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He wasn't a fool, that much she had decided. Whatever Balthier was remained to be seen but even through his playful smiles she could see he was too aware of himself and his place int his pride. He was not a lion to be consumed, no lamb to be sacrificed to demons.

A large part of her simply wanted to break him.

Would it not have been delightful to see him quivering in her shadows? Even the thought of it pulled her usually grim face into a wide, lazy smile. There was nothing quite so delicious in the world as the face of someone that feared her and, yet..

What fun would he be if he was broken?

So far she had enjoyed the tiny glimpses of a fighter somewhere beneath that striped pelt. Not so much that she would have mourned his loss but enough that she knew he would not be quite so pleasing a companion if she stripped him down to the bones.

Decisions, decisions.

The dark lioness flicked her tail as she raked her bright eyes up to the sky, judging the time by the slant of sunlight filtered through the trees just outside the mouth of her den. He would be arriving anytime, or she hoped so for his sake. Today they were hunting.

Balthier knew better than to be late. He prided himself on being a punctual lion. In fact, he prided himself over being an exceptional Sador. Not indisposable, not yet; but his usefulness did have the masters hesitating over grim choices regarding his future. Smiling to himself and enjoying the crisp, not yet heated morning, he dodged his eyes politely at the morning goers that had a demon name, smirking and greeting more casually those of light pelts that shared rank with him.

He had expected Makri to be asleep by the time he got there. So, it was quite a shock to see her awake and visible from her den. Slightly panicked that he had mistaken the time, he looked towards the horizon with wide eyes before relaxing. No, he was not late. Quickly, he covered the brief panic with a lazy expression and small grin, bowing lowly. He had met a master or two who knew his extravagent bow as patronizing and it was that, to a point. But he didn't want to displease this mistress; really, he wanted to just test the waters and find the limits.

"A very lovely morning, mistress," he breezed to the ground a mere inch from his chin before straightening up. "I suppose we'll be having an early start?"

A smirk tugged her marred face at the lazy expression though her eyes narrowed above it at the bow; It was the same as ever, too deep, too mocking. It made her tail twitch at her side in that typical whip of concealed irritation but she said naught of it, simply let him think it unnoticed. He might have been one to push his luck but she was willing to bide her time, test just how much ground he thought to steal from her.

His recknoning would come, swift and sure, as soon as she knew what limits were placed upon her in the pride. Even demons had rules, she knew.

"Oh, yes. I'm not familiar with the lands so I expect to scout a great deal, learn the herds and their behaviors. It's always good to know where to find your meals."

The purple lioness was up and on her paws without a second's hesitation, stepping past him as she had done the first day and simply expecting him to fall in line behind her. She knew where the borders of the pride lay, having entered them herself none too recently. At least beyond the pride heart she felt more at ease and in her own atmosphere.

"Tell me," she called back to him after they had been walking a moment, "what punishments have you been dealt, Balthier?"

He quickly fell into step with her, once again keeping a pace behind her while still remaining by her side. He was starting to enjoy waking up early before dawn and taking the long walk to Makri's den each morning. His small den was on the other far side of the pride and it did take a bit to get to her side. But he also took the long way, enjoying the sights of early morning.

He was quite content on just following her, consumed in his own thoughts, when she asked him a question. A question that gave him pause, had him missing a step before he quickly sped up to correct his mistake. Glancing at her, he tried to consider what her ploy was.

Why ask him that? Genuine curiousity? No... that couldn't be it, not with this mistress. Learning what she can do and what she cannot do? Figuring out his past? Getting ideas to use on him. Whatever it was, he couldn't lie. He'd rather not start lying. Especially with something like this. He had the feeling that being caught with one lie would ruin his fun. And it would set him back. Being a confidant made his position in life exciting. And this servitude right now... to this mistress, Makri... it made the days thrilling.
So, he chose to tell the truth, though remain vague. "There a variety of punishments I went through. I'm told I was lucky; the pride had reformed and originally, Sadors were treated more cruelly," he explained carefully before giving her a side glance and putting on a careful grin. "There have been things such as... unpleasant chores. Being scolded. Missed dinners. Mainly, while I was growing up," he told her. He was holding back, of course. He had been hit and gone longer without food. Some masters were crueler than others and didn't care for the reformation. Not many, but he has been assigned to one or two. One in particular enjoyed using thorns. Never striked themselves but sending a sador who had disobeyed or failed expectation to stand in thickets while lecturing them? That was acceptable, in their mind. He wasn't going to explain this, however. The scars on his paws weren't only physical.

