Persiphone • Female • Citizen • 5 Years • Camp •
Mentions: Open

The ebony lioness crawled along the surface of the stone she rest upon, pressing her face against the material, a small snail meeting her eye as it nonchalantly slithered along, leaving a thin, slimy substance trailing behind it. Persiphone stuck out her tough, rough like sandpaper, and licked the slimy creature into her mouth, biting hard on the irregular shell with two teeth and slurping at the tiny creature with great force. Finally, the shell cracked enough so that the lady could get at what was inside, slurping it down and spitting the rest of the shell out. Persiphone used an extended claw to whisk away the broken fragments of the shell.
The lass rolled over onto her back, before sliding off the edge of the stone and onto the rough, dead savannah grass. She peered over her belly, tail flickering wildly in front of her, everyone that was in camp seemed to be speaking with others. Persiphone pushed off the rock with her hind legs, colliding with a dead log that nearby. As a sharp piece of wood that was jutting out of the log pierced Persiphone's left shoulder, she swiftly scrambled to her paws and made haste towards the other side of camp. Perhaps something or someone of interest may be there.

Subira

Female | Citizen | 4 years 9 months | Location: Camp | Mentions: Kifo (D), Mnyama (D) 

"I will take my catches to the queens and cubs then," she replied to Mnyama's question with a nonchalant tone. With her father out of camp training the juniors, the red lioness did not see a reason to focus solely on the elders, especially when others were willing to take care of them. Subira looked at Kifo for a moment, her sapphire eyes seeming to gaze into the younger lioness's soul. She was not surprised by the displeasant display of violence to the meerkats, nor was she not expecting it. She just found it odd and a waste of energy for the result of overkill. After a moment, she stood up and stretched, her muscles rippling in the sunlight. "If we are still planning on using the meerkats for speed practice, now is the time." She pointed with her muzzle to the sudden flurry of small bodies scurrying to find shelter. The older female flicked her ear and looked back over at the two younger lionesses, waiting for an answer to decide whether or not they would chase the prey or go back to camp. The red lioness hated making decisions, especially when it concerned others. She had learned a long time ago that no one liked being bossed around. She simply made suggestions now, an outline in the sand for people to either follow or crush under their paws. 

Talillou ; Female ; Elder ; 12 years ; Mentions: Open / Kirron, Mzee [D]

Talillou ambled nearer to those close to her age, careful not to trip over her paws and make a complete fool of herself. She found that she could better relate to the elders in lieu of the new volatile generation brought up by the new king. She inwardly sighed, thinking of some of the animosity she had witnessed since he had assumed leadership. As she was within range of the two males, she puffed out to them, "Is this where the old folks gather now? May I join you?" Her voice was low and calm, for nothing that day had yet shifted her content mood. Her eyes drifted between the two lions, tail swaying as she waited for a response.

(I know this is grossly short, but I wanted to put myself out there)

Mzee|'Male' (he/him) | Elder, 15.3 | Camp | Mentions: Kirron,
Mzee

Talillou ; Female ; Elder ; 12 years ; Camp ; Mentions: Kirron, Mzee [D]

Talillou's eyes glittered with amusement as the two lions joked. "We are fragments of history, my friends, and the past will live so long as we do," she puffed out her chest in a prideful manner, but she giggled merely heartbeats after striking her pose. Upon hearing the approving words of her fellow denmates, she carefully laid down next to them. Her back hips were beginning to give her some discomfort she'd realized. She was visibly unfazed as Mzee somewhat butchered her name as many others often did; in fact, she tried to suppress a small laugh. That's a new one, she thought to herself. Talillou, in an attempt to inoffensively correct him, softly chuckled, "If you find it easier, you can call me Tal. Honestly, sometimes I wish my parents would have named me something simpler, but here I am." She raised her paw to itch her slightly marred nose. "Enlighten me, how has eldership treated you lately?"

Persiphone • Female • Citizen • 5 Years • Camp •
Mentions: Quahneah (speaking) •

Persiphone's large jaws stretched out into a yawn as she watched a younger lass attacked another lioness. Persiphone licked her lips, sauntering to get a better view as the floral lioness walked away, Persiphone slinking in the dark shadow of a large baobab tree with a thick trunk and thin branches. The lass followed the mottled lioness, who seemed to be angry, although possibly a bit in pain. Purely in boredom, Persiphone sat next to the much younger lady once she had found a place to nap. Picking and choosing words, Persiphone licked her lips one last time and began to speak, "Hello," she spoke softly, and her voice seemed kind, although it was a forced kindness Persiphone had been used to using as so that her personality seemed a bit more desireable, easily seeming as if it were a part of her personality due to acting so much. "What was up with that other lass over there, ey?" The lioness' shoulders rolled as she shifted to lay down next to the other female, thinking this lass might perhaps be useful to her at some point.

