Well then. Things hadn't changed all that much, he guessed. From one pride obsessed with fighting (brawn over brains...), to another pride, just as obsessed, if not more, and of course, of course, they'd expect him to fight, because he, unlike his aunt, had perfectly pristine white pelt, unmarred by any barbaric rolling about, clawing people's eyes out.So of course. A fight it was. With a prince. During the middle of the day. While he was nursing a raging God damned headache.
Of course.
He had already rather much settled himself to wait his few moons of unbranded status, really; he wasn't a fighter! Despite his impressive size, he'd always been a scholar, not a ruffian or an army blockhead whose blood only sung for battle. His mother, however, seemed much too excited by the initiation and had forbidden him, by word of Motherly Law to simply lay about for three months in order to gain his status. Still, he could always just... sit and accept the corporal punishment; flop his massive frame over and close his eyes and take it like a lion.
But he had no doubt that if his mother was watching (which she was, he was sure she was - somewhere there, Azula was watching), she'd likely grab him by the ear and pull, and tug as if he were but a small cub, rather than an adult, and she would not shut up about it. He had to put in some effort, even if it was minimal before he flopped over and begged for a scholarly role, because really, he could not take this.
At least he stood, but rather than rush forth to attack, Lu Ten waited to see what his opponent would do. Would this one be more like his aunt and mother? Or more like the pridelander siblings he'd watched tussle? Time would tell, "Let's get this over with then," he drawled, and the way he squinted up at the sun in a minor glare almost seemed to indicate that no, Lu Ten was not have a Good Day by any definition of the word.
Oh, how he longed for sunset.
Krysin
