I apologize for being terrible at updating. This came into my mind, and I wrote it out because I like animal psychology.
I was going to update (Un)Natural Hybrids, but this came out instead. I was thinking of Roberta having a male Rex suitor for Dynasties, but couldn't think of how the fuck a random Tyrannosaurus would end up on Nublar when Nublar is being monitored, much less why someone would want to ship another Rex to Nublar.
And it would have complicated the rather simple story, when I'm slow at updating as it is already.
I don't expect this story to be very long, maybe 3-5 chapers.
I apologize with shitty updating once again.
Roberta never understood why her mate liked water.
The Bull could wade in it all day, running his clawed hands through the currents or staying utterly still, jaws partially submerged and agape. He would catch prey in the water-sleek and slimy-and swallow them whole.
On very hot days, her mate would lay within shallow water, and allow his scales to cool.
On cooler days, her mate would find a more rocky area to warm his belly, and allow his sail to be hit by the sun.
But only sometimes.
Sometimes her mate behaved not like her-wading in water and hunting small water prey.
Other times-her mate was just like her-a ruthless, fearless predator that hunted and killed with gnashing teeth and brute force.
He was just like her.
But at the same time-he wasn't.
Her mated carried with him a strange musk from a territory so distant-yet one so vaguely familiar.
Roberta could not remember the scent of her old territory when she was younger-before the tiny, two legged creatures came with sticks that shot pin pricks and made her sleepy. She knew her old territory was not this one.
It was not Isla Nublar.
It was something else, distant, yet familiar.
But it did not matter now.
Her old territory was long gone, and a new one claimed, so long ago.
Perhaps her mate came from her old territory, too?
But that didn't matter, in the end.
Her territory was his, and his was hers.
Yes.
He was very much like her-but not like her.
Roberta couldn't recall ever meeting another of her kind.
If her mate was not like her, it didn't matter.
At times, he was like her, and that was enough.
The Bull could only recall meeting his mate's kind.
If he was different, it didn't matter.
Only the strongest of his mate's kind claimed territory-and both the Bull and Roberta proved their strength.
Yes.
His mate was like him, but not.
His mate did not like water.
His mate would wander and patrol, ever looking for prey, ever checking her boundaries. Crushing limbs and breaking bones in her maw. Her arms were too tiny to do much hunting or catching.
On very hot days, Roberta would lay down under the dense folliage of the jungle trees, and rest under the shade.
On cooler days, the Tyrannus would find her mate, and lay next to him for warmth.
She was like him.
But at the same time-not like him.
And that was okay.
The Bull never understood why his mate disliked water.
She disliked water, but she watched him whenever he was in it.
And whenever his mate would watch him-the Spinosaurus would make sure to put on a display.
Roberta never understood why her mate liked water.
She understood how he could make the water dance and jump as if it were raining-even less.
But she was facinated by the display, amber eyes locked upon the dancing water that rippled along the surface.
The Spinosaurus would sink himself deep into the water, sail and crocodillian head breaching the surface, tail stiff like a log. His neck would crane skywards, serrated jaws agape, and deep, guttural vibration would rivet deep from his gullet.
And just like that-the water would dance!
The water would ebb and flow to the deep vibrations of his throat, tiny crystals illuminating and sparking in the sun's rays.
Roberta never saw such a display before-and the spectical intrigued her.
Yes, her mate was like her.
But at the same time-not.
But Roberta was quite pleased at her mate's courting.
For the first time-she could see water dancing on the nicest of days!
Roberta wasn't very familiar with the art of courting and mating rituals.
Neither was the Bull.
But that didn't matter.
The simple contact of another was more than enough.
It was nice, comforting, even, to make contact with another that did not involve teeth nor claw.
Roberta didn't know it was possible.
To be touched without pain.
Now she knew that nuzzling and cuddling was one such example.
Roberta was tired. She was very, very tired.
But she wanted to nuzzle her mate more-and thus-prevented him from sleeping under the stary night sky, moonlight cutting through the pitch black.
A low, cooing grumble escaped the Queen's throat as she booped her broad snout against her mate's shoulder, rubbing along his neck.
While certainly not a strong boop, the Spinosaurus released a quiet groan, and rolled from his belly and onto his side, a clawed hand raising to lightly bat at her face, neck craning to look upon her.
Roberta released a soft growl, and nudged his clawed hand away.
She was getting her cuddles, damn it!
Seeing that he was fighting a losing battle, the Bull complied. But not before giving a poke with his snout upon her own, which seemed to irritate his female as the Queen's nares flared.
The Bull seemed to appologize by booping his own head against her, body twisting to better reach her. A purr rivetted from his throat, and a soft grumble came from her own. Heads nuzzling and gaping jaws pushing out hot puffs of breath that turned into white wisps against the night air, the pair were content, breathing the other's musk.
To the other, their mate smelled like one thing.
Home.
Hunting wasn't the easiest thing for Nublar's Queen.
Her sight was not the best-and with age-it was only getting worse.
Thus, Roberta was beginning to rely more and more upon scent, and hearing.
And her scense of smell-nares flaring-was leading her to a kill.
The iron scent of crimson was upon the wind, and the Tyrannosaurus was intent on finding it.
Her nose led her to a kill, muscle torn and bones broken-chunks ripped off and swallowed whole. Roberta slowed in her stride as she neared the carcass, muscular neck craning skyward to sniff the air.
Something was wrong-or was it right?
She smelled her mate.
Did she?
It smelled like him, but not?
What was it?
Was he here?
Roberta didn't remember him skulking off in this direction as she did.
Well!
Only one thing to do!
The Queen's chest inhaled, powerful muscles expanding. A grumble from her throat grew in power, and turned into a bellow. A call. A call to announce her location to any rivals-and a call for her mate to answer.
The call was answered much sooner than Roberta expected, but not by her mate.
The call was almost exactly like her own.
At first, the Queen assumed it was just one of her echoes resounding from the mountains of Nublar.
She thought it was an echo-until the ground quaked in a pattern of footfalls.
She thought it was an echo-thought it was her mate-until a large predator emerged from the dense folliage, trees snapping under its weight-and a bellow that was just like hers-came from its crushing maw.
Roberta now knew.
She knew that this male was her kind.
He was just like her.
Thank you for taking the time to read this shitty work!
I'm not entirely sure how the next chapter will turn out, or who Ol' Granny Rexy would choose as her mate. :P