Persiphone • Female • Citizen • 5 Years • Camp •
Mentions: Quahneah (speaking) •

Persiphone watched the other lass as she spoke. Clearly, this lioness, whom had now presented herself with the name of 'Quahneah', was not a violent lady. Persiphone tapped her unsheathed claws against the ground, scraping up a cloud of dust and dry dirt as she forced her left forearm upward. "My name is Persiphone," the lady purred as she spoke, speaking now loudly and with what seemed to be pride. As she listened, Persiphone learned of Quahneah's mother's care, and had now been contemplating that, perhaps she should have followed the other lioness instead, maybe the two could have a real friendship. Instead of leaving, Persiphone simply nodded slowly. The idea of forcing Amenhotep's dreams to become a reality, to possibly gain his trust and power, was a wonderful idea. Persiphone now kept herself from showing a toothy grin, "Perhaps the King's dreams, in her mind, might be of use to her, perhaps she thinks she can rule beside him as queen, his power in the tips of her claws and at her command." Now, Persiphone was standing, hovering over Quahneah in a 'U' shape behind the lioness, Persiphone's larger skull residing just behind Quahneah's right ear, yet still in front of her right shoulder. Persiphone hugged closely to Quahneah's frame as she whispered into the other lady's ear, "Did you ever consider attacking your mother yourself, show her who has the real power here, which one of you deserves the respect out of the two?" Now, Persiphone was grinning, her tail lashing viciously behind her. "Or perhaps I could do it for you," Now, the lass was stalking on the ground in front of Quahneah, facing the other lady. "Befriend her and, when she isn't looking," Persiphone reached out with extended claws toward Quahneah's face, she would have deeply cut the other lioness if she moved even an inch further. Persiphone's grin was now wide as she stared back up at the lass.
"Or, maybe it isn't revenge you want, you just wish for approval," Persiphone stood up, her dawn eyes flickering like a wildfire. "Or, if you're like me, you would find a way to get your mother to trust you, and then hurt her deeply, turn your back on her when she most needs your help, run away and never be seen again..." Persiphone yawned, now, pausing for only a short moment to give Quahneah some time to think. "Maybe you could show your mother that you're a lot like her, or just pretend she doesn't exist, give up her, disown her, it really all comes down to you."

Nootau


Male | 4 Years | Citizen
Location: Pride Dens | Mentions: None - Open

A large white lion stepped out from the mouth of one of the many dens, his pelt was tussled and messy, a blur of black and white spots and speckles. Orange eyes roamed over the lands in a lazy sweep, and he opened his maw wide to yawn. Sleeping in late wasn’t his forte but he’d been too excited lately, the buzz of eagerness keeping him awake at ungodly hours of the night. He shuffled across the pride-lands, hoping to catch a quick meal before anyone stopped him. The discarded leg of an impala was his only choice and he fell down onto his belly with a loud thump, dust shooting up around his massive body. Teeth sinking into the old flesh of the prey, the meat wasn’t as juicy as he’d hoped it’d be, and most of the blood had already been drained.

No matter, a simple unsatisfactory meal wouldn’t sour his mood now. As long as the rebellion was still going strong, and they’d keep at it, he wouldn’t let anything weigh him down. Perhaps a training session would be good this afternoon? Go deep into the trees, and do some jumping and climbing practice. He’d have to keep his body active, so easy for his large paws to miss branches, and lose his footing. Yes, later when the sun is just touching the treetops, he will sneak away into the forest.

Persiphone • Female • Citizen • 5 Years • Camp •
Mentions: Quahneah (speaking) •

Persiphone licked her lips, paws shuffling in the dry savannah grass. The lass concealed a deep grin with merely a straight face, satisfied that her attempt to bring out Quahneah's true self had worked not in vain. Persiphone would slowly nod, now that the idea of telling Amenhotep of betrayal was planted into Persiphone's head, she couldn't help but think of the trouble it would cause. Oh, what fun! Perhaps she might tell the king, perhaps not, she played many scenarios in her head, contemplating how it might go. Whether she told him or not, she would still get to see death, other lions and lionesses will slowly begin to gather at her side for her own personal gain. It was easy for her to conceal her true thoughts and feelings, as she had done so most of her life, now, although thinking of such things for too long at once might place a questionable grin upon her face, if she weren't careful. "I see, your thoughts prove to be rather interesting, and, I believe, you think the right way." Persiphone's tone in voice now was continuously emotionless, she didn't speak of Quahneah's snarling or aggressive manner, as this might not help build trust. "Now, may I suggest a wonderful thing? It's not best to plan without allies, and I, for one, can easily tell you if your own plans may go down the drain, seeping into the dry dust along with your own blood. Otherwise, I myself would like to have a few friends to speak with when i'm bored, and as might you. What do you say to such a request?" Persiphone paused for a short moment, taking in the warm air surrounding the two, "Would like to have myself as a friend, or perhaps someone to speak with, go to for advice? Not everyone is perfect, and even the shyest of introverts would like someone to speak with eventually."

Rakta | 13 years, 8 months | Elder | Pride outskirts - heading in | Mentions: The Pride

"Poor, poor saps. What a shame it would be if their king were to pass on.." A buzzard named Loch crooned as he swooped overhead of the tired looking lion, planting himself onto the dusty floor of the savanna. He feared Rakta, which is why he paid close attention to his proximity towards the brute. It was high noon, and the sun was doing a number on his dark fur. Nonetheless, it was hard not to focus on the bird's high pitched remark. "Oh, please." He scoffed in a gruff sounding voice. "He would simply be replaced. There's no telling how many sons he has by now...Uh-...how long have I been absent exactly?" Rakta's tail flicked with contemplation, and the buzzard cast a nervous gaze to him. "Oh it's hard to say. Days, perhaps months...Where have you been?"

The elderly lion blinked his heterochromatic orbs at Loch, who twitched with nervousness. Rakta's eyes then rolled back into their sockets, and he rose to stand on all four of his sturdy paws. "You ask a lot of questions, Loch." He murmured, heading downhill towards his prides territory. "Not very charismatic. Makes you kind of an underfoot figure." The wiry lion's tail swayed back and forth behind him as he padded off with a determined sort of grace, leaving behind a rather perplexed looking buzzard.