ORIGIN - A Bit of Burning Passion... and Feathers

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Not

The praise makes him straighten up a tad- it's been so long since someone realized he had more than common sense behind his eyes. Not does have the decently to not literally preen under the praise, and is reluctant to show this other exactly how easily he appreciates something he's entitled to anyway.

An offer to listen touches... something soft in him, which he stuffs back in his mental corner- it's the same thing that got him hurt after all. But he can appreciate it from a logical sense, and nods to Ananke to accept the offer.
Who knows, sometime I may take her up on that.
Her tone also brings it more to his consideration- he can understand fervor, can trust the desire that service to something you believe in gives you. But...

"Chaos? I... presume that's something other than what I've done, I can almost feel the title power behind that word." he muses, tilting his head to air one eye to her and another out from where they had been speaking- keeping a sort of momentary watch. "An every so often of variety, or showing someone they need to change their view, maybe even show them they're wrong in more than one way I can get. But that's not... the chaos you speak of, is it?' His question ends more like a statement, but it's very clear he's curious...

@Ananke

Ananke gave her head a gentle shake, a gesture that looked oddly natural on a rabbit. "No," she confirmed gently, "it is not. There are-..."

A breath, a faint tremble of her flanks, a shaking exhale of breath. Pale eyes stared off at nothing for a beat--subtle, but how much of this was act-? Her gaze drifted quickly back to Not, and she appeared to focus. "...servants, in these caves, of what is called the House of Chaos. They take joy in killing," she went on, her voice growing flat, lightly touched by distaste, "tormenting, wreaking havoc where they can. They are... monsters. Giant creatures, with too many eyes and too many limbs, and great claws and teeth. They drip with oil, leaving it everywhere they go," she went on.

She was speaking only from images Mother had given her, really, and the descriptions of "too many" eyes and limbs, and the dripping oil, was tinged by deeper disgust. How disorderly. "If they happen to catch you alone, there's a chance they'll simply kill you. So we try to stick together. To keep watch on them, and keep things more orderly," she went on.

And paused.

Here was a moment of truth, if mild and brief: would the mention of 'order' spark recognition in the raven-? Had Not already heard of Mother, been poisoned against her truths, been made, even, to believe that somehow chaotic violence was preferably to ordered calm?

Ananke waited to find out.

@Not

Not

Ananke wouldn't have to worry about there being a poisoner in Not's past or mind against Mother, or Order- there never was. And had there been, either way, her description brings to mind those he used to run with, those who, to him, are Failures in every sense of the word.

The rabbit's moment of thought draws in his full focus, and his pale pink eyes track her carefully as she speaks. Mention of havoc is something he used to enjoy, might still in some capacity... but again. His old life failed him, so what better way to better himself, than to go the complete opposite direction?

Needless conflict is entertaining, for sure. But that's what Others are for, Lessers.

If Ananke were to be looking at the white raven as she spoke of keeping watch on the monsters... she would see a moment of realization, a change in his body language.

"It... seems I may have a different idea in mind than you and your group's idea of entertainment," he begins, head tilting back and forth as he considers things. "I-" - will not admit to being wrong - "Can see that what you guys do may go a bit deeper than simply... watching." his tone is slightly amused, but in the way someone is when they realize something they like. As if to further accentuate that, his feathers around his shoulders ruffle in amusement.

"Sounds... interesting."

@Ananke

Ananke gave a somewhat self-deprecating little laugh: polite, humble. "I'm unsure it's entertainment," she said, in a tone that seemed to admit that she knew it didn't sound all that fun.

One hind leg lifted, scratching briefly at the fur behind one ear and then she sat up at once, again, to smooth the fur back down with her forepaws. "It includes watching, at least. But it involves escorting one another... purging the influence of Chaos where we find it, if it's safe to do so. And supporting ourselves, of course." She sat back, eyeing Not with keen interest.

"Does it interest you..? Would you like me to tell you more?" There was a spark of mischief in her eye. Playful, almost, despite what others might have seen as quite sinister, had they known the motives behind it.

But Not wasn't poisoned against the Hive; he was, indeed, a potential ally or even family member. Perhaps if he did hold interest, she could convince him to taste of Mother's love, and see if he enjoyed the idea of this new family.

@Not

A single, amused huff through his nose at her comment about entertainment... maybe they can get along when he decides he's ready to be a good deal more genuine. He watches her itch and re-smooth her fur idly, and her interest makes his feathers ripple for a moment up his chest and down his wings. Feathers are quickly aligned with a short, abrupt shake.

"I'd say it does. Quite the opposite of what I've seen."
And what I've seen is a lot of Failure. is his silent addition in his mind.

"I'd also dare say I want to know more about what you all tend to do... and how you do it." her expression gets a small, amused croak and his throat feathers puff with the noise, giving him a pleasant look... but his eyes mirror hers in intent... he might actually find Ananke endearing if she keeps up at this rate, he does so miss being able to verbally spar with anyone, let alone someone else with wit.

