Lioness of Prideless
Played by dusk

arsynia tollaire.

The muffled thundering of the rain outside drawled on with little signs of relenting, and Arsynia had long begun to dry her fur when she realized perhaps she would have to spend the night in that tiny little nook. Her shoulder braced against the curled inside of the trunk, feeling the way it creaked underneath her, and crackled in her ears as if threatening to break. And yet, it remained firm: unmoving, if not a bit enfeebled. But as she struggled to get comfortable, the blissful cacophony of the rain was suddenly accompanied by the soft footfalls and the soaked leaves crumpling underneath. Arsynia's ears swiveled forward, straining to hear as the sound grew closer and closer.

Eventually, her mismatched gaze peered from the darkness of the tree as another lion approached: a lion, far larger than any man she had ever seen before. The lions here were truly massive if they all came in his size, and Arsynia could not quell the thrum of her heart as it thundered in her throat. She was hidden for now, muffled by the darkness and the sound of the rain as it swept half-sideways through the forest. But as he encroached, hastier and just as soaked through as she had been, Arsynia had little time to try and find a swift escape. Instead, she would need to face him directly.

And fight for this place you have taken as your own.

No—no.

She drew an unsteady breath, willing away such primal, animalistic urges. Her introduction to Aesseldar had been roughened by the expansive terrain and the aggressive, steeled lions fostered within it. But Arsynia Tollaire would not unhinge herself just yet; it was power and control she craved. “Halt, lion,” she bellowed from the entrance of the tree, poking her head out enough that he could see her, but she would not be completely captured by the downpour of the rain, “this tree is not big enough for the both of us.” There was little threat in her tone, a more matter-of-factness lingering in her steeled, even tenor. If he should bare his fangs, she was more inclined to leave; but least of all did she desire to be squashed against the side of the tree just so he could fit.


@Lucien
Art by defineDead