ORIGIN

Too often--and Obieth knew it--she spent her time simply... lounging. Lying about in any warm patch that she could find, or observing the comings and goings of the Palace staff from a position where she, the smug predator, could watch without being seen in turn.

And she had grown too reliant on the food that the Palace cook provided--she would visit the concession stands, and take her mouthfuls of hot dogs, and gag on the salt but otherwise simply not hunt for herself. She'd been aware of it, of course--of her own laziness--and she wanted to do something to fix that. She wanted to earn, for herself, her power; she wanted to train and hone it. No one would keep her here, in her Palace, in her position, apart from herself. If she failed Aethril, if she failed in her own simple duties, she wouldn't deserve to stay. And in any case, Obieth wanted to be powerful. She enjoyed that high-up perch; she enjoyed looking down upon others.

She was royalty, after all.

Cain and Aethril had both warned her not to rely upon her magic. That, to her, was all the more reason to train it; if she were less likely to fail with it, then it would be more reliable. But she would, too, train her body, as instructed.

Given free reign for a few hours, then, she stepped out into the Palace grounds and padded off, farther than she normally did. She prowled out into Cepheus proper, slinking through the bushes, feeling the brush of foliage against her velvet back. The sweet scent of the trees' petals filled her nostrils, and she made her way out toward Tunnel F. She would not go quite that far--but she was out past the manicured gardens, instead now padding along one of the worn trails that cut through the fields and orchard-like trees.

First: she would need to find prey. And so Obieth lifted her nose to the air, her eyes to the shadows, and her ears to the underbrush, and began her hunt.

She intended to draw the shadows up alongside her--to hide her as she went--but nothing came; and instead of annoyance, there came a flicker of realization that this was one thing Cain had meant. She could use her magic, yes--but she'd need other plans. Don't rely on that alone, she thought to herself, mentally reinforcing the lesson, slipping off the path and into the tall grass instead.

The distant bellow of a Kooru drew her attention like a sharp blade: razor gaze jerking toward it, prowling muscles speeding her advance through the tall grass. She paused to check the wind--one of the few things she'd learned, but only through hunting, itself. After having realized that the wind carried scent, it became common sense not to stalk downwind--she always circled to approach upwind, so that her target's scent came toward her and not the other way around. And right now, she realized--paused with nose in the air--she was moving downwind.

This was bad, and so Obieth began a wide circle (hopefully still far enough from the Kooru, or whatever had sounded like one) around her goal. This time, she managed to tug at the magic surrounding her; faint shadows drew in like a cloak, covering much of the area through which she moved. It would look like the deepening shade, perhaps, of a passing cloud, but further dimmed; unnatural, but enough to hide her passing.

One paw set before the other, the scent of the Kooru now warm and animal on the wind. It was not a strong wind, nor was it a light breeze; it was a here-and-there rush of air that curled through her whiskers and caressed her Oiled hide.

The earth was soft underfoot. The grass tickled her chest and belly as she dropped lower to the ground, her prowl now a stalk. The thrill of the hunt now started up through her, an excitement that both urged her into action and pressed a hand upon her back, keeping her near-still and utterly silent. That was excepting her magic: a soft, indistinct whispering followed her. She hoped that this would not be enough for the Kooru to hear--and if it did, that it would not recognize it as danger.

There was movement in the bushes up ahead: the soft grunt of the Kooru, undoubtedly marking territory and generally making a stir. It was a male, bellowing now and then for a mate, and it had likely signed its death warrant through its own obnoxious noise. But it was still just out of sight, and Obieth needed to see it to inflict her magic on it--to practice her skills, her huntress' malice, with any accuracy.

She crawled along the ground, the scent of rich soil filling up her head, her chin very near to the ground. Behind her, her tail hovered a mere inch above the earth. She paused, and reached for her magic once more--but like a good student, she was already searching for alternatives.

If it fails, she decided, I will wait, and see if it comes my way. But... if this were urgent... she pondered the situation for a moment. If it were urgent, I would need to rush out and hope to surprise it first. But even then, magic could fail, she thought to herself, considering.

She'd need to be ready with claws and fangs, then, if this Kooru were instead a threat.

