Fringes we've got troubles, but what's new?

fit

---

It just felt like there was always something on his mind.

Basilio was tired of feeling like there was so much to worry over, especially when so little was happening around him. He spent his days, for the most part, living in a sort of pseudo-domestic situation on a lake, in a cabin that was small but functional, with enough money in his back pocket to not worry about the fact that he was utterly unemployable. To many, this would have been the lap of absolutely joy, basking in it from day to day.

And sometimes he was able to trick himself a little into feeling that way. But most of the time the reality loomed over him like the lion inside him. Waiting, watching for the chance for things to go quite terrible.

The sun was just barely up. He was out at the lake, sitting on the edge of it. Pretending, as he often did right now, that he knew what he was doing. A knife in one hand, a long stick in the other. He'd found some old fishing line in the cabin from a previous owner and had thought... he could fish? Only he didn't have a rod, and they were expensive for what amounted to a hobby he might try once and never return to. So he'd decided on a different route. Pare down a stick, put a line at the end of it, see what happened.

Right now, he was taking smaller twigs off the side of the straight-ish branch he'd found. Him and this little knife he'd also found, which definitely wasn't for whittling anything but certainly did the job. He slipped, though, and with a hiss realized he'd just cut his palm.

"God--damnit," he swore, disjointed as he tried to stop himself and failed. Hushed, pressing his thumb to it, closing his eyes and warding off the lion who had risen up at the sensation. There was nothing here to fight. The knife could not be vanquished. Please, go away.

fit, cw for predation in writing

---

She had a nightmare last night. One of these hyperrealistic ones where she was hunted by her former queen. Kicked out for having infected another. Made to pay for this life she altered with her own.

Awakening in a sweat, she had meant to go jump in the lake to push the panic aside... but a lion had emerged. Had waited, little ears listening in at the night. No movement from the cavern (cabin). Might as well go catch breakfast.

So after dawn she was bringing back half a sheep. Snacked on the way.

But a different scent of blood caught her attention. One she knew well. The only human-adjacent blood she had spilled over her decade as a lion.

Sheep promptly dropped, she stalked closer, ready to spill more blood if it meant protecting her ambiguous protégé.

Even with a slightly increased healing factor, the cut didn't want to close easily. He pulled his thumb away and hissed at the pain again, and then again when the wound continued to seep red.

He remained oblivious for the moment, too distracted by this injury and his own frustration at it to realize he was being stalked. The half-light of the morning and the stiff cool breeze off the lake wrapped up his senses in their efforts.

There was no one, nothing here but him, a knife, and a stick. Sat hunched on the shore in his jacket, a lion still rumbling in his chest. His eyes were surely changed, but he held tenuously onto the rest.

Walk walk sniff sniff.

Blood and lion. Who was the enemy?

She got closer, instincts not letting her be anything but silent as she crept.

A low rumble. Bali, who hurt you?

The rumble startled him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Fearing something terrible had found him, his blood, like a shark coming out of the water. And he swung his purpled gaze toward her, this lioness, and for the briefest second there was terror in his gaze. He did not recognize her--

Until the next breath, when he caught scent of her, and knew her in a way that was not intimate but somehow just as personal, and the hackles soothed.

She had hurt him, once, but never again. Not intentionally. He exhaled a shaky laugh, not amused but unsettled.

"You scared me, Thal," he accused, still holding his hand as he had been.

She scared him. She knew it even before he told her, and she was making herself smaller. Pressed against the ground.

There was a mild feeling of offense from the lion side. He had a nose, he should use it. They had given him these senses after all, and if you removed all the useless human guilt, it was an improvement. He'd see it, in time. He would thank her instead of tolerating her.

Laid on her side. Sniffed at the hand.

She knew she could speak in this form, but had never tried. There was something... unholy, about words in a lion voice.

The giant lioness got small as she could, and he felt his heart settle. But his hand still throbbed with unwelcome pain... and he held it out to her, so she knew. He still didn't know how much of this lion was his friend and how much of it was a mindless as his own was. It was something he still didn't fully believe, if he was honest. There was an indistinct line between the woman and the animal. But where his would not let him remember, hers would.

"Just a knife. I was making a fishing pole."

Maybe he'd let her eat his hand. Take away these foolish notions of doing more.

Why make? Why not buy? They were swimming in money as if their lake was full of it. Maybe for the fun of making. Thalia understood that, Thalion didn't.

Thalion understood harm, so she dragged herself closer. Wanted to groom and make him feel better.

Yellow eyes asking for permission.

He tried not to be nervous. It was hard, but compared to any other lion he might have locked eyes with, this was a breeze.

