but you’d never get hit without earning it
and i only hit you first ‘cuz i deserved my own hit too
still it comes the time to call you out
since i’m the one that you should be about
Hyaline is far too strong on the wind to just be the normal Loessian breeze.
Litotes is in his usual lion form when the gentle wind brings Amet’s presence into his nose. He opens his mouth, the fresh and cool smell settling on his tongue. His golden eyes close to slits, pale and near-white fur fluttering as the scent passes. Kensa is certainly not visiting him, and he can recall the distinct smell of the man that took his place from his last dance into the East.
The wind tells Lie that the Primarch is close, his head slowly turning toward the direction the stallion is in. As he studies his surroundings, chewing on the idea of greeting the dragonhide man, the smell of rain pervades his every sense. His gaze rolls lazily to the sky, the gray reflection turning the topaz a murky brown. To greet or not to greet? He supposes he should do his Marauder duties: on top of leading the warriors, offering an unspoken protection of the borders. Simple kingdom life Lie has plenty of experience in, though such mundane things he finds distasteful when reminding him of a past life.
A sigh: loud, feline, and resigned. He pads in the direction of Amet’s prominent call.
As he travels, he returns to his natural form. The equine stretch of his legs is beginning to feel more and more like him, even if the discomfort of transition is a constant cloud distorting his mind. In his most honest moments, he knows that he is not meant to be a lion forever.
The delicate web of his thoughts is interrupted when the Primarch’s golden hide gleams quite visibly upon a plateau. Litotes notes that Castile has not yet arrived. Again, he considers turning back, certain that Amet is here to smooth over any leftover wrinkles between Hyaline and Loess. He pauses out of sight of the visitor, digging a single hoof into the pliable dirt as he ponders. Once more, that devilish grin returns to his face, and he thinks he belongs in a discussion such as this. Perhaps Amet will not be pleased to have to face the one whom Kagerus places all the blame upon, but will that not make the encounter all the more interesting? Delighted at the idea but truly expecting nothing, Litotes approaches.
“Amet,” a lion’s growl in the back of his throat, fangs that never shift hanging just visible below his lip. “I assumed I would meet you eventually, but not within the Loessian borders. My name is Litotes, Marauder of Loess - well met.” He smiles a cold smile, teeth like the cruel edge of a sword.
“Looking for Castile, I presume? I can’t imagine Hyaline has any other business here than to meet with the king.”
@[Castile] @[Amet]