Nothing came; her own shadows dissipated. Frustration threatened to rise, to boil out like foam, but she held it down and preached her own purr of patience.

She settled in, elbows jutted up nearly above her back, pressed now to the ground. The Kooru came no closer, but nor was it wandering off; there was no way to tell which direction it was heading. Rushing out now seemed unwise. Though Cain had taught her to use her claws and teeth, too, the Overseer had also taught her not to rush into something: to have a plan, and one that wouldn't fail. What was it they had told her-?

To know the Palace and its grounds, every path and every walkway. Well, she didn't know this patch: she didn't know if beyond this cluster of foliage there was open space, a field, or a stand of trees. And that would change the way things would work: whether the Kooru could bolt and lose her, or hide, or whether she might simply run into the trunk of a tree.

A bellow, at close range, startled her so that she jolted--she nearly sprang back, nearly thrashed the foliage and gave herself away.

Obieth's jaw tightened and she settled, took a breath. One more try, she thought--one more attempt at shadows, and then she'd move on. If it failed again it would be something she'd practice later: for now, she was already surprised at how fickle it was being. It had never done that, before.

Maybe--much as she hated to admit it--the Overseer was right. It wasn't that Obieth did not want to be wrong; it was simply that she liked her power, her magic, and considered herself good with it.

At last, the darkness came--to her relief. It covered her, and then her patch of land, and then she spread it outward; let it blind the Kooru, too, she thought. If it couldn't see her coming, and she could see it, well... a sentient being might have recognized danger.

Koorus, however, were not capable of such thought.

The snorting, up ahead, had stopped. So had everything, in fact: the Kooru was alarmed, and its response had been to freeze. As an instinctive reflex, it was effective; without sound to guide her toward her target, it was hard to know how far ahead it would be, or whether she was actually moving toward it or had fallen off her course.

Forward, though: she crept ahead, pushing aside the leaves one by one, clutching her magic like a cloak. Shadowed, swathed in black, she moved toward it.

Obieth nearly struck its leg, before realizing it was there: it was stood thick in the underbrush, not out in a clearing, and its paler stripes were brightly visible to her dark-adapted eyes. She froze, and her eyes slipped upward: it doesn't see me, she realized. The Kooru was nervous, on edge, one hoof lifting slowly and setting back down. But it was looking away, taking scent from upwind, looking around for any danger. And not seeing Obieth, right here at its side.

She tightened her jaw, inhaled in silence, and focused: she would release this magic, and grasp harshly for another. For the Kooru's mind.

The grasp was clumsy, but fast, and it hit; a sliding grip that nearly missed its mark but, at the last instant (as the shadows fell away) found a fingernail purchase in the fabric of the Kooru's mind.

Obieth stood, slowly, shaking just a little with the effort; the Kooru had started to spring away, and then stumbled, and now stood trembling and empty-eyed before her.

It was an... unsettling feeling, Obieth decided. While her own willpower was iron hard, and while she had seized the Kooru powerfully as though by the scruff of its neck, she could feel the intrusion of trickling terror and panic in it threatening to break free. Its sensations were racing, and for a moment she pondered them, eyeing the creature over, savoring the moment.

It knew the heady scent of its own musk, the odor of distant females; it knew the smell of the grass and of the fruits it had been eating, still sticky on its tongue and teeth. Its life was one of indolence, interspersed with bright sparks of fear. She could see those memories: one moment lazing in the grass, blinking against the orb-light, the next scrambling up and bolting, a pack of Pitch Rats on its tail. Drinking at the river in Pegasus, its muzzle wet with drops that sparked in the 'sun' as it raised its head. A quiet resting in the dark, motionless as something prowled not far off, the birds gone silent. She could see back to when it had been birthed--and it was stoneless; a memory of a Mother, of a soft muzzle brushing it, a reassuring tongue. She could see it frolicking in the long grass. Could see it driven off, as it came of age, from its small group of females, where it had grown up. Setting out, now belligerent with maturity, bellowing to find new companionship, of a different sort. She could see the flash of days gone by, and the dim glow of nights.

And now it would end here: captured, trembling, in Obieth's own grip.

