Jarujan had grown accustomed to the ways of the Firekin much faster than he had thought he would. Granted, he had spent many a day on the outskirts of their lands, frustratedly trying to earn his place among them but that was not the same as truly belonging and being accepted. Life had been a little tense at first as the great warriors grew accustomed to seeing him within their midst and he supposed that was how it should have been. After all, they did not accept weakness and besting one of their members in battle was not enough to prove that someone would be worth their weight in such an unforgiving climate. He appreciated that, a little. At least here there was the right to earn a better name and appreciation for himself. Home, well, home would have slit a lion's throat just for being too green.

He huffed to himself as he lowered his lips to the watering hole, swallowing the refreshing liquid quickly and letting it sink, cold and pleasant, in the pit of his stomach. It was strange how quickly something like fresh, cold water had become so important to him. The thought brought a gentle smirk to his face as he sat up, letting the drops of water slip from his chin and back into the pool, leaving behind circles that spread from their epicenters.

Only, as his eyes swiveled up to take in the dry, sandy landscape that had been barren scarce moments before, they settled instead upon a pair of wide, golden eyes.

"What the-" he hissed between clenched teeth, immediately growing tense and letting the fur along his spine bristle as he sank low into his haunches, on guard. Strangers were not meant to be here and though the colors of his pelt seemed to almost fit with the pride's requirements, this male did not look at all like a Firekin - his yellow was too bright, his orange too yellow, and his horns-

Wait.

The viscious expression of his face dulled as the male across the pond from him stood taller and spread a pair of large, owlish wings. It framed the sun over his head and cast Jarujan into spattered shadow as he stood there, gawking at what he knew instantly to be a god. Unlike his newfound brothers and sisters, he could not discount their existence; they were real. His mother was of their kind. Whether or not they were truly gods in the sense of controlling this realm, of having some part in their creation, that he did not know.

"Who are you?" Though his tone had dulled from its razor's edge, it was still harsh.

In answer, the god's lips only quirked a bit. It was enough of an expression for Jarujan to see that they were actually sewn together, something done too deftly for a lion's paws. It made his stomach want to roll in his gut and he could not hide the instant grimace that spread across his features but the male only continued to watch him, staring out from a pair of pupilless eyes that never wavered and seemed, almost, to glow of their own accord. He truly did seem an owl then, except for the horns atop his head that were doused in beads, clattering with every- no. They weren't clattering. As Jarujan's eyes roamed the beads that dangled and jostled against one another, he realized that there was not an ounce of noise that came from this other creature. Was that how he had snuck up upon him so easily?

The god rounded the watering hole slowly, drawing ever closer and showing the vast difference in size between even a god and a demigod. Jarujan tensed but, logically, realized that if this male meant him harm it was probaly going to be little contest. What was the point of running or being afraid? He was already gotten. As the dry grass parted beneath the male's feet and his wings shifted back to lie flat against his side, there was still nothing about him that seemed to make a sound. Jarujan's brows narrowed and dropped back to his eyes which seemed now, somehow, full of mirth. No, he did not think this was a viscious god.

"You are very quiet."

Those simple four words made the god before him smile as widely as he could with the stitches that criss crossed his mouth and his head dipped to settle him into a bow - it was a greeting if Jarujan had ever seen one.

"You are the god of.. quietness?" He wondered aloud, earning him a quick jerk of the other male's head. The white god made a peculiar face as he tilted his head, considering something, before he finally nodded and shrugged at once. Was that.. a yes? "Uh, alright then. I'm Jarujan, of the Firekin."

It felt good to say the words out loud at last, naming his heritage as a lion of fire and might, not one of spirits and death. It was a part of his past he was glad to shed, at last. The pride must have been pouring off of him in waves because the god nodded vehemently at him. He sat and brought both forepaws up so that he could clap them together in approval, then made a notion to his own mane before pointing back at Jarujan.

He hesitated, confused.

"What?"

Again, the male gestured at his own mane, then pointed at Jarujan's. When the male still didn't understand, he wavered both paws through the air as if to imitate something rising? waving? Oh!

"Fire? Uh, well, I think they're named for it but it's.. my mane is just coincidental. Well, mostly. My grandmother is.." he paused, trying his damnedest to remember a name he had only heard a scarce few times in passing. His time with his mother had been little and very long ago, back before he truly knew what the world held in store for him. At last, he offered up what he thought he recalled her telling him. "Fanarsi? I think that's it."

It must have been, or close enough, because the white god pulled his nauseating smile into place and nodded his quiet enthusiastically. Quite suddenly, he pushed away the dry grass so that he had a clean spot of sandy earth and began drawing something into the patch. Curious, Jarujan moved closer to see the crude drawing. It must have been something this quiet god did often, and no wonder considering his affliction, because in no time the Firekin found himself staring down at a very rough image of a bird with very, very long tail feathers. Pleased with himself, the male pointed at the image and then, confidently, back at Jarujan.

It took him only a moment to realize he was drawing his mother in her favorite form - the phoenix.

"Yes! Na'ira," he exclaimed, wide eyed. "Do you know her?"

The other male shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. It wasn't enough of an answer suddenly and Jarujan found himself desperate; he had not seen in her so long and he had no way of knowing where she might be. His words began to rush out of him with a passion he could hardly contain.

"Can you tell me where she is? Or tell her where I am? Can you get a message to her?"

The god smiled that same, peculiar smile and shrugged at Jarujan again. There was a moment where anger nearly claimed him as he stared back at those wide, glowing golden orbs. Then, he realized, messages were a hard thing for this male, weren't they? His mother was easy to represent in a crude drawing but how would he manage to explain that her son wanted to see her? All of that passion crumpled in on itself and he sighed, shaking his head.

"Never mind, I understand."

Again, the male shrugged, but reached up to pluck a dangling feather deftly from his antlers. He set it on the ground before Jarujan and then turned, done with this conversation. What might come of it, the Firekin could not say. After all, he was the only one that had done any amount of talking. Regardless, he picked the feather up delicately in his teeth and watched as the god dwindled into the distance, waltzing calmly out into the sands without a care.

(1,408 words)