So he kept his hand out.

"If you want."

Maybe he was still thinking about her eating it.

Of course she wanted. Most of her life was about making his bearable.

More stretching. Keeping her paws down even if she wanted to grab that arm to properly clean the wound.

The gentlest lick would be given. Tentative. Expecting him to react adversely.

Basilio did not hold his breath, but focused on deep and slow. Keeping himself as level as he could, especially when the touch of that rough tongue brought his own lion up to the surface of his mind all the more, rumbling in greeting to the one who had created it.

It was more comforting than he liked it to be. He wished his mind was entirely his own. But there was a sensation in him so deep about how this wasn't threatening to him that he could not overcome it even out of spite.

"Thanks," he muttered, and would let her continue. Maybe if she cleaned it the wound would seal up before long. If the skin just knit back together, he would appreciate that. Sort of. The practicality of it won out over his upset at having anything but a regular human experience.

Thalion wouldn't stop until he asked her, or if the wound was closed. Human logic said it should at least stop bleeding soon. It was just a knife, after all.

Flicks of tail. She wanted to play. Thalia wanted them to focus.

Being better at not shifting didn't mean they were back into harmony.

The bleeding stopped. The wound would take a while to really close up and begin to heal, but... he'd feel better by tomorrow, almost certainly. He drew his hand back after a bit, tucking his arms across himself, hiding his hand away in his armpit.

Looked back at the water, trying to ignore yellow eyes on him and how that made him feel.

"You were up early."

Pointless to talk to a lion, but he did it anyway.

Job done. Slow blink at the comment, and she got back on her paws to bounce away.

Wouldn't be gone long, just enough to go get their sheep before some fearless idiot stole it from them.

Look, Bali, breakfast!

Where was she--

Oh.

"Where did you get that?" he questioned, suddenly aware that they weren't as alone up here as one might think sometimes. Was this a domestic or a wild sheep? He knew there were both and--

Calm down. It's dead. Done. It didn't matter.

"You should eat it."

He didn't want to.

A grunt, and a very human wave of a front paw in the direction of the woods. She had walked a long time to get this to feed him and--

--and he didn't want it.

Perky body language would droop at that. But she knew not to insist, so she would drag the sheep away again, a little distance away, behind some trees. Not hidden because she wanted to look over him.

And eat her sad breakfast by herself.

It was terrible, how he could feel guilty for this. Watching a whole, giant cat droop and slink away like he'd just told her that she was a monster. Which she was, but... he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings with that rejection.

He just got no joy from inhuman meals. And even less joy from becoming a lion himself.

In spite of his wounded hand, he picked back up his stick, and went back to working on it. Tried real hard to tell himself that he had no reason to be guilty, she was just a lion, and she would benefit from the meal better than he would. She should be grateful to not have to babysit him so thoroughly.

Funny how no feelings could get in the way of appetite. Soon there would be next to nothing left of the meal, and she left the horns there to pick them up later.

Slinked into the lake to wash off the blood, then approached Bali again. Not too close. Maybe six feet away.

She had a lot of water to groom out of her coat and clearly he wasn't going to help >:[

In spite of his earlier mishap with the knife, things were going well on the 'make a fishing pole' end of things. Basi had had time to get the stick all cleaned up--a great way to pretend you could ignore the crunch of bone and gristle behind you--and then create a notch near the top to secure the line.

It was this part he was focused in on as the lionness came out of the water. Brow furrowed as he took that thin, nearly transparent line and twined it around the tip, working on a knot that would hold when something, theoretically, grabbed hold of the line.

And she sat and groomed herself, and he could feel her sulk nearly as if it was his own.

"I'm sorry, okay."

Low rumble. Apology not accepted. Well, Thalia wanted to, but her lion was growing impatient. What had they not done for their progeny? Seemed like there was still something missing after all this time, and it was too complex for a lion brain to figure out.

Grooming would continue without even a look in his direction. Have fun scratching wood with your not-claw, Bali.

Cold shoulder from an animal. Who knew it could feel so pointed, huh?

He finished the knot, gave the stick a good wiggle. It seemed secure. Now he sought out the other end of the line, to the hook that he'd already attached to it. Not much good without bait. He should have brought bread out or something. Maybe...

Taking to rooting around on the ground in search of something. Worm. Beetle. Anything he could use. All while trying to pretend he wasn't intimidated by the silent treatment from a lion.

Not so silent. She was crushing bones now. Marrow would be aaaaaaall hers.

Feeling pretty vindicated, too. She was always offering him the best morsels when they hunted, not that the human would know, especially since Thalia didn't take credit.

Hmph.