Be Prepared [Complete]

[i-killedmufasa.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Scar, open to anyone
Content: The King of Pride Rock arrives
Setting: Niflheim
Time: dusk
Warnings: Scar's psychosis?


Scar leapt from one rock to the next, taking in every detail of the gate and its long line of two-legged visitors. They received an object at a window, then walked through as if welcomed to a new land. Some seemed overjoyed, others were quite discontent with their lot at being thrown somewhere so unfamiliar and new.

But the lion didn’t care for these people or their circumstances. No, the King of Pride Rock was more interested in just what it was that lay beyond that massive wall, inside that strange structure. There was no way to see in from outside, and it piqued Scar’s curiosity. He raised his head high and roared, then bounded down to the line, tossing people aside until he was in front of the window. He leaned in close, teeth just inches from the greeter’s face, and snarled. “Make it quick.” He bit off the last word, gnashing his sharp fangs together.

The black-maned lion sauntered into the city with his journal held in his mouth, having nowhere else to put it. His haunches swayed as he hummed, examining everything around him. The first thing he noticed was how peculiar some of these creatures smelled…not like meat at all. Scar smiled, laughing to himself. “Paixao, is it? What an interesting name. And such a brilliant place, simply marvelous! Soon, Paixao, you will have a King!”

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[i-killedmufasa.livejournal.com]

The lion's chest heaved with each rasping breath, drawn into troubled lungs. He panted with ragged gasps, sneering and snarling and growling in between each sharp inhalation. His wild eyes were full of fury and wrath, darting back and forth to search for the taunting form of that miserable little wretch who had done this to the King of the Pridelands. But his sense of vision still failed him. Everything was blurred and distorted through their bloodshot field of view, dark rings throbbing forward and back with each heartbeat. All he could smell now was blood. Robbed of both sight and scent, Scar could not tell where the meerkat now hid.

Wracked with pain, the black-maned lion dragged his legs in toward his body, then pushed himself on top of them. As he tried to stand, he found he no longer had the strength to hold his body up. His legs were forced out, and he crashed back to the floor. He scowled and snarled again, then stood up with more determination, his expression proud and strong. He took a pained step forward, placing his paw down onto more of the broken glass, then another. But he kept his facial expression stoic and proud, showing nothing of the strain he was putting on his body. He took his time, and walked outside of the cafe, ignoring everyone and everything around him.

For now, the meerkat had won. Scar could no longer keep up such a physically demanding hunt. He was not his brother. But Timon was also not as smart as he thought. Scar may have given up the chase for today, but that did not mean he would forget the reason for it.