual, though he still moved with the same feline grace of the rest of his species. Were anyone to happen to glance down from the rooftops, or glimpse his form, the automatic assumption would be that he was doing the same as every other cat currently moving about. And why not? He was hunting; rather than 'what', however, it was 'who'. Filled with purpose, he knew full well that it be safer if no one were to know of his ventures, that he would have been less likely to be spotted in the middle of a blizzard. On the other hand, his little quarry probably wasn't going to be gamboling about in the middle of a snow storm, so even if he had wanted to go plowing through it, the effort would all be for naught. Besides, the chances of anybody guessing his true intentions today were incredibly slim. To them, he was merely another creature wanting to make full use of this pause in snowfall. On a more personal level, Apollo had come to despise seeing Hexasol's white blanket, as white as one of the only white lions in the entire city: Panja. It gave him mild satisfaction to see it melt away. Ever since Florence's death, Panja was the sole leader. Had Apollo mourned the end of his mother's life, it was only out of a grudging respect. Greater than that, it was mourning for the death of his ambitions in Iris. There was no doubt in his mind that Panja would do everything possible to ensure his precious cubs' future leadership. Nothing Apollo did would ever change that fact, especially since Florence only ever intended her first litter to be a pawn just to kill one person. Why should he tether himself to a group that refused to fully acknowledge his ambitiousness, his right? Out of love for his mother, to respect her hopes for the pride and her expectations for her first litter to be weapons? Not likely. She had asked for unquestioning loyalty, never love, and after how crushed Panja had become or how desperate Florence was following the abduction of those three rascals, Apollo was glad she hadn't. He refused to let such weaknesses drag him down more than his station already had. Now, back to the matter at hand. Apollo gave his head a shake, dispelling the treasonous thoughts swirling endlessly in him. Not that he was doing anything less treasonous, but it was distracting him from his mission. Having already left the Iris border behind some time ago, all that was left was tracking down the other. There weren't many places for him to start, considering how neither he nor his prey--for lack of a better word--had ever laid eyes on each other, let alone met. Nevertheless, Apollo was confident his trip would come to fruition. Maybe it was premonition, but he had the unshakable feeling that the heir would show himself, come to him, even, before the night out. The lion smiled faintly as he ambled across the wooden slats of the dock. Upon reaching the end, he laid down, amber eyes glinting as he glanced around at the boats. Stretched out along the platform, Apollo looked for all the world as if he belonged there. ooc;; muse. what a foreign ingredient. hope i didn't go on too much >.< [/style]

[MudBug]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=height,319,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/10gidxe.jpg);] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks, or maybe it was tricks playing with his mind. Whatever the case may be, Course was in a near constant state of unrest these past twenty-four hours. So, maybe it was the time? What time was it? Sometime in early evening, but time was so relative to Course. It was just the sun rising and setting, nothing more. The world felt as though it were at a stand still. No events, no cares, nothing happening to mark the days as they passed all too quickly. Taking his sweet time - If I don't take it, life will - Course took slow steps, still with his usual, overt regal air, to cross the last expanse of valley between himself and the banks of the bay. He lowered his lips to take a swill from the icy cold water; he hoped the right amount of focus could help the refreshing caress of it in his throat wash away his worries. It wasn't so, and his mind still reeled with fret over . . . something. That was the frustrating part: Course could not put a label on his troubles. Maybe, I don't have any problems . . . and that's the problem. Why did his thoughts always come in riddles? The words bounced around in his head, and the truth slowly soaked in. What had his plan been? Wage war, bring justice, kill whoever got in his way? That sounded right, so why wasn't it in action. Of course, he was not oblivious to his youth, but surely there was some ball he could get rolling at present. Something, anything - there was always a job to be done. Just as his mind began to drift off to contemplate what steps he could take, at this point in life, to initiate his vengeance, a strong draft of lion scent caught his attention. The wind carried it from the east, and there was no mistaking that it was male . . . and Iris.

[çryptic]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/1zh2rdj.jpg), bTable] [style=margin-top: -50px; color: #241610; text-align: justify]"Talk the talk" It was quiet, and had it not been for the dark intentions that drove him here, he might have been at peace for the first time in his life. Alas, there were too many things he needed to make happen, all of which he had to bring about himself. Come to think of it, his being able to enjoy the solitude here was not a good thing. The wind off the sea behind him could hardly fail to carry his smell farther into the heart of the territory. Somebody was bound to have noticed already. It wasn't like Iris members visited daily, or anything that might make his scent any less...unwelcome. The defenses were poorer than even he would have expected. No wonder they did so little. It was impossible not to compare it with Iris, where guards would have already tracked down the intruders. Better than nothing. Apollo raised his head. His eyes slowly traveled along the sandy bay area, scanning for any sign of another creature. Nothing, no one, that caught his attention. Not a single glimpse of a sentry that might deign to do him the favor of alerting the leader. He rose to his paws with a resigned sigh, sarcastically wondering if, given the lack of security, he was going to have to notify someone for them to get anything accomplished--now that would be pathetic. He padded unhurriedly back across the dock, only taking a few steps before he glimpsed the figure silhouetted in the distance. Apollo paused. It was too far away to make out any specific features. He was also upwind, but he was fairly certain the stranger was no passing visitor. His eyes narrowed, focusing all the more intently on it: tawny gold, relatively stocky build...lion? A young one. A satisfied smile slowly spread across his muzzle. It could only be one individual, and the exact one Apollo had come to find. He moved forward, his pace even, and calmly halving the distance between them before stopping once more. He waited patiently for the other to come a bit closer, as curiosity was bound to compel him. "And you," Apollo said at last, "must be Course." He tilted his head. It is a sad day indeed when a king-in-waiting must single-handedly patrol his own domain."

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