ORIGIN

Blackfeather purred, she was happy that the Brother was content with his task and would complete it to the best of his abilities. That was all she could ask of him. "Yes, of course, Brother Booker." She knew that he would be there for her just as they would be there for him.

At the mention of the dragon she nodded her fluffy head. She'd actually seen the large dragon before but he didn't seem particularly interested in the All Mother's ways. No matter... Perhaps he would see the light one day. "I will remember that but for now, I will meditate before the All Mother. Perhaps she will speak to me about something she needs and then I will come find you." She gave a polite dip of her head to the numbat before passing on a fond grin. Then she turned to the mushroom and lay before it with her nose touching the base. Her eyes closed as she began meditate.

---

As Blackfeather retired to the shade of the Monarch, Booker simply curled up where he sat, watching idly as she prayed. This place, this tiny haven in the middle of the forest, made him feel safer than he had in a very long time - perhaps even since Polaris had burned. He felt at peace, now, given a purpose beyond the obvious duties of a Rider. A Scribe, to the All Mother and Her children no less... it wasn't a burden so much as a gift, though the responsibility weighed just the same. When it came to his brother, Booker would gladly give his life to protect the dragon; while he would do the same for the Sisters, that fog of life-or-death didn't hang over his newly knighted scribe-hood. No, this felt more like opportunity than familial, loving duty. Opportunity to grow, to learn, to gain back that spark of scientific curiosity he'd lost with his home.

The tiny Gembound snuffled, pawing at the soft grass to slap together a makeshift nest, laying out in the warmth of the sun's rays. Safe, he thought idly, watching his Sister through a half-lidded eye, smile warm and sleepy, safe at last. This world had churned him 'round, chewed him up, spit him back out... but it all seemed worth it, somehow. He'd gotten Baratheon and all of the mushrooms of Origin out of the deal, and so, contented, he drifted off to sleep, soothed by the distant ambient sounds of winds whistling through treetops and brooks babbling.

[ Exit Booker ]