The afternoon heat had gripped the lands, leaving many to seek shelter beneath the shade of a welcoming marula tree; to seek out a drink at a local watering hole; or to simply doze during the most unforgiving time of day. One lion in particular had seemingly collapsed upon the dusty earth, his ebony coat tangled, his oily wings in tatters, and his pale coat covered in grime and dirt. Perhaps he might have been a handsome lion if he'd been properly cleaned up... but Nemanja'janan didn't care about his appearance, didn't care about the heat, and quite frankly, didn't care enough to find welcoming shade.In fact, the god had been lying in the same position for days, and while vultures periodically took a nibble to see if he was dead-enough to eat, their disappointment finding out he was still quite-alive was the strongest emotion to be found near his patch of grass. Let the vultures pick at him; let the flies n** at his nose and ears, let the sun beat on his coat, and the monsoons leave him all but drowned. The world could crumbled around the old god, but he simply could not come to care.
He couldn't remember why he had come, nor could he remember why he had stopped in his travels. He slept when he felt like it; he stirred when he finally had enough effort to do so; but generally speaking, the lion simply lay in one spot, as if frozen in time.
Breath by breath, he let the world pass him by. What did he care? One day was much like the next, after all. Meaningless.