ORIGIN

"Ahhh, my poor dear..."


The voice was sultry: a feminine tone, but aged and well-spoken, each syllable crisp and rich. There was a culture to it, these mere four words promising more class and wisdom than any offered up by of the usual denizens of the caves.

But... this voice was not directed at Adenium; the sad and crooning tones were a distance away, through the mist.

Behind the Divine, if the muffled words were any indication. "I cannot believe she would do this to you..."
Soft grief brushed the tip of each word, and a quiet sigh followed.

A moment later, she appeared: a tall, stately figure--elegance incarnate. She was draped with flowers and ivy; root-like feet scurried slowly beneath the robe of greenery to carry her over the twisted roots of the Divine. Wooden fingers trailed softly across the Divine's scarred bark--and then the stranger paused, her glowing green eyes sweeping to take in Adenium. Her hand lingered on the Divine's trunk, and her lips pursed a little as she looked the tree-elf over.

"What are you doing here?"
she asked, neither a demand nor a warm welcome.

It was spoken with the tone of someone still deciding what they were looking at: aloof, considering, and empty of feeling.

Artio cast a delicate brush of bark-clad fingers down over ivy robes, as if to cast free any lingering mud, or dust; and then her fingers intertwined before her. She studied Adenium, thoughtful, her eyes casting over their own bark-like form, the multitude of eyes, the spines. Valkhound, these features whispered--and yet it held none of the taint of their Creator's corruption, and no sinister glint of Oilstone at back or limb. In fact--was that twist of Selenite rose their gemstone..?

Artio pondered this, her lips faintly pursed. Whose creation was this..? Farina had spoken of the Gembounds, but this--this was an older design. An old design, in fact.

Her gaze strayed back to its face. A face open, not bothering to hide its staring curiosity. A face belonging to one who had never been taught what was expected of it. The face of one-... exploring? It was true, then; the rebels had won, perhaps interbred down through the generations, soiling each and every corner of the cave with innocently ignorant sparks of ill-bred life.

Interesting. Horrific-... but interesting. Perhaps these descendents had so long forgotten the rebellion and their proper Masters that they could be reined back in without issue-? Regardless, Farina had--however madly, however reluctantly--admitted that the Gembounds were the only reason she had been able to regain Artio's stone, indeed her very life.

She cleared her throat softly, life-filled gaze shifting to look up along the trunk of the Divine. One hand extricated itself from the other, lifted, the palm resting lovingly on its roughened bark. "I mourn for her," came her soft answer. "You... your kind, in this era... you do not even know the history of this place, do you?" she asked, looking toward Adenium.

She blinked, her gaze delicate as crystal threatening to shatter, as if tears might at any moment begin spilling forth. Despite the composure of her voice, there was a tremor of grief that nearly broke its way free. It plunged her words into a hush, controlled, so as not to tumble out in choked sorrow. "You do not even know who she was..?"

Her question held no demand. An offer for a tale, for bittersweet knowledge, but not yet a demand.

The hand trailed down the Divine's bark, Artio's gaze turning wistfully toward the tree. "She was... a... friend." She paused, thinking, her hand resting on the rough and beetle-chewed tree--and then she looked sadly at Adenium. "This forest was beautiful, once," she mused softly.

A gentle sweep of her hand, and a small carpet of ivy sprang up: spongy, soft, dry and green. She gestured for Adenium to join her, even as she curled down to sit, her own roots settling against the wet earth of Cetus. She eyed them thoughtfully. Many years ago, she'd not have given creatures like this a second thought. Well--perhaps those of this design; but Gembounds, in general-? At best, they were to be exterminated. But Farina had, however reluctantly, enlisted their aid and found them to be useful, even loyal. Perhaps... she could find aid in them, as well.

Once they were settled--sitting, or not--she began to speak. One graceful hand gestured out at the blackness and the foul mist as she did so.

"The Divine was... the caretaker, of this place. In my time, this was not all foul swamp, and black water, and darkness. It did not..." she looked around, chin tilting gently higher. "...Stink." A soft sigh. Certainly, the decay of organic matter was a part of nature, but this-? This was rot, and nothing more. The long, slow demise of what had once been beautiful. "A forest, full of golden light, and laughter. Full of life and growth." Fists curled quietly into plantwoven robes, and tightened there, eyes squeezing against long memory.

"She," she went on, looking to the Divine, "was my friend. My servant, my handmaiden; my ally. While I worked, she was this place's caretaker. She loved these forests-..." For a moment, Artio trailed off, her eyes studying the black-branched canopy overhead, a darkened skeleton of what had been. "They--she, and all of those who aided her--were betrayed. As was I," she went on.

