#ineni

This is what Ineni likes about travelling: Every noon, when the sun rises to its highest, they set up an awning and retreat underneath it, usually by propping up a coat on a couple of poles and securing it with twine. Everyone squeezes into their little piece of shade, Akra and the lions and she, wrapping themselves around each other until they have managed to tuck even the last foot or tail into the shade, and then they doze until the temperature is slightly more bearable again.

This is also what Ineni likes about travelling: Every time after a meal, Amna and Amenhiu are going to try and start a general grooming session. By now, Akra and she are well used to turning their cheeks and ducking their heads in an attempt to escape the rasping tongues. Receiving any kind of affection from their brother and sister usually turns into an accidental wrestling match: Even though they aren’t trying to hurt them, Amna and Amenhiu are much, much stronger and heavier than Akra and Ineni. A lion flopping down on your prone form - because clearly having been knocked over by their happy greeting is an invitation to cuddling! - might be sweet, but it’s still going to crush the air from your lungs.

Still, the lions are gentle with them, and Ineni would not trade their affection for the world. Be it Amna cuddling close in the night, sharing warmth and closeness even though all lions become more active as dusk begins to fall, or Amenhiu throwing a heavy paw over her to pin her in place as he is grooming her: They’re pride, all of them, and no matter how they might growl and snap at each other sometimes, they can be tender too. Affectionate. Loving. 

(Well, the lions can be. Akra is a different story, though Ineni knows how to spot his affection too. It might not seem very sweet of him to kill someone that looked at her funny with his bare hands, but it is touching nevertheless. He’d die for her, the stubborn son of a goat. That is sweet, too, even though they both know he isn’t supposed to. That makes it even sweeter, despite him being all too happy to throw his life away. Such is the life of a priest of the Slaughter.)

This, too, is what Ineni likes about travelling: Turning into an eating house for their midday meal, the lions lying at their feet and waiting lazily for the scraps of meat they know will be handed down to them. Large, big-toothed maws will gently close around their fingers, raspy tongues taking the meat from their hands before the lions let go again, contentedly chewing whatever has been handed down. If there is no meat to be found, they’ll instead lick their fingers clean again or growl and snap at each other over crumbs of bread that have fallen down.

This is their family: a warpriest of the Lady of Slaughter, the cleric assigned to keep him alive and the two lions that amble after them.

Amenhiu’s mane is thick and of so dark a brown, it might very well be black. If he lies down next to you, it is like a blanket if you lean into him. Ineni has slept many a night half-buried underneath it and Amenhiu has flopped onto his side and let her. Amna has tripped Akra on Ineni’s orders more than once. If that hadn’t been enough, she’s simply flopped down right on top of him, which has redirected many a near-killing to a spirited wrestling match between lions and half-orcs. That too is affection.

Amazing Proposal :')