ORIGIN

Winner's Choice thread! I don't know what'll happen yet, for sure!

When Oliver had been growing up, his father had always told him he would be a guardian. He'd never really explained how, though; Black himself had been a combatant, a fighter who'd tangled with dragons many times, and who had eventually fallen in Hydra saving someone else's life.

Oliver, though, wasn't (and had never been) a fighter. His form of guardianship had come with quiet conversations, offering others support, mending, food, a quiet conversation--anything he thought might help. Sometimes he thought he'd made a difference; other times, he doubted it. And while the Wishing Stone had granted him the ability to sometimes see others' deepest needs, he had remained troubled back at his garden in Canis afterward.

Would it be enough? Part of him fretted that going back to the Wishing Stone would be too greedy. Others, after all, had their own wishes to ask for. Yet another part of him, the part that knew that his wishes weren't for himself, insisted that if he didn't do everything he could to help others while this incredibly rare opportunity presented himself, he might always regret it. Indeed, he might even lose a chance to help someone, and that was an awful thought.

He was hardly the sort to indulge in deification of random objects; he didn't slink up to worship the stone or to pray to it. But he did come with respect, with bright and gentle eyes--so when he found the Wishing Stone dimmed and silent, he sagged down.

Oliver slinked to the stone, and sat back, tufted ears flattening a little. "Are you... dead?" he murmured, pushing past the ring of flowers and other little gifts others had left behind. His face shape didn't really lend itself to frowning, but he distinctly looked the part of the sad dog, his eyes wide and his head lowered.

One clawed limb pressed to the silent Wishing Stone, and he sighed. "I'm sorry. I hope you're okay, and just-... sleeping." Do rocks sleep? He shrugged the thought away, and after a moment's thought, spoke to the stone again.

"I was going to ask for another way to help others... I didn't realize you'd be, um. Asleep or--whatever, by now. Maybe I can help," he added, somewhat doubtful, but the purity of the desire--the sheer selfless generosity--prompted him to try, at least.

A little surge of magicka gathered in his gem, and he tried to offer it to the Wishing Stone--to take on whatever was exhausting it, and give it his energy, in turn.

Its dormancy was almost complete, but the weak pop of magic between Oliver and the wishing stone stirred it awake, if only briefly. His magic might have failed but the intention was clear enough, resonating with what little radiation remained within the chunk of strange rock; his will to do good, to wrap others within his hold and keep them safe, to be the guardian he was fabled to be.

And though Oliver might not think himself a fighter, it took someone strong to play his role, and just as it served Her, the radiation bubble forth to burst around him and embrace him the same way he thought of himself embracing others.

It was warm and soft, and though not a conscious reaction—the latent radiation fulfilling his wish on par with Her own sort—it transformed him all the same. He would be able to spread his—Her?—love to those easy to reach and those far, his wings well enough but they did not satisfy the image of Her radiation, and so pain would grip poor Oliver all over his body.

His fur would shed, his teeth would loosen and fall out, his nails coming free from his toes: he would be completely disassembled and reassembled, from the familiar bird-dog to an iridescent black great horned owl, feathers growing in place of fur, beak in place of mouth, talons in place of nails... It would be too much for him right now and his onyx chrysalis would struggle to engulf him, cracked and veined with Magnolet.

As he succumbs to the unbearable pain, his vision flashes hot-white, the image of a meteor burning through satin space.

In time, he would be freely able to change between his two forms once he masters the biological transformation and all the pain that came with it. His stone would remain on his toe throughout each shift, and slowly, the Magnolet lacing it would stretch and spread, mirroring the infection of Her radiation across his brain.

@Oliver gains the ability to shapeshift between his original form and a great horned owl. Mutations will not affect the owl form but dyes may carry over. Accessories may fall off during transformation depending on their location.

He will emerge from chrysalis as his original form May 31 with the intrinsic knowledge of his owl form and how to start shifting.

His magic had backfired. That's what it had been--that's what it had to be, right? He'd felt it, and then--and now--everything was pain.

Oliver screamed, a hoarse yelping caw in shrill pitch, and a moment later he was on his back, on his side, writhing and flailing. The agony was unbearable, and he reached for--what was he reaching for--was there anything that could help him?--reaching in all directions, scraping the ground but that hurt I have no claws where are my claws-

His stone was spreading; he could feel it, and relief flooded him. Some vague, distant part of him hoped that he'd survive but even that was background noise to the desire to simply be free of the pain right now. Another distant part of him realized that his gemstone, as it spread, was taking on stranger hues--the Wishing Stone's colors?--and for the briefest of instants he wondered if he'd accidentally taken its gemstone wounds onto himself, somehow.

Then--a brief and flitting vision, surreal past the agony: a flaming shape hurtling through deep and swallowing darkness.

As Oliver's thrashing was at last stilled by his rising gemstone, so his mind was stilled by the vision of the meteor, as though the depth of blackness around it had risen to engulf him too.

exit Oliver

A madness would take Oliver in his chrysalis, singing him sweet dreams of the comet and of his memories—these were his memories, weren't they?—but he would not wake feeling mad... he would forget most of his dreams and wake to feel enlightened.

But the madness would not leave him, not yet; it would spread, slowly, webbing its way through the membranes of his mind and its progress would reflect in his onyx gemstone until it was no longer onyx, but completely Magnolet—and then, after enduring the trial, his enlightenment would be complete, though its finale yet a mystery.

@Oliver may feel like he is losing his mind sometimes, then be lulled into sleep to forget about it.

Oliver

Game Master CJ

Oliver

Game Master CJ