"Is there a reason for this question, mistress?" he asked smoothly, his smile not reaching his eyes. He had to step carefully with this tender subject. He didn't know how to read her yet and that made him nervous

The misstep from the pale lion and the sidelong glance he cast her way as he spoke did not go unnoticed by Makri but her eyes remained steady ahead of them, trailing the horizon as they walked and he talked, letting him finish his answer. Outwardly, she gave no indication that aught was amiss in his behavior. Inwardly, she was amused at his faltering. He was always so very careful and calculated - playing this game with him was almost better than cornering prey. Almost.

"Were you a very bad cub, Balthier?" There was a hint of laughter at the end of her words though it was much more mocking than light hearted. She had no doubt that a sador's life growing up was a bit more strict than her parents had ever subjected her to. Her father, in particular, could never even bring himself to punish her for being.. well, herself.

At last she turned her head from watching the distance, settling her amethyst eyes on his paler form. That upturn at one corner of her maw had returned, stretching wicked amusement across her demon's face, and her eyes held a clear hint of something both malicious and pleased.

"Oh, of course. All questions have a purpose, don't they?" And clearly she meant to let him in on exactly none of it's reasoning. He was a smart lion, she knew, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she was doing her best to figure out the ins and outs of this new pride she had taken root in. A large part of her success at blending into the culture was due to him, after all.

"Let's talk about this blood ritual," she moved on from the subject, dismissing his question with her next command, "explain it."

"I was a curious cub," he replied, still uneasy. He didn't like talking about himself too much and was trying to keep it vague. She was enjoying herself. Did she know about his discomfort? That... ruffled him, miffed him. Never had his own methods been turned on him. Quickly, he pasted on his lazy grin, giving an insolent wink. "And naughty, I suppose," he added playfully, trying to make it less serious.

She wasn't going to give him a break, however. But he was determined to not slip again. "That they do," he replied easily. His mind was calculating the possibilities as to why she would want to know. But his attention was drawn once again.

"Blood ritual," he murmured, surprised she asked. Before rememebering that she hadn't been in the pride for very long. "Well, we believe there is strength in blood. When we hunt, we consume the blood. Blood carries one's strength and by taking that blood into our body, we take our prey's strength into our body, becoming stronger. Allegedly." he pointed out lastly. He wasn't a devout to the ideology and usually, he would hold his tongue on allowing his opinion of the tradition from slipping out. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Then, there is sharing blood. Trading blood with another lion, they become one. Bonded. It's a very... personal and intimate things and I haven't met many have practiced it," he informed her before giving a smirk. "Is that something that you would be interested in?" Balthier asked vaguely, toeing the line once again. Personally, he detested the idea of bonding. It was too personal. To be tied to one person... he couldn't do it. As a Sador, he served many masters and mistresses. He wasn't bound to one. In some ways, that made his position a relief; not many would think to trade blood with a sador.

Allegedly.

That word did not settle lightly on her ears, though she did not press him for the meaning. Such phrasing meant doubt and doubt meant that he was not as devout as the old ones. Was it perhaps his station in life or would he have been so doubting given a dark pelt and a chance to be something greater? It was one more little note scrawled beneath his name in her thoughts, one of the pieces that made up who he was. Once, when she were younger, she might have dismissed it but after many years under Do'al's figurative wing she knew that each curiosity in a personality was a tool to be remembered. Something told her that Baltheir would serve her a lot better, too, if she knew how all his little pieces fit together.

"I can't say that I have ever felt a bond so deeply with another that I would ever have the need of such a practice, but it is good to know that it exists." Because that inevitably meant that some individuals in the pride would always come as a pair for whatever purpose they were needed. Very, very interesting indeed.

As they approached the border of the pride's heart and began to make their first steps out into the open territory that it claimed for hunting and sustenance, Makri found herself wondering on all the little intricacies of their differences. Without a doubt, she was expected to behave as a demon, consuming the blood and strength of her kills.

"And what of you, my pet? Does your kind share all the same traditions or are you ignored because of what you lack?" Her mischevous eyes did turn on him then, staring at him sidelong where he paced just behind her shoulder.

Balthier gave her a grin, relieved. That was definitely good. Not that he was interested; she was appealing, in her own dark way, but he liked observing relationships, not having them. Rather... a pair of masters were harder to deal with than a single one. Less treachery and suspicioun. Though, there was gossip. And he loved hearing gossip.