"When I speak."
When I think.

@Ananke

Ananke studied Not with that lingering playful expression. Even she wasn't sure how much of it was an act, carefully tailored by Mother to manipulate, to put the corvid at ease.

It didn't matter. They were all the Hive.

"Well..." Ananke said, and then scooted just a little closer, lowering her voice. Her pale eyes seemed to dance with mischief. "I could do better than that, if you'd trust me for a moment. I can show you."

One soft paw set gently into the snow, and she looked down, concentrating. She felt the magic blooming up, that delightfully satisfying thrill of order sweeping through her, outward from her. I am your conduit, she thought, the feeling one of exhilaration, of zealotry.

White mold sprouted from her paw, a thin film of smelly fuzz popping up around it in a small radius.

"Taste that," she said, pulling away and settling back into place. Her gaze trailed up to fix on Not, intense, that playful facade near to slipping. "It's something we use to coordinate, to cooperate--it'll give you an idea." Then she paused, remembering her mask: her head dipped again, that amusement showing. "Fair warning, though, it tastes rather terrible."

We really should find a way to change that, she mused, though she supposed Dontas were a solid option.

@Not

If he could lift an eyebrow at the word trust, he would have... instead he settles for silence, and he angles his head to watch Ananke's feet with curiosity.

The mold makes his head and neck feathers ruffle and his nose would curl if he could. An old, useless instinct tells him no, eating mold is bad- old scavenger habits from a world he never knew and life he never lived. However... Not trusts himself more than anyone else, amusement and fledgling comradery or not.

Letting the silence fester for more than a few moments... he nods. Lifting his head to fix Ananke with one pink eye, he looks the rabbit up and down pointedly.

"I do hope you don't mean to kill me. That would be awfully disappointing..." his voice is flat, his attempt at deadpan humor but unable to offer the smile that should go with it other than a squint to his eyes. "And a disappointing final meal..."

But I'll humor you... not like I have anything to lose other than my dignity.

A glance into Ursa proper, the howling white winds, and into the Tunnel, the festering heat that singes his feathers... then he stoops and uses his crystaline beak to pluck the fungus and sit up, then tilting his head back to swallow it without tasting. A few clicks of his beak, and with a final clack, he... waits.

"When I speak."
When I think.

@Ananke

For a moment, Not's last sentence jolted her--she thought, for a beat, that he was threatening to kill and eat her instead. Her eyes found the gemstone beak, and a new fear crept through her--but then he ate.

Ananke struggled to settle her nerves; she didn't know how strong that initial connection would be, how much of her emotion she might feel. Most likely, Mother would shield him from her; but she couldn't count on that alone, so she fought to calm herself.

She managed, mostly--old habit--but found that nervousness beating through her nonetheless as she waited breathless for any results. Her eyes found his, locked there unblinking, and she asked--in hushed tones--"Well-? Do you feel it?"

It began as a warm tingling, pleasant--hardly the assassination attempt Not might have been expecting. It rose and built like smoke in his chest, something new blooming there that hadn't been before, something that roiled relentlessly forward like the thundering edge of a stormcloud.

It resolved not into a violent crash, but abruptly dissolved instead down into a sweet voice, a warm voice, one matronly and full of sweeping confidence and welcome.

"Ahhhh... there you are."

For just a moment, Not would feel as though he'd come home. A sensation of warmth, of relief and of care, would wash over him, like a load lightened from his winged shoulders.

But the feeling weakened, the tether too new, and instead for a beat the white raven would hear and feel the tangled threads of a dozen voices--too distant to make out--and the faint press of all those consciousnesses, their feelings, even glimpses of their surroundings. It was too weak, too blurry, the mere taste not enough to do anything but show him that the link was there--that in time, it could be tapped into.

It was like the hint of a paradise, dangled before him and then secreted away again, those clouds of sensation dulling down to a distant buzz--the faintest presence at the back of his mind, but nothing more, for now.

@Not

The buildup is almost overwhelming- his chest feathers rising, and then ruffling as the raven stands in place, processing whatever it is he feels coming. Words get a small huff of surprise from his slack beak, eyes focused on the snow as he rides out the emotions and then fading of them, the feeling of home...

A foreign thing, to him, but something he knew he wanted- no.
Needed, now.

It takes until the link is quiet, less than whispering in the background, for him to gather himself once again and look to Ananke with two eyes pinned tight, pupils going large, small, then large again- bird for finding delighted interest, an instinctual reaction close to a dog's wagging tail or a cat's flattened ears in it's inability to be stifled.

"That... that's what it is?" He murmurs, his voice as close to wonder as he's ever gotten. "No wonder you're.. close with them. Whoever they are. Whomever... she is. How...?

Not is blindly fishing for words, and Ananke will see his flight feathers brushing the snow for the first time in their conversation, wings slack as he tries to piece together what he wants to ask, and how.

Finally, he asks... barely betraying his hope. "She... acted like she was waiting for me...?"

"When I speak."
When I think.

@Ananke

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