Arsynia,
Lioness of Prideless
Played by dusk

His temper seemed to ease as time passed; perhaps the beauty of this place soothed him as much as it did her. Arsynia was certain the dusty scrublands she'd been born into would have incited something more violent, for it was always in the nature of lions to rush on their instinct, to feed their base desires. There was something calming about the windsweep down the mountainside, and the valley that sprawled outward before them until it met the sea. Even here, she could see the darkening horizon meet the ocean, and watch as the sun fell from behind, leaving its illuminating night and plunging the coast into an empty darkness.

No need to leave. I've had a hard climb here so I was angry at the world. Like usual, he said as she turned to leave, and Arsynia Tollaire paused momentarily. It as not in her nature to entertain the paltry thoughts of lions she'd met in passing, but the loneliness of Aesseldar perhaps compelled her to stay—or was it something else? She settled down a few paces from the edge of the cliff, studying each unique and off-white feature of him as the darkness settled and her eyes adjusted: the tuft of his tail, the gregariousness of his stature, the darkness around his eyes she could not quite yet tell were darker fur of tiredness. “Untempered ire is unbecoming of a man your size and stature,” she said bluntly, and though her words were much like a mother chiding her child, the tone in her voice was steeled and even, “what did the world do to anger you?”

@Barnabas
Art by soar