ORIGIN

Stone in her delicate mouth, Ayr's head turned to watch Shango run, fumble somewhere in the distance, and then come back. She smiled as much as an equinine's face could manage. "Elspet and I will keep a little eye on it, too," she said-- an offer that wasn't an offer, for Ayr wasn't about to take any 'no it's fine's from Shango. Not as long as the wellbeing of children were involved. "Let your daughters know and we'll arrange some time to let them all meet and play."

She'd regarded Dip with this too; but a glance over the humanoid told Ayr that sometime in the last five minutes since Shango had left and come back, the blacksmith had fallen asleep; likely thanks to whatever strange-smelling water she had been drinking. Ayr instead dipped her pale head towards Shango and her thin legs took her striding through the forest.

"Stay safe," the unicorn told Shango, and the alabaster tip of her tail vanished into foliage.

Her own den, shared with her mate, wasn't too far away. It was hidden away in an alcove up against a moss-and-lichen-laden wall of Eridanus. In a fluid motion, her head bent to leave the curtain of lichen undisturbed and clicked away into the neat den. The stone in her mouth was placed in one corner; out of sight of the main entrance.

A sigh. She watched the stone through long eyelashes and with a little burst of magic, the stone shuddered and took root like an ancient tree into the cave floor below. Ayr watched it in silence for a long moment before she bent her knees and settled down to lay next to the growing chrysalis.

Well, that was--abrupt. Not that he minded: his mind was elsewhere, now. Stuck (maybe just lingering) on the future, his wide ghostlight eyes lost in what might be.

Although they did drift, once, to the now-snoring Dip; and in a rare display of something resembling empathetic thought, Shango (after confused consideration) kicked some moss over her. Y'know, to hide her. From danger.

It didn't do all that much toward the desired effect, but Shango had never been accused of being either smart or a perfectionist. Job "well" done, he turned back toward the new chrysalis, already fretting over it. He'd have to guard it. Find food. Find shelter--or well, build some, right here, for when the kid hatched out.

"Okay," he told the sleeping Dip, and then hesitated before dipping into his deep-welling reserve of eloquence: "...bye."

A moment's confused hesitation, and then he took flight, already determined to start bringing back food for a child that would not hatch for weeks.