She savored that. Savored the tragic, bittersweet beauty of a life, so well-lived, come to its sudden close: facing that tender poison drop of death that hovered just above its tongue. But--she wasn't so cocky or arrogant that she felt it was a sure thing. Perhaps she would fail, and it would escape her... but that was not her plan.

Obieth was also not done with the Kooru just yet. She had a great deal of practice she intended to get in. Carefully, but quickly, she attempted to relinquish her hold upon its mind: to, instead, plunge it into the nothing-void that she held the power to summon around it.

The Kooru was gone--vanished--in a heartbeat instant, but she could still smell its animal scent lingering, could watch the grass slowly rise from where it had been standing on it. It took immense effort to keep the creature banished, to hold her power to move it from one realm to another entire.

She took a breath, and then exhaled, circling around to the front. Ears swivelled back, her predator's instincts aware enough to keep her own senses open in case something hunted her, in turn, whilst she was distracted.

I will keep it there a moment longer, she decided, and then let it out, and practice with my teeth and claws instead. Or, at least, her body. She didn't intend to tear it up, or even to kill it just yet: but to twist it down and pin it, and test her strength and her stamina against its own... that, she would do.

But for now she took another breath, and held the magic for as long as she could.

She held it, kept it hidden, banished, gone. The air it was in, empty. Obieth wondered, vaguely, what might happen if she were to jam something tall, pointed, into the space where it had been: would it emerge jammed into that object, impaled and dying-? Or just pop out somewhere close by?

It might be worth testing on its own: but not now. That would take a bit more preparation, and that wasn't time she had.

For now, she released her magic: let the Kooru come tumbling out, and then sprang for it. The magic had been tiring, but her body still held strength: her feline form coiled, launched, and latched.

The poor beast was terrified, of course. It had been plunged into darkness; had its mind held and controlled; and then been banished into pure nothing with no access to its own senses. Now a predator had leapt upon it, something larger than it was, something whose teeth and claws were gripping its coat and wrenching it sideways, to the ground. If Obieth had not been caught up in the thrill of the kill (or near-kill, anyway), she might have felt pity for the beast. As it was she revelled in its frightened bleats, in the kick of its six hooves which sent clots of earth and rotten leaves tossed into the air, in the fruitless grasp and fumble of its prehensile tail at her ridged back.

She'd leapt at the throat, coiling her body around in a swing to land atop its back. Her teeth were at its neck, paws clamped to its side, and she rode it: clinging as it thrashed, holding tight, until she was convinced that she could've killed it.

She released it.

It was not mercy: it was training, a test of self. She tensed, and as the Kooru scrambled upright (blood flowing over its cream-striped, greenish fur) she readied herself to give chase.

She let it bolt from the clearing, another terrified bleat escaping it: and then Obieth sprang after it, paws propelling her across the dirt. The Kooru--Obieth close behind it--crashed through the bushes, stumbled, and fled out into open fields beyond.

Despite the short headstart she had given it, it stood no chance.

Her cheetah-like gait shot out of the underbrush behind it, and in the space of a few heartbeats she had closed the gap, one two-toed paw slapping out to trip it up from behind. Then she was on it again, a tangle of limbs and teeth, scrambling to get a grip.

It bleated again; and an observer might have been forgiven for thinking she was playing with her food. For Obieth, this was deadly serious practice, and she was learning every step of the way.

Again, she let it free: springing away, landing tensed and four-square on the ground, dropping down into a half crouch with her eyes locked on her prey.

Its eyes rolled to white as it scrambled back up, foam frothing from its lips as it wheezed for panicked breaths. Obieth didn't leap after it, this time: she coiled her magic as well as her muscles, and sprang that forward in her stead.

Air pressure crushed downward, and the Kooru went from breaking into a run to smashing down against the dirt, flailing.

"Yesssss," Obieth hissed, daring now to stand fully upright. She paced closer, feeling the hum and pulse of the ominous air. It was a new magic, for her: one that could expand or compress the air around her, crushing things down or expanding their lungs to burst them. She hadn't played with it, much, yet--hadn't tested or trained it--and so it was good to see her magic working well.

She paced around the ball of compressed air, watching the Kooru thrash weakly in its grip, her eyes clinically taking in the details: how it gasped for breath, how it struggled to even lift its legs to kick.

This was good; her magic, then, was working.