Cairidan,
Lion of Prideless
Played by dusk

Cairidan loathed the rain, but there was some joy to be found in the deep rumbling of the thunderclaps as they trembled the earth, veins of spindling lightning sprawling across the darkened sky as they leapt from cloud to cloud. The smell of fire mixed in with the rain, where the hollowed trunks of ancient trees burned under the ferocity of electricity. The nights were often quiet, and with the encroaching winter, the northward skies tended to arrive pregnant with snow and hail, before eventually melting into rain as they descended down the mountain slopes and into the steppe. Cairidan had avoided the most recent downpour, seeking shelter under the jagged outcropping of a rocky alcove, resting with a few other critters that had decided to join him there, preferring to brave the stoic company of a lion rather than risk being washed away by the rains.

Eventually, the rain had come to pass, and even though the brim of daylight tried to sneak through, the impregnable cloud-cover plunged the steppe into a blissful, hazy gray. As he emerged from his small and safe haven and began to move across the moor-like terrain, Cairidan soon discovered upon the horizon the lumbering silhouette of another lion hulking over his meal, soaked to the bone yet decidedly far more interested in filling his belly. The brute's nose twitched, but clearly now their crossing paths were unavoidable.

“An easy catch, I presume,” he uttered nonchalantly, his sunlit gaze flicking between the lion and what remained of his meal, “given most cats don't like the rain.” The weight of wet fur would drag any lion down, but the prey who knew of that as well might have let their guard down during a storm.

Art by AleTie