Post by Malkia on Feb 5, 2016 17:59:02 GMT -5
(April 5th. Open to Simba and Malkia, but may open up to other members of the army once the thread progresses! Alt. title; Simba gets put on the naughty step)
Enough was enough.
The third sunrise since the darkness had been banished was now breaking over the Pridelands. The army was once again busy; the lionesses had gone off on their hunt, a training session had began in the grounds below, the soldiers not in attendance to that were lining up in the mash tent for their breakfast where the dutiful cooks were serving them, or otherwise were out on border patrol. Yes, Malkia thought to herself as he climbed the slope to Pride Rock once again, everyone in the army was busy.
Except it's leader.
Malkia could not remember the last time she had seen or personally talked too the King of the Pridelands (before her reunion with Kula perhaps?). He shut himself away in his den constantly, only in the company of his mate and only cub. But even Kion was frequently seen bounding around Pride Rock, asking what he could do to help (Nala, she felt, had a reasonable excuse to not want to show her face). But Simba had a responsibility to uphold, and was letting his people down in not doing so. She wondered if he had even noticed the darkness come and go. The Hero army was, to speak, a snake without a head, and headless snakes could not bite.
It was cruel irony that it had taken Malkia losing an eye for her to see how the King was now neglecting his Kingdom. For a year, the war had in a way, not been real to her. Yes she had lost many friends, and many more had been attacked or mutilated, but she personally, had always been able to bulldoze her way through any pack of savage animals, any front-line of humans with guns, without too much of a problem. The loss of her eye had made the war real. No matter how she viewed herself, she was not invincible.
For the first day after her eye-loss, the pain had indeed been unbareable. But she had made sure that everyone else who needed it got medical attention before she was even looked at. The wound was cleaned up, and the pain, while still there, had more or less dulled by now. She was out there fighting on the front lines, so was Kula, and Clopin, Bambi, Stitch, and all the others. So where was the Great Lion himself?
It was not that Simba was a bad King. Post-Scar in fact, things had been taking a fantastic turn for the better. He was shaping up to be the next Mufasa, and his mother, Sarafina, Malkia herself, and all the others could not have been more proud of him. But he had lost his will somewhere along the way. It could be issues with his Father, for he had seemed to have long resolved them. So was it to do with Nala and the dog? No, Simba had began to seclude himself before even that. Perhaps it was just the overall pressure that was getting to him.
Well, Kings had to deal with pressure. Malkia had heard the whisperings among the heroes about their unhappiness with their leader, but only she so far had gone to confront him head-on about it. If a mentor, teacher, adviser, and motivator was what he needed, like hell was Malkia going to give him one. Wether he asked for it or not.
She came to the mouth of the cave where the Pride slept, or had slept, since they were all out hunting at the moment. Perfect, that set the scene nicely for Malkia's task. Peering into the darkness, she could not see Simba or his family, so he would have to be called upon.
"Your Majesty." she boomed suddenly, announcing her presence. Her body casting a long shadow over the sunlit floor of the cave as she stood infront of the great life-giver, obscuring her own body in darkness. Her words were not used as a sign of respect, but as a jolting reminder to the responsibility on his red-maned shoulders.
This was not a lowly subject, humbly requesting an audience with their great and terrible mysterious King. This was a stern, stoic, wrinkly old teacher, calling sharply on her pupil for not attending enough classes.
"A word."
Enough was enough.
The third sunrise since the darkness had been banished was now breaking over the Pridelands. The army was once again busy; the lionesses had gone off on their hunt, a training session had began in the grounds below, the soldiers not in attendance to that were lining up in the mash tent for their breakfast where the dutiful cooks were serving them, or otherwise were out on border patrol. Yes, Malkia thought to herself as he climbed the slope to Pride Rock once again, everyone in the army was busy.
Except it's leader.
Malkia could not remember the last time she had seen or personally talked too the King of the Pridelands (before her reunion with Kula perhaps?). He shut himself away in his den constantly, only in the company of his mate and only cub. But even Kion was frequently seen bounding around Pride Rock, asking what he could do to help (Nala, she felt, had a reasonable excuse to not want to show her face). But Simba had a responsibility to uphold, and was letting his people down in not doing so. She wondered if he had even noticed the darkness come and go. The Hero army was, to speak, a snake without a head, and headless snakes could not bite.
It was cruel irony that it had taken Malkia losing an eye for her to see how the King was now neglecting his Kingdom. For a year, the war had in a way, not been real to her. Yes she had lost many friends, and many more had been attacked or mutilated, but she personally, had always been able to bulldoze her way through any pack of savage animals, any front-line of humans with guns, without too much of a problem. The loss of her eye had made the war real. No matter how she viewed herself, she was not invincible.
For the first day after her eye-loss, the pain had indeed been unbareable. But she had made sure that everyone else who needed it got medical attention before she was even looked at. The wound was cleaned up, and the pain, while still there, had more or less dulled by now. She was out there fighting on the front lines, so was Kula, and Clopin, Bambi, Stitch, and all the others. So where was the Great Lion himself?
It was not that Simba was a bad King. Post-Scar in fact, things had been taking a fantastic turn for the better. He was shaping up to be the next Mufasa, and his mother, Sarafina, Malkia herself, and all the others could not have been more proud of him. But he had lost his will somewhere along the way. It could be issues with his Father, for he had seemed to have long resolved them. So was it to do with Nala and the dog? No, Simba had began to seclude himself before even that. Perhaps it was just the overall pressure that was getting to him.
Well, Kings had to deal with pressure. Malkia had heard the whisperings among the heroes about their unhappiness with their leader, but only she so far had gone to confront him head-on about it. If a mentor, teacher, adviser, and motivator was what he needed, like hell was Malkia going to give him one. Wether he asked for it or not.
She came to the mouth of the cave where the Pride slept, or had slept, since they were all out hunting at the moment. Perfect, that set the scene nicely for Malkia's task. Peering into the darkness, she could not see Simba or his family, so he would have to be called upon.
"Your Majesty." she boomed suddenly, announcing her presence. Her body casting a long shadow over the sunlit floor of the cave as she stood infront of the great life-giver, obscuring her own body in darkness. Her words were not used as a sign of respect, but as a jolting reminder to the responsibility on his red-maned shoulders.
This was not a lowly subject, humbly requesting an audience with their great and terrible mysterious King. This was a stern, stoic, wrinkly old teacher, calling sharply on her pupil for not attending enough classes.
"A word."
