hanging by a thread

One Chance

/ [member=321]melantha[/member] [member=1391]DANTE NORTHWEST.[/member]

It was about time he called forward Melantha and Dante. The two showed promise, and he was not going to let their dedication go without reward. So he had sent a slave to go and fetch the two for him, as he needed time to prepare the leader's den. The two would, of course, find him in the Pyramid of the Sun. The largest pyramid that was befitting for a leader. Two, even. So he cleaned his room up a bit, just so he could come off as presentable. A leader had to be clean, didn't they?

code by spacexual

♛ SMOKED A PACK OR TWO, IT NEVER WAS A PROBLEM —

Dante at first didn't really pay attention to the slave that had been sent for him, until the slave mentioned that Yes Man was looking for him. Immediately, the hybrid had set off towards the Pyramid, leaving the slave wherever he had been to head towards the leader's den. "You called?" Dante rumbled as he neared the entrance of the Pyramid, dipping his head slightly in greeting to Yes Man.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px darkorange; font-size: 24px;"]— DANTE♛

#psychosocial.

One Chance

At the voice of the hybrid, Yes Man stopped polishing a ruby he held firmly in his paws and quickly set it down. The savannah then turned to him, blinking. "Dante! There you are, kiddo! I'd say something to you if not for the fact that I'm waiting for someone else to come." He said cheerfully, grinning wide at the hybrid. "Make yourself at home while we wait! I can send a slave to fetch you a bite to eat, if you so desire."

code by spacexual

[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt; width: 60%; text-align: justify;"]Very little bothers Melantha. Cannibalism does not shock her, nor does violence. Torture, though she prefers to avoid it if possible, is an expected component of deriving information from the enemy. But slavery? Perhaps it is her pride, her extreme sense of independence, which makes it difficult for the powerful huntress to ignore the immorality of being forced to live as less than a person. Nature possesses a way enacting a hierarchy wherever people live together in a group, so Mel does not see the necessity of a group beneath everyone else. Besides, why would Melantha need a slave to do something she can handle on her own? And if not, she can ask someone else in exchange for a favor? Without even taking a moral standpoint, slavery just feels like a step backwards.

Waste of time, waste of potential, waste of natural efficiency within a cohesive unit, and just plain disturbing.

But it is not the solitary creature's job to question the ethics of the practices common in the Pitt. She is merely a soldier, a single cog in the machine. So she holds her tongue and operates as usual. Alone, without the aid of slaves. Mel cannot be considered kind or good, but she is decent enough to treat the slaves like normal people. "Uh, thanks," the mountain lioness replies awkwardly after a tiny she-cat relays Yes Man's message. Melantha was in the middle of eating, and as she is not one to waste good food, she passes the scraps to the slave. "Waste not, want not," says the female in a bland tone before walking away without another glance at the messenger.

It takes longer for the golden wildcat to arrive than Dante, for Melantha tends to lurk within the outskirts of the territory and avoids areas where many people congregate. She isn't sure why, but she hates large groups. Innate paranoia and suspicion make her wary of unfamiliar faces, and she does not function well when she receives unwanted attention. But she arrives in a reasonable amount of time, chiseled muscles rippling beneath a sleek pelt of sandy gold as the cougaress silently approaches. "Yes Man. Dante." The greeting is curt, accompanied by little more than a polite inclination of the head before she moves to stand at a respectful distance from the ardent.

One Chance

And there was the lovely Melantha. Yes Man did a small bow before straightening up and clearing is throat. "Okay kiddos, I've brought you here for a reason. I'm gonna get straight to the point so I don't keep you here any longer in case you both have things you'd rather be doing. I'm promoting you two to strong arms. It's a secret police kind of thing, so I don't want you telling people about this rank, alright? Oh and, strong arms server as the protectors of us ardents and warpriests. You also serve to gather intel on your fellow clanmates. If someone starts speaking up about overthrowing a leader, it's best to tell or you shall suffer the harsh consequences." He paused to breathe, and in general, waited for them to say something. Anything.

"Each strong arm is to protect their respective warpriest or ardent. I will not force you to protect someone, so choose who you wish to serve." The savannah rumbled as he scratched at his chest, tail flicking back and forth. He wondered whether they were okay with this sudden dump if info. It could prove to be a lot, but he had great faith in both Melantha and Dante. The two seemed quite resourceful, and he'd love to have them on his side rather than against him.

code by spacexual

♛ SMOKED A PACK OR TWO, IT NEVER WAS A PROBLEM —

As Melantha arrived, Dante couldn't help but give only a huff of greeting to her, since he wasn't particularly fond of her as of yet. He didn't know her, but yet he couldn't help but feel she was below him. That is, until Yes Man promoted them both to Strong Arms. Dante's ears flicked at that, though he looked pleased about his own promotion. A secret, elite rank, huh? That was pretty damn cool. "I've got Yes Man." The hybrid stated quickly, as if daring Melantha to challenge him on that. Looking back at Yes Man, Dante asked, "I do have a question, though. Do we get any say in future Strong Arm promotions, or is that solely you and the future Ardents?" It would be nice to know whether or not he - and Melantha, he supposed - had a say in who their coworkers would be with.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px darkorange; font-size: 24px;"]— DANTE♛

#psychosocial.

[align=center]

An impenetrable silence falls over the solitary huntress as Yes Man begins to speak. Pallid olive eyes gaze upon the ardent with measured respect as she listens, though the single ear twisted in Dante's direction hints that she remains aware of the strange hybrid's presence. It does not take long for the pale cheetah to answer Melantha's question as to why she was summoned. A promotion, huh? And a secret one at that? Plain, angular features remain impassive, but the huntress is secretly pleased. Although she can remember very little of her life before the Pitt, the mountain lioness knows that subterfuge has always been her area of expertise. Lurking in the shadows; always watching, always guarding. Out of the limelight.

Powerful jaws part, ivory canines glinting in the sunlight, as the female prepares to respond, but they snap shut upon Dante's rushed words. "I've got Yes Man." A surge of annoyance races up her spine. Not that Mel particularly cares who she guards, but she just knows that Dante's choice is based purely on the assumption that guarding the ardent makes him more important. Of course you do, you slimy little fish-weasel. The golden wildcat holds her tongue, instead peering down at the smaller creature with narrowed eyes. For a moment, the idea of squishing his tiny body with her much largely bulk is incredibly appealing, but Melantha is practiced at remaining outwardly composed. She hates brown-nosers and elitists, but she hates showing her cards even more.

Only moments after Dante made his choice, Mel offers a curt nod in acknowledgement. "I suppose I will take on both Toga and Esklav until a new strong arm is chosen. It only makes sense, since I am the strongest physically." Was that a dig at the teeny tiny size of her fishy companion? Possibly, but it is impossible to tell for sure if she is insulting the male or not given that Melantha is remarkably stone-faced. It is not the challenge that Dante was looking for. Sarcasm or no, the female is far too duty-orientated to get herself involved in a petty row. Besides, she is not bothered by the extra work. It just gives her more things to do. She does enjoy being useful.