ORIGIN

Fahl had only one home, that's true—two if the stone prison that'd once held him and somehow inexplicably captured him again counted (and he'd long ago stopped). But experience had a way of altering one's mind about such a subject, the desire to belong even more so. Cetus might not be his native Pisces with its lovely waterfall and lack of endless muck to trudge through, yet it offered features of its own that grew upon him the longer he lingered within its walls: the map he currently lounged beside, a crude combination of practicality and artwork, or the mighty and intimidating presence of Aquarian winding through the swamp which he'd not had the opportunity to shudder in the looming shadow of again. Most of all, there was the existence of those who valued him and his efforts, a thing he would be hard-pressed to find in the solitude of another cave.

They were what caused him to stare at the glowing lines of that map he was near for some uncomfortable amount of time, trying to figure out its fancy trick like he'd done on more than one occasion visiting the area. Ambition had driven him this time around to find a twig and exercise his magic upon it to see if the results could be replicated. Unsurprisingly, the attempt resulted in little more than muttered cusses and ground teeth, and he'd long abandoned exploration of another element in favor of further examining himself. Another change wrought upon him by getting involved in the affairs of Masters, slightly less inconvenient than the first with fins that required constant tidying, he could sense an extra aspect waiting to be tapped into. All he needed to do was locate the trigger.

Although a reptile of action, patience a quality practiced instead of inherent to him, meditation seemed the best way to access the power inside him. After all, the majority of his breakthroughs in fire had emerged from deep focus and determination. So Fahl lay there, eyes closed and breathing steady, and prodded at multiple spots in his mind for wherever this mysterious gift or curse could be.

Thus far, it eluded him, an indescribable and equally infuriating spark dancing along the edge of consciousness, impossible to reach. He remained prone though, unwilling to give in quite yet to the tempting rage gathering hot in his chest. A slate gray at the moment, belly and throat were flushed scarlet by the emotion he contained. If success did not come soon enough, they'd likely shift to brighter hues alongside rising distress.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

In, then out. Of course.

Focus turned entirely inward, narrowed to the point that not even an itch beneath scales could have distracted him, the sound of Dragon's voice—what should've been an ordinarily far more startling disruption to his regular breathing pattern—rumbled, distant like the roll of thunder. Much closer was the gathering steam from the gradual boil of his brain. Wracked every possible way, the matter cooked within its casing, no progress made in locating the magic hidden away in the crevices. Frustration vented out as a long sigh, or rather hiss, and Fahl curled claws into the mud. Tension built in his shoulders.

And released when he sprang up, almost choking on an abrupt inhale at the tremors moving through the ground, courtesy of his gator visitor settling back onto it. White, stark and unblemished, wiped the slate of his hide clean. Eyes acquainted for too long with the inside of their lids blinked away bleariness to recognize the form nearby.

"Dragon." An internal scowl at the lack of decorum. "Ah, I mean, sir—" A frantic and belated correction screamed at him. "Er, yes, Dragon."

Spots of horrified orange and yellow popped into existence. Fahl snuck a glance at his toes and the muck beneath them. What he hoped was a silent conversation passed between him and Cetus: the swamp had permission to swallow him up if he bungled this interaction any further. Clearing the lump in his throat with a harsh noise, he hazarded continuing.

Shit, surely he wasn't this awkward with Imp. Maybe he could imagine him as the less feathered, older version. Fixate less on the power achieved, the magical seniority, and more on the familiar and approachable traits evident in his manner.

"If it's no trouble, I was... practicing. With my magic."

The glowing lines of the map caught the corner of an eye. Reminded of previous fruitless attempts to wrest that ability under his control, the proposal to update them tickled at the backmost portion of his tongue. But uncertain, of whether such an offer was proper or a desecration of history, especially when he hadn't yet the capability to deliver on any promises, the topic glided onward to more immediate undertakings.

"These changes that orb of, well..." Despite her imprisonment, bile rose at the fact he'd have to mention her in passing. "Nemean's did. I can feel something more there. Invisible. Waiting to be flexed and made apparent."

The spark of undetermined magic flickered, bright but somehow so unlike a flame in the depths of his mind. He seized it, and pale bark emerged from beneath the scales of the paw he directed the sensation to. The layer rooted itself in place, a protective barrier over the paw's back.

"Like... like that. I guess." Fahl gawked. Then, voice blunted by disbelief—"I'm a fucking tree. Really."

