Backlog RP


Everything was desaturated, or maybe it was more like the world had lost half of its colors, or that the sun was too bright, or too dim, or things were too blurry. The world was off. Something was distorted, but Crabanniel's eyes were perfectly healthy. She knew she was healthy. But she felt sick. Everything was sick. The world was sick. Something was off. Everything was off....

Her body was a black rock in the mist of the jungle. The din of insects and birds was overwhelming, but the lioness had stopped paying attention. She'd been there too long to care anymore. Or not long at all. She couldn't remember. She had only a vague sense of where she was. She wasn't unfamiliar with this type of habitat. It was similar to her home, the Antianeira. But this place was dark. This place blotted out the light the deeper you went. The humidity was choking, suffocating. Heat rose from the rocks and rippled the palm fronds and tree trunks. She didn't feel hot, though. She didn't feel much of anything anymore. No, sometimes she did...sometimes she was tired. But each time she felt herself slipping off to sleep, adrenaline would surge through her and she'd press on. She'd find him. Oh, she'd find him...she'd find him or die trying. She just needed a little sleep first. Just a short rest...

"Hey," a harsh voice called. Crabanniel would've startled more, but the voice was feminine. She rose to her stomach to find its source. A black and purple lioness stared at her from between a line of palm trees, yellow eyes piercing through the shade. She didn't seem too much older than Crabanniel. Although the other female wasn't heavily scarred, Crabanniel recognized a warrior when she saw one. There was some equal recognition between the two of them, some unspoken understanding. While the other lioness didn't move forward, she did lean in slightly. "Are you dying?"

"No," Crabanniel answered. The question had roused her somewhat from her hyper fixation. How bizarre. It wasn't what one would expect to be asked upon first meeting a stranger. To her further surprise, the other lioness appeared annoyed by Crab's answer. When the other lioness began to back into the thick of the jungle, Crab started to her feet.

"Wait!" she cried. "Who are you?" The purple lioness stopped. She seemed to ponder the question for a moment, but then Crab realized she was probably deciding whether or not it was safe to explain herself. A dark past, perhaps? The notion suited the other female's appearance well enough.

"Lamya," the other lioness answered, "but it's not important. I'm just passing through." It was the truth, but it was unsatisfying. She could tell the other lioness felt the same way. The two shared much in common. They could see it in one another. But neither of them were the type to acknowledge it, and neither truly wanted to get to know the other. It just wasn't the right time. Maybe it never would be.

"So am I," Crab replied, "I'm Crabanniel. I'm not...from here," she said hesitantly, questioning how much explanation would be too much. The other lioness was right. It wasn't important. Maybe nothing was? Her eyes glazed over in thought.

Lamya didn't answer at first. She regarded the other female in silence for several moments. "Good for you," Lamya answered quietly. It was clear she wasn't one for conversation. Either that, or she just wasn't in the mood.

"Why were you disappointed?" Crabanniel asked. Lamya raised a brow, but her expression was quite flat otherwise.

"What do you mean?" the stranger asked.

"When you found out I wasn't dying," said the black lioness with an air of impatience. She hadn't felt that familiar spark of anger in weeks. Or was it months? Her temper used to flare up frequently, she remembered that much. But her mother had always--.... Crabanniel's eyes glazed over once more.

Lamya set her jaw and turned halfway to leave. Clearly that had been the wrong question to ask. "It has nothing to do with you," she said, and then she set off past a curtain of vines. Crab waited a moment and then, for reasons unknown to her, set off after the other lioness. Was it loneliness? Boredom? A sense of unsatisfied curiosity?

"Don't follow me," Lamya whispered harshly. Crab was undeterred. "Unless you actually want to die," she added.

"Are you gonna kill me?" Crab asked, sounding incredulous for more than one reason.

"A lot of things in this jungle would kill you," the purple lioness snapped, rounding on her, "and if you don't shut up, I'll pray they will."

Crab felt a peculiar sense of warm familiarity wash over her and she found herself more relaxed as she continued to follow the other lioness. She stared around at the thick canopy of fronds and leaves overhead, then at the little beams of sunlight that burst through wherever they could as if to gasp for breath. The chorus of bugs and birds and other animals seemed more a symphony than a cacophony. The mist was warm and stodgy, but there was something swirling about it--it pulled and caressed, inviting. It was a haunting place, dangerous but beautiful. Crabanniel hadn't noticed before. "What are you doing out here, really?" she asked quietly.

Lamya breathed a soft sigh. After a pause, she answered, "I'm just trying to figure something out. Or...someone. Both." It didn't answer the question, really, but somehow it sufficed. It'd have to, anyway. "The better question is what are you doing here?" Lamya returned.

"Why is that the better question?" Crabanniel grumbled. Lamya shushed her and Crab bristled with frustration. "You didn't even answer me properly," the younger lioness whispered angrily. Lamya turned abruptly to face her.

"Because I know what I'm doing and why," she hissed, "do you?!"

Crab was left speechless for a moment. One moment turned to several. Then minutes. An hour. Lamya had long since gone, but the red-masked lioness remained still and motionless, a black rock in the mist of the jungle. Over the clashing frog songs, parrot squawking, monkey screams, and cricket choruses, a tiny voice whispered,

"I don't know what I'm doing."