She looked to Adenium, and now cold hatred stole onto her face like the shadow of a cloud, a sneer threatening to bare unseen teeth. "By that damned sprite." Inhale, exhale, as Artio regained herself, looking out over the marsh again. She was silent for a beat, the sound of the swamp insects loud in the absence of her words. "I do not know what she did to them. I only know I heard her laughter. Her mocking. Her damned buzzing. I know that she did this to her... only to lure me here. For betrayal. It wasn't even clever; a pit, spikes, deep water, but it was enough to get my gemstone to lure Farina to her own death, in turn. Except, Farina didn't die," she added, eyes narrowing with gleaming satisfaction. No; Farina hadn't died. She had stewed, quite literally--waited, for thousands of years, struggling to remain conscious with nothing more than hatred and fury to sustain her. Revenge had kept her awake through all the burning pain and at last, at last, she had finally escaped--to keep her word, to bring Artio, too, back to life.

But Cetus? The Divine, and all her handmaidens, in turn-? The fauns and dryads who had once so loved this place? "She turned it--all of it--into a death trap for her pet," she went on, and did not spit the word but intead lifted her chin again, regal in her cold disdain. "Nemean thinks that our work here should come second to her fun and games, regardless of the cost."

Artio looked again to Adenium, and this time her expression--noble as her bearing was--held a plea. "I tell you all of this... because I feel this may be a sign. Your presence, here, looking as our people did. Your... status, as one of the descendents of the rebels," she went on, oblivious to whether they knew of this. "I tell you this, because my beloved says your people are... good, and useful. Kind." Had it anything to do with kindness?

"I tell you all of this... because I wonder if you can help us. If you can help her," and Artio took a hitched breath, looking up into the Divine's gnarled, agony-contorted branches.

"If I asked you to gather them all... As many as you can, to come to this place and to help me. To keep it from Nemean, if she still lives--and I think she does--would you do this for me? I would promise you any reward that is in my power to give," she went on.

"I would make this place beautiful again."

Silence fell, a story finished and a request laid upon the tree-Gembound's shoulders; and Artio waited, her regard both hopeful and melancholic. Would they offer her their aid? Could they even do anything, even one she had explained her (admittedly vague) plan?

It all hinged on this one's response: and in quiet suspense, aware she had never had to rely on one in such a position, before, Artio waited.

For a moment, her gaze again strayed to the gemstone rose, her lips pursing in thought. Had she misjudged-? Was it not the child of rebels, then; was it a test of a creation, a...

She resolved to ask it how it had been generated, but before she could, its answers were given her freely. Siblings. Children. Ahh.

"Many years ago, there was a rebellion. Betrayers, killers, rose up-..." She did not know all of the specifics; half of it, Farina had explained to her. But then, there'd usually been a few rebels, even before the one big rebellion. "Before this, our nest was a beautiful place. A place of creation and new forms." She glanced around, thinking nothing of spines and many glowing eyes. Those were beautiful, after all. New shapes, new life... It had been glorious.

"There were those that did not agree with our purpose. Those who created... other life, that did not serve our purposes, and kept it hidden. I believe you--and your... father, and... siblings?-" she offered, delicately, with the air of one too polite to comment. "I believe you are all likely to be their descendents. Children of the children of the rebels, or even more generations removed."

That, or randomly generating life; but given the Selenite's form, she had her doubts on that. In fact, it looked rather like one of her own ancient creations--well, a few of them, really. In the days where Oilstone was not universal, when other stones had been tampered with--hadn't there been an Aquamarine like this; and a Titanite? It did mention a Titanite.

Hmm.

Her scrutiny ended with a soft shake of her head, and a sad-voiced epilogue: "It does not matter, now. As for your other question... I do not know. As many as you can, but... I don't know if it is even possible to restore this place. We will need to uncover what Nemean has done to it. To Cetus--to my old friends. And how to reverse it... if we can."

It would mean--though Artio did not say it--a lot of investigation. Spies, perhaps. They would need to gather that information any way they could: eavesdropping, torture, thieves rooting around in Nemean's foul dens. It didn't matter how they did it--but she'd explain that to them all when the time came. For now, she needed as many of them as she could; the more there were, the better chance they would have.

And maybe if Nemean realized that half the remaining caves were searching her out, she'd simply... give up her secrets to keep herself safe. But given the sprite's arrogance, Artio had her doubts. "Any help you can bring me, I would appreciate. Tell me--what is your designation? Or your name?" she asked them, studying them closely now.