His blood ran cold at being called her pet. It made him wary. She didn't seem the type. No... she was testing him. Digging here and there about him. She seemed the careful type. Especially with how she asked questions. This one was dangerous. Perhaps it would have been better to be a simple and silent sador, under the radar. He had his own skeletons in his closet that he refused to let be known. He couldn't let them be known.

"My kind being my rank, correct?" he murmured lightly, keeping his expression open with a small smile upon his maw. "I also don't find myself particularly... lacking, just different," he added. This was untrue, of course. One couldn't grow up as a sador all their life, unable to obtain their demon name, and not feel a sense of lacking. A sense of unworthiness. But he buried those insecurities deep, nestled beside his own dark secrets. "From what I know, we share most of the same traditions; it wouldn't be right for the sadors to have their own individual traditions, would it?" he mused before shrugging. "Aegnor'hini believe in strength, unity, and obedience. Sadors are expected to also follow this ideology, more so the obedience. Sadors do not have a true name, however," Balthier explained.

Makri only nodded for him to continue as he posed the query and then looked once more head of them, beginning to scan the horizon for any signs of movement that might indicate a herd in the distance. Even while she concentrated on her purpose she found herself listening, drawn to a peaceful focus by the drone of his words near her ear.

Just different, indeed. She nearly smirked at the phrase but contained it, refusing to break her gaze from where she sought their meal.

"You would be surprised how other prides treat their slaves and the members that they find lacking, I think. There are a good many that do have their own traditions, for better or worse." Some much, much worse. Thinking back to where she and her brother had travelled and all the places they had seen, she thought it was luck that he had not been born elsewhere. "That pretty coat of yours would have earned you much worse than dealing with me in some lands."

Of a sudden, she paused, and turned her bright eyes to meet his. They were face to face in split moments and she levelled a hard gaze on his. Away from the pride and ears, she had to wonder how far his obedience went.

"Why have you never thought to leave, Balthier?"

He was going to retort that he would probably not be surprised, that he had heard of how Aegnor was before it was Aegnor. About how he experienced the bit of cruelity and that death would have been a relief in those times. But he chose to be quiet. He was already giving away too much and he was quickly learning that this mistress was quicker to catch on. She was studying him, dissecting him. It left him nervous and he wasn't quite sure why.

Pretty coat nearly had him grinning. He opened his mouth to reply back when she suddenly stopped and turned towards him. His smirk faltered, unease flittering through him. And then the question. The question he was hoping no one would ask, the question he couldn't answer. And so, he gave his well practiced reply. "Because this is my home," he responded with a bit of forced chirpiness.

There was no mistaking the falter or the discomfort that swallowed him. If it had been at any other time, she might have relished in the ability to pick him apart piece by little piece, digging into his thoughts and worming her way so deeply in him that he second guessed everything that he was. However, there was an overwhelming sense of disappointment. What good was worming her way into his thoughts if it did not produce the answers she wanted?

"Of course it is," she responded dryly, making no attempts at all to feign pleasure at his response. She had wanted somewhat more from him, something braver, something to cling to. "And we all love our homes."

She leveled a long, lasting stare on him and then turned on her heel with a resounding 'tut' under her breath. She was disappointed and she would have him know, even if she began to carry on as if she'd never asked.

"At least you've a sense of loyalty, I suppose."

She was disappointed. Balthier winced as he followed after her, careful to not let her see his reaction. Obviously, she wanted a bit more... spark and not the usual answer.

Her next statement made him smirk. He rolled his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I would call it a sense of caution," he replied easily. He should have left it at what she said. But her disappointment did rub him wrong. And he didn't want her thinking that he was a mindless pride member. Not that he should care about her opinion. Though, a greater opinion could earn him favors in the long run.

Ahead of them, Makri could see the faint outlines of a herd on the horizon, carelessly grazing in the morning sun. Luck was on their side for they were down wind - notable by the first scent of the beasts, heady and thick with the smell of a favored grazing ground.

Somewhere in the back of her thoughts she let his words mull though outwardly she was already hunching down low in the grasses, keen on hiding herself as quickly as possible. Somewhat about what he said suggested that he was not telling her the truth - something that both irked and surprised her. He let slip just enough to suggest he was giving recited, careful answers. He didn't trust her and she couldn't have blamed him.

But she wanted to rip apart that carefully crafted exterior all the same.

"Let us hope so, pet, because I would very much hate to lose my breakfast."

Without another word or backward glance, she began to pick her careful way forward, head lost to her hunt.