XXXV

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What a dark cave that is. What a dark cave in the dark woods that is. Might that be whimpering coming from said dark cave in the dark woods? The whimpering of a frightened woman? The black mouth forming the entrance invites those who come across it to find out for themselves. The lion is waiting.

[ooc: With mod permission

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action ][ because the god of the sea needs to meet a jesus lion

[protects_her]

[Sometime after his net-making escapades on the Network, Finnick returns to the woods to resume his search for vines and other materials. He's reasonably armed with his spear, his net, and the borrowed sword from his first day in the City, but he's not looking for trouble--and certainly not for a lion.

The whimpering, however, makes him pause. It's not the one voice in the world that could inspire him to rush to the rescue with reckless abandon, but the sound of a frightened woman hiding in the woods will always hit close to home with him, and he creeps a little closer to see where it might be coming from.]

action ][ aw hells time to be dazzled

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[Closer, closer, closer....too close and Finnick might catch a shine of light in two eyes, if he has a torch on him.]

action ][ get your towels ready it's about to go down

[protects_her]

[No torch on him, alas, but he's slowly making his way closer. That spear in his hand is ready and waiting, though; old habits die hard.]

action ][

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[One...two...three.

The crying of the victim silences, having never existed in the first place. Then there's the movement of a large shape in the shadows and the massive lion leaps for the armed human with a throaty growl.]

action ][

[protects_her]

[Of all the things that Finnick might've been expecting at the moment, a massive lion was probably not one of them. A jabberjay, maybe. An actual wounded woman, possibly. But definitely not a lion.

Fortunately, some things are instinctive, and diving out of the way of danger happens to be one of them. The only question that remains is, whose reflexes are faster? His, or the lion's?]

action ][

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[Swiftness; that's one point in the human's favor. The lion tumbles to the ground, narrowly avoiding the spear point at least. He's out in the moonlight not, gold fur seemingly glowing and teeth bared. There are only two ways out of that cave; one here and one on the other end. Finnick didn't think to block the other side, did he?]

action ][

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[Swiftness may be one of the only things in his favor at the moment, since he is definitely not armed with his favorite weapon at the moment--not that he'd be feeling much more confident about facing down a lion even if he were. But he's going to have to make do as best he can with what he has.

He pulls his net free and shakes it loose with his free hand, never taking his eyes off the lion as he readies himself. He won't win on power, but if his speed doesn't fail him, and he can wait for an opportune moment to strike, he might be able to keep himself alive.]

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[Swift and clever.

Most who face down this beast aim for power or a shot straight to the heart. Few ever think to capture control of the landscape first. Own the limit at which a beast can roam, the better you'll have control of him. The lion dismisses the net as a beast will, but Aslan is taking notes. He knows he should not throw himself at this boy for surely he'll throw the net, but that is what a dumb beast will do. So he attacks. Finnick will come to no harm.]

action ][

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[Hunting lions is not at all an area of Finnick's expertise. If this were a human he were snaring--and indeed, he has ensnared many of them in exactly this way before--he would already have the heart marked as his target, and his spear ready to drive into it as soon as his foe was in reach. But the king of beasts presents an entirely different challenge, not least of which because of the mane and fur covering him over. His strategy will have to adjust accordingly.

When the lion attacks, his arm snaps out, hurling the net he'd spent all day weaving at its face before ducking quickly to the side. If the odds are in his favor, the combination of movements will slow the beast down long enough for him to mark his new target--its eyes.]

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[One of the lion's weapons are now his weakness. Big or small, his claws become tangled in the net in no time. He's on his side trying to shred his way out but the braiding only tangles further, leaving his teeth half as dangerous as they were before being netted. He roars in anger, his eyes open for the taking. Finnick scores the left and it hurts. It hurts so bad the lion stops struggling and yowls in pain. Perhaps this was always the true test; will Finnick slay a monster who no longer wishes to fight?]

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[The yowl of pain resonates within him--how often has he heard that sound, the cry of the wounded and dying? Too often. And not just from the jaws of a lion, but from the mouths of children, and when he was only a child himself. But he has come this far already, and the lion is wounded. One eye lost already. There is no mercy in leaving it alone now, not crippled like this--and turning his back to flee is no answer either, because a maimed enemy is still an enemy, and an angry one at that

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['Impressive' is not the word here. Perhaps there are no words for those who know what they must do in a situation that is neither black nor white. And when blood spills there are ways to do it, ways to deny life without denying dignity or the inevitability of death. He recognizes this quality in Finnick Odair. Although the lion will not speak today, he looks at Finnick, one eye like the sun staring into his sea.

The beast says without saying do not forget to clean your blade.

His broad chest is open like his heart, the part of his pelt that serves no good purpose as armor.]

action ][

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[He's not sure what it is that possesses him to change weapons at that moment. Perhaps it's simply that he doesn't want to risk his handmade spear on a tougher target than an eye, fearing that it may break and prolong the lion's end--or give it a chance to retaliate in the moment of unexpected opportunity. Perhaps it's the way the lion is staring at him, so expectantly, as if it knows its death is held in his hands, at whatever time he may choose to strike. Or perhaps it's because the spear will allow him to be too removed, too distant, from the final killing strike. He favors his sword much less than his spear, but still he draws it into his hand, tests its weight, watches the light as it reflects off the blade

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[Do not hesitate. Falter and the lion may escape at the price of the boy's own life. Do not regret. Regret is guilt and knowing perhaps you did not do the right thing in the first place. Finnick will do what he thinks must be done, for the beast ans for himself. He does not come from a world that treats its own with much kindness. This much Aslan can unravel. If there are lions in his nightmares tonight then so be it, every action has a cause and an effect. These are unavoidable, even knights must bear marks.

The blade slipping between bones, through muscle, and right into the beast's heart evokes a deep and mournful groan. What light there was in the remaining eye goes out within five shallow breaths. What marks this as different from death upon the stone table is his lack of despair.]

action ][

[protects_her]

[He does not shudder as he watches the lion die, nor does he close his eyes to avoid the sight, but the groan does prompt him to grit his teeth as he strives to keep his hand steady. It was only doing as its instincts commanded. And he was only doing what he needed to survive. And while watching its life slip away does leave Finnick with a sense of hollowness inside, he has endured too many horrors already to let this one cripple him now