.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
tembovu
Mbwene lightly trumpets in delight as Tsavo’s lowers her dark muzzle within reach of her trunk, the long appendage reaching out to stroke the velveteen lips. But the proud woman who smelled of home was lost to her as she stepped away, and Mbwene vaguely began to understand the tension in the air and in her bond— she was quickly becoming exposed to a vast multitude of emotions through her bonded. Dejectly, she meandered to uproot and nibble on some partially dead grass, leaving the Dorobians with their pasts and ghosts.
Tembovu’s thick hide felt the careful study of her bright, sharp gaze as she answered his question. But he did not avert his eyes, he did not allow himself to fold in guilt. “About us.” Those words resound in his ears, and he parts his lips to ask, ‘What about us?’ but the question died on his lips as she continued, her voice as stony as her stare.
He kept his silence until she was finished, until she told him of her loss and turned a question on him. Her voice is calm, impassive, but it was the pleading in her bright eyes (a gaze that was once so familiar) that drew him into her. He took a step towards her, muzzle parting to answer, “I did not think he would make the connections—” his words broke off, ears pinning as he realized that his excuse would be just that: an excuse for causing the lioness’s ruin. Gaze turns to a glare as anger at himself sparked in his eyes, turning to stare beyond the lioness for a moment, “Kunja asked for proof— for a reason to believe the information I brought him. And I knew he, of all men, would not doubt information shared between lovers. We, both you and I, needed him to believe the knowledge you gave be of the Banderi and Makutano. And, as you said yourself, we know how justice is dealt in Korofi, and what would have happened if Kunja believed I was lying to him. So I told him how I came across the information— but I never gave him your name. I wouldn’t do that to you, Tsavo.”
His gaze, now dark and desolate, retuned to Tsavo’s face. First at the snip of white at her muzzle, then seeking her eyes, “I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but I’m sorry that you lost him and your family.” One ear flicked forward, listening for her reaction, the other tilted back at the guilt of his confession. But his great body was tense, straining and ready to either take or contain whatever reaction the lioness had to his admission.
Tembovu’s thick hide felt the careful study of her bright, sharp gaze as she answered his question. But he did not avert his eyes, he did not allow himself to fold in guilt. “About us.” Those words resound in his ears, and he parts his lips to ask, ‘What about us?’ but the question died on his lips as she continued, her voice as stony as her stare.
He kept his silence until she was finished, until she told him of her loss and turned a question on him. Her voice is calm, impassive, but it was the pleading in her bright eyes (a gaze that was once so familiar) that drew him into her. He took a step towards her, muzzle parting to answer, “I did not think he would make the connections—” his words broke off, ears pinning as he realized that his excuse would be just that: an excuse for causing the lioness’s ruin. Gaze turns to a glare as anger at himself sparked in his eyes, turning to stare beyond the lioness for a moment, “Kunja asked for proof— for a reason to believe the information I brought him. And I knew he, of all men, would not doubt information shared between lovers. We, both you and I, needed him to believe the knowledge you gave be of the Banderi and Makutano. And, as you said yourself, we know how justice is dealt in Korofi, and what would have happened if Kunja believed I was lying to him. So I told him how I came across the information— but I never gave him your name. I wouldn’t do that to you, Tsavo.”
His gaze, now dark and desolate, retuned to Tsavo’s face. First at the snip of white at her muzzle, then seeking her eyes, “I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but I’m sorry that you lost him and your family.” One ear flicked forward, listening for her reaction, the other tilted back at the guilt of his confession. But his great body was tense, straining and ready to either take or contain whatever reaction the lioness had to his admission.
@Tsavo BOOM goes the dynamite
Please tag Tembovu.
