Vanilla

Today, I saw a Lion Kiss a Deer

A/N: Hi Beans! I'm so sorry I was minutes late for the upload. It has been a tough, unbearable week for some of you and I can only hope you are safe and well and that you are the strongest you can be in times as dark as these. I like to think that all humans, regardless of our circumstance, race, ethnicity, gender, religion and sexuality, harbour a greater humanity within and it is in times like these that we must be the light even when the world has none. 

Happy pride month and I am always, always going to be here. I'll see you on Sunday and I hope you enjoy this one.

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"Dude, where have you been?"

Juvenile lion Leroy Cox had only just returned from his fourth playdate for his coalition pride's fortnightly wildebeest hunt, headed by Raul and himself. The former had taken notice of his friend's absence nearing sundown as of late, the likely cause of the odd spark in his eyes, no longer housing an empty darkness but the single flame of a candle.

At present, mental indecent fingers were being exchanged between the two, a playful nod at their eventful, roguish lives that never seemed to be without a streak of excitement. No one knew about his unlikely friend; how was one to explain a companionship they found in another that was, by the very laws of nature, prey? In no world were lions friends with deer. No reality allowed for such bending of the rules for that itself would've meant the re-writing of the story and thus a greater extent of control over the creator themselves.

But there was no denying the soothing company of falling snow—surprisingly eager to share in the midst of what felt very much like quiet joy. Dear was unexpectedly fond of play, easily excited by a random herb near the vernal pond in which he'd soon expound the properties of despite claims of preferring to be alone. Without his companion, there was no sharing of knowledge; no rambling on about the flowers and the trees and the humans living on the edge of the forest.

Leroy was no born listener. 'Conversations' would've placed somewhere on the upper third of his list of dislikes but 'Idiots' took the cake, and little white stag was the extreme opposite of one—which ultimately made conversations with him immensely enjoyable. There were times he'd casually point out the weaknesses of the predators after him, knowing exactly when and where he should be heading for a quick escape.

"Ah. Marsh terrain, rippled on the edges, do you see?" He'd stopped the lion in his tracks, pointing out a seemingly flat, soil-like, ordinary piece of land a mile away from their usual play spot. "And if you look closely, bubbles. Rising to the surface. That's likely quicksand. Looks completely harmless and sometimes, even bearing a resemblance to the grounds of an ordinary grassland but when pressure is applied, it liquifies. Meaning, you'd start sinking if you stepped in it."

He'd trotted away soon after, beckoning for his companion to follow as though they were touring exhibitions at one of those human museums and this was either a lovely little date or Leroy had scored himself a cute, ten-out-of-ten museum guide. There was nothing about any terrain or element of the natural world that the fallow deer did not know, seemingly having unlimited access to a whole world of knowledge that, before their encounter, had been completely beyond the juvenile lion's realm of awareness.

There were times he'd caught himself unable to remove his gaze from the eyes that were sometimes the sparkling, shimmering surface of a summer pool and sometimes, the dark, deep depths of the seas at night—a perfect contrast against the gentle, soothing land of snow on his back.