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"why did you help me ?"

↪     𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑩𝑰𝑫 ᶜᵘʳᶤᵒˢᶤᵗʸ .    (  a  collection  of  various unsorted question prompts .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .   will  be  updated  frequently .  )

Bagheera had only ever heard about tiger pits.

Back at the menagerie, many men walked around, gazing at the animals like those were mere paintings, objects created for their entertainment, while the animals outside of those cages were trophies, born to be hunted down by them. Either way, possessions. But mankind had a knack for coming up with more and more elaborate ways of making the hunt easier for themselves. Dogs, horses... and TRAPS.

Whoever had dug up this tiger pit had done so specifically for Shere Khan, it seemed.

Bagheera had merely been following him to bother him. Always toeing the like, never crossing it. Knowing when to push and when to relent– it was a game in itself, finding out just how much she could get away with when it came to the feared tiger. Wondering if it was because she was the only other feline in this part of the jungle, and that might make him tolerate her a little more than he did the wolves, the monkeys or the bear.

She had stopped on her tracks upon noticing fresh dirt scattered on the ground, dark and rich with insects that tended to burrow themselves deep; and an uncharacteristic amount of leaves equally scattered ahead, completely clear of any of this fresh grime. Merely an odd sight for those who didn't know any better.

She remembered a man who had come from far away to try to buy her from the menagerie and had boasted about his tricks. Remembered his words as if he were whispering them in her ear right that moment:

When you dig a tiger, pit you want to scatter the dirt. Don't leave mounds of it, the beasts aren't stupid.

The full weight of Bagheera's body slammed against Khan's side, the force of it rattling through her bones in a way that threatened to be felt for days.

"A tiger pit!" The words left her quickly, and almost as quickly she moved away from the tiger to keep her throat intact. Moved to push a rock with a paw, make it roll towards the fresher leaves, and watch it all sink into a hole that ended in many sharpened sticks pointing towards the sky, waiting for something heavy to fall upon them.

As she gazed upon it, she was already thinking about all the trouble such a trap could cause, how Mowgli could help cover this hole– how whoever dug it would come back for their 'prize' sooner than later. Green eyes gazing around with paranoia until Khan spoke.

Bagheera turned to him, looking at him like he had just asked something crazy, as if SHE wasn't the one who had just done something crazy.

@cavetigrim SAID

His whole life, Safed had been all too aware of the fact his coloration was an inconvenience. Not only did he not blend in with his surroundings as efficiently nor as easily as the rest of the jungle's inhabitants, to the point that even the wolves' brat had an easier time hiding from view than he did, but he'd also come to realize that man found him fascinating. Attracting man's attention in any way was always a threat to the people of the jungle.

But man, even in groups, were easy to get away from, they were slow and as clumsy as the deer's spawn. The REAL problem was the dogs.

Those mutts, while smaller than the wolves and much less intelligent, counted with all the instincts and loyalty that one would find in any member of the Seeonee pack. But they were loyal to man and nothing else, and when they were let loose with the order to get the tiger, they stopped at nothing to achieve that.

Safed wasn't proud to admit that they had overwhelmed him. He had the strength and determination of any juvenile tiger, but he also had the inexperience. He'd limped his way back after getting away, exhausted. His usually white and black coat stained with blood that didn't belong only to his assaulters. One of the damn mutts had gotten him good. Not enough to deal a mortal wound, but enough to make Safed see his life flash before his eyes as the dog's jaws had closed around the back of his neck and punctured flesh before he managed to shake and swat it off. The blood painted his fur a shade of red. It was the closest he'd ever get to normal tigers' tawny coats.

The vultures found him first, most likely attracted by the scent of blood. Even if those small-brained opportunists were circling him, which offended him greatly, there was also some comfort in seeing them, as they never flew too far from Khan.

He had to admit, he'd feared his father's reaction. But then Khan spoke, directing his anger not at him, but at man, and Safed straightened where he had up until now sat slightly hunched, the only position that didn't make his neck feel as if the red flower was being slowly poured into him through the dog's bite.

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

@mxncub

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Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

@cavetigrim

Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question.

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Answer that question.

@cavetigrim said:

❝ you’re in danger, and i can save us. ❞

The tiger's words caught her off guard. Bagheera watched him, trying to read those burnt, usually cold and calculating features in search for something that would tell her what prompted such words from Shere Khan of all animals. She'd always felt a sort of solidarity directed at him from the fact they were the two biggest felines that inhabited the area, but she'd never expected him to feel similar in any way, shape or form. Then again, Shere Khan was known for being unpredictable.

"That's very sweet of you, worrying about me," she hummed. The look in her emerald green eyes hardened with guarded curiosity. "Sweet, but strange."

Bagheera motioned with her head for him to follow. "Walk with me, Khan," she requested. "I feel this will be the kind of conversation one has to have in motion."

Her life among men and the rough introduction to nature had gifted the panther with bravery beyond what many would consider wise for an animal. It was what made her relate to Mowgli, he too was far too bold for his own good. As for Bagheera, few things could cause such a feeling in her, but she was far from naive, and if there was something that had Shere Khan of all animals talking about saving them, plural, she at least had to give him the benefit of listening.

@kongebjorn said:

❝ tell me what it is you are. what are you? ❞

If someone'd told her that the decisions she'd made would lead to this, Bagheera would have thought them to be crazy. Yet here she was, farther away from her home in the jungle than she should have ever been able to be, and facing a white beast that wore armor.

An intimidating sight, she could admit that much. But she wouldn't show it.

"I am Bagheera. The panther," she stated, holding her head high with pride.

She studied the creature before her. Familiar yet at the same time so bizarre. He resembled a bear in some ways, but possessed traits she wasn't used to seeing in any bear. Bagheera was aware both from her cubhood with humans and from the time spent in the jungle that there were different kinds of bears, but whatever kind he was, he would have been completely out of place near the jungle.

Prompt List: Enemies to Lovers Edition

Bagheera's emerald green gaze travelled to the door that'd just closed, then back to Shere Khan. She tilted her head slightly at his words. "Now, I'm surprised by how well you can read me in such little time. That's impressive."

She stood from her seat on one of his office's couches. Due to their association, it'd become more and more of an occurrence for her to linger around him whenever they could spare each other the time; slowly, the meetings were turning ever so slightly less professional while also keeping a symbolic arm's distance with each other for the sake of what little professionalism they continued to keep.

"I understand that you're not particularly fond of Baloo," she started, never one to beat around the bush. "But I would appreciate it if you could at least pretend to tolerate him when we're both around– you know, the way you pretend to tolerate having reporters so determined to find out about your private life they might as well ask you how many stripes you have. Because he's my friend."

She reached out, fixing the collar of Khan's suit jacket before her eyes met his once more.