ORIGIN

Fahl continued to follow. Although his grace was far greater than it'd been on land, legs propelling him forward with a practiced swimmer's ease, his brief headfirst dive still proved a mild irritant for the moment. Vision blurred as water trickled over his broad face, and despite the desire to remain wholly attentive to the surroundings, rapid blinks responded to the issue.

"Children of Rot" drew a sharp intake of breath though, revelation resulting in a blurted, "Rot, like after the food?" His jaw clamped shut after. Thin yellow-green markings traced its underside, but the need to clarify forced him to speak again. "Imp mentioned a pile. Of that."

Struck by the absurdity of the question but too late to erase it from existence, Fahl tried to brush the words away with a mumble. "Or rot because of the... Yeah, children. Of rot. I understand."

"So that's why you were there," he supposed, head jerking to one side and then to the other. Droplets scattered either way at the forceful gesture. "To make sure all the City shit with Farina didn't dirty the waters. Erm. So to speak, sir."

The conclusion was sensible, really. No fault could be found in ensuring that the powerful's (apparently common enough) squabbles didn't cause worse problems for everyone else.

Whereas Imp's reception to the gargantuan reel of scales that burst forth from the swamp could have glowed with his enthusiasm, Fahl's possessed more similarities with that of a frightened minnow. He looked the part too, body flashing to a uniform silver that emphasized his minuscule size. Caught off guard by the sudden spray, hearing muffled by the roar of adrenaline, instinct sent him scrabbling up the shore to safety. Mud-slicked limbs flailed in an undignified mess to reach what could barely qualify as higher ground, and in the long shadow the serpent cast, a violent shiver shook his spine as he tugged his tail close to him in a defensive curl. This entire instant was one that he'd likely look back upon, full of embarrassment and disgust at his conduct. Nevertheless it was to be expected; how else could one react to a giant?

Prey under the beholding eye of what felt to be a predator, the iguana lacked the nerve to stare back. The screeching wavered his convictions even more so. Instead he focused on whatever might slow the flutter of his heart: the sight of Dragon, the shouts from Imp. Even the stomach-churning stench from the rotting pile of offerings could serve as an anchor to weigh down scattered, worried thoughts. Swallowing back the rising bile in his throat was an unpleasant experience, but it reminded him that he'd not yet been devoured whole.

Imp imperfect in his gesture for obvious reasons and Fahl consumed in a minor flight of terror, a heartbeat passed before realizing the thread of conversation had been given to him. He startled, head jerking abruptly to where Aquarian loomed. An ever so helpful "um" left his mouth. "I'm—"

No, he knew who he was. He'd already been introduced. What had Imp covered? Farina, yes. And Nemean. So other related questions.

"Yes, we've seen Farina and..."

Was that loud enough? Uncertain, his teeth chattered in a wordless stammer. Perhaps he ought to try following Imp's lead here.

"WE'VE MET FARINA. SHE AND THE ONE CALLED ARTIO WERE, ACCORDING TO HER, BETRAYED BY NEMEAN. FARINA CALLS HERSELF—" At this moment, he hacked, unused to sustaining such volume, before resuming. "A REAL MASTER OF THE CAVES AND CLAIMS SHE'LL FAVOR THOSE WHO SERVE HER. WHAT KNOWLEDGE HAVE YOU OF THEM, THEIR HISTORY, THEIR THREAT OR LACK OF?" Then, meek at the possibility of being perceived as too demanding, followed, "Uh, if you wish to share it. Sir?"

Although he could think of no greater title of respect, it seemed inadequate applied to one so intimidating.

Paying heed to voice instead of full-body theatrics wasn't easy; sinuous coils swayed to and fro and every which way, accentuating the declarations that left Aquarian's massive jaw. Each time his head whipped far enough back, many glinting teeth framed a yawning chasm of a maw. The entire scene transfixed Fahl. However, though caught once more under glaring yellow scrutiny, his tensed shoulders eased. Claws that'd been stuck in the more tender scales of his tail marginally withdrew, as paradoxical as it might seem to do so, as well. He might've struggled to follow everything, a concerned little creature in the larger one's midst, but excluding further questions aroused, the gist he understood: Farina and Artio were better than scum like Nemean, for whatever that might be worth.

He balked at the demand, a glance cast to Dragon and then Imp, perplexed at restating what'd already been mentioned. His teacher, after all, had been plenty loud, hadn't he? Or had his name simply slipped unnoticed through the jumble of questions asked?

"I'M FAHL," came the responding croak. The shouting was already taking a nasty toll on his throat. "I CAME FROM PISCES. I, erm, live there." Born there too, he reckoned, unless there'd been a world before the darkness and stone he'd left.

The next was said with the caution one might use when poking at an open, infected wound. "Was the work incomplete supposed to be for the... creator?"

Regardless of what came after, whether an answer that made his limbs quiver or nothing to fret about at all, Fahl offered his own questionably helpful counsel to Imp. "Farina maybe? I've a... different body than before. Shit like eyes couldn't be any tougher to mess with."

But what she might consider an improvement on blindness? Something in the crab's own image?

He pictured sockets no longer empty. If an involuntary shudder passed through him at the possibility of long eye stalks that jutted up from them, he'd blame it on the surrounding fog and their present company.