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Oct. 14th, 2006 | 06:05 pm
mood: weirdweird
music: Attack on Rue Plumet - Les Mis
posted by: felina_sandhya in thepride

I've been meaning to post this for a while...but have been very busy. Anyway, this is the...vision? I have of the origin of Werelions, specifically. As to other weres, I couldn't say.

It began with a girl, as such things often do. Her clan were nomads, following the herds of animals they needed to survive. At one campsite, the clan happened to enter a lion Pride's territory. The girl was gathering edible plants one day, when there, not twenty feet in front of her, was the patriarch of the Pride. He was lying under a tree, watching her.

They stared at each other for a while, before he lazily stood and ambled in her direction. She didn't move. He came closer, until she could almost touch him. And part of her wanted to, no matter how stupid the notion was. He seemed almost to be appraising her. They stood like this a little longer, before he lazily pawed the air between them, and left.

The girl returned to her clan, but didn't tell anyone about it. She had no idea why she hadn't been eaten, and...she wanted to go back.

The next day, she went out on the pretense of gathering wood, and made her way back to the lion-tree. The whole Pride was there this time: the male, three females, and assorted cubs, hard to count due to their restless movement. The adults were lying in the shade, but all of them were watching her. The insane part of her took over, and she walked towards them. They continued to stare at her, but didn't move. Finally, she was right beside the tree, surrounded by golden bodies. She was suddenly tired, and laid down with them.

Her absence was noticed, and her father and brother went searching for her. They saw the lions, scared them off with shouting, and found the girl. They knew that something had changed, that she wasn't theirs anymore, at least not completely. They consulted the clan's wise man, who told them the girl was tainted, and had to be killed. They didn't listen to him, and treated her as normal when she returned.

But she was no longer content. Every day, she would return to the lions. Some days she wouldn't come back at all. A month passed, and no one saw her. But the Pride had a new lioness.

When she died, the magic of her transformation spread, even to others untouched by lions. They, too, possessed the human/lion soul. This was a long time ago, when magic was stronger and more literal. People could change, then (or so I believe).

When the Romans spread through Africa and Europe, they overheard the legends of the lion-people, the wolf-people, those who were neither human or animal. These were prized above all others as gladiators--instead of needing a man and a beast, they had both. The lions, were and pure, were all but slaughtered, especially in Europe. Luckily, the original lion-spirit didn't need to be transferred by blood, so it survived.

And that, my friends, is why there are so very few werelions.

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Comments {2}

Vincent Skye

(no subject)

from: lionskye
date: Oct. 18th, 2006 05:24 pm (UTC)

Hmm....very interesting. It does give an entertaining idea as to why there so few werelions. I originally didn't there were so few, until I realized that there were (at least online).

I like it. :)

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(no subject)

from: cougiaurmeh
date: May. 16th, 2007 01:45 pm (UTC)

I love that story!!! It also reminds me of a native american tale about a young woman who would go out into the mustang herds and ride with them increasingly more until she became one of them. Just like your story. I wonder if there's a cougar-myth/legend/fable/tale out there too. Gotta look fer it. XD

It's been a long time, friend. Miss ya alot. *purrrr*

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