His remark hadn't been intended to come off as facetious. Neither had he planned for it to be received in any manner in particular, the thought's lack of sophistication enabling it to slip past the limiting bulk of his gemstone when more pensive attempts at conversation would've stalled out or been mangled on the way through. Little able to be done now that the moment of impulse had occurred, however, Fahl tried to handle Dragon's response with more dignity than awkward shame. Bafflement and faint horror at the foreign experience of things growing upon him was swallowed back in favor of cultivating morbid fascination when the other Gembound offered a view of changes far less temporary than his arboreal summons.

For comparison, he lifted his armored paw and shifted eyes back and forth between it and the alligator's back. An inward curl of the toes and there was an audible sound of strain as the stiff bark bended to accommodate the movement. Air whooshed out as a soft, considering sigh. Low laughter rumbled in the back of his throat, accompanied by a head shake.

"You've got me there. Practically become a whole tree trunk with all of that."

To the addressing of the origin of these body alterations, the Masters and their powerful will, Fahl attended to the comments in silence as a pupil would to their teacher unless any questions arose. The pointing out of his Farina-caused mutations naturally resulted in self-consciousness, having never quite taken well to how they'd changed him; at the very mention, claws reached for tail fins and drew them close to him to perform some habitual maintenance, picking out mud accumulated in their folds. But the positive acknowledgment of his magical activities evoked a pleased nod, confidence bolstered.

"My hunger's for improvement only at the moment. If anything," he offered, "I should be the one asking you. This is your place—I'm the visitor on extended stay."

Initially he'd had to be in order to make certain Farina fulfilled her end of the deal for Imp. In the current moment without such an obligation, though, he was content to wander and acclimate to the place which had become far more likely a destination to visit due to knowing those who lived here.

"Imp?" he echoed.

Claws that'd been stroking over fins while he continued to remove filth from them paused at the mention of Fahl's teacher. His head, once carefully bent in observation of his task, jerked up at the sudden distraction the shift in conversation had brought. Unconcealed interest shone within murky eyes, and once Dragon fully delved into the news he had, they only gleamed brighter.

"Favor," murmured the iguana when at last he'd heard everything. "Lux... ury." He sounded out the word slowly, a faint touch of disbelief woven in the syllables. "Oh, I'm sure he would. That's... that's great."

And great was an understatement made evident by the dark flush of scales and the gold pigmentation swirling over back and belly. After hearing about the wonders of art from Imp often enough, the knowledge of those new eyes being put to use kindled warmth within his chest. So long had the batgator gone without the ability to alter the surroundings to his vision; any success he was finding now was well-deserved as far as Fahl was concerned, a master receiving the recognition that had been snatched away from him by blindness.

"Yes, I'll have to see those for myself sometime." Witness the artist at work if he could. "Maybe he could use an assistant too," he considered half-jokingly. "Someone to fetch the paints."

"And this is due to a... cave leader, you say?"

At first, Dragon's amusement had evoked Fahl's own in return. Though more restrained than having the laughter explode forth from his chest, the mildly undignified snort could not be mistaken for any other purpose but the obvious. Whatever levity had lurked in the air to cause him to entertain the tiniest of jokes, however, evaporated soon after. It seemed that the very mention of the answer to his question had induced a rapid drought of all possible humor in his mind, and dwelling upon what he heard set his jaw grimly tight.

"First I've ever heard of a Hand," he muttered. "Huh."

And he didn't like the sound of what it represented: another rung in the ladder of power which gained more with every new revelation about his place in the world. Long ago, times had been simpler and only masters with a lowercase "m" had concerned him. Then the existence of Masters had become more apparent, their existence and danger made explicit by his own teacher's concern and emphasis upon their title. The magic he'd witnessed from them cast his own in deep shadow, made it so clear how much distance still he had to cover in order to become even an irritating thorn in one of their sides. To know another gulf existed beyond them gave him the worst sort of shivers.

Attention fell back to the bark covering his paw. Great flakes were falling off as the spell weakened, the hard exterior breaking apart to reveal the pebbly scales beneath. On reflection, this had come easier to him than much earlier attempts at magic use despite the usual frustrations, whether due to the Masters' influence or just his own experiences from past hard work. The speed, while impressive, he now saw wasn't enough. Advancement needed to be much swifter, lest he be wiped from existence by so little as a stray cruel thought. He required better odds of survival than the ones he currently had amongst those who knew its importance.

"About... visiting, well, here, " he said, swallowing back hesitance, "I've been thinking. I still mean it when I say that Pisces is my home, but I find that with all... this—the Masters and Hands—I can't help but think I should be doing something. For if there's a time they find issue with us and we need to take a more... defensive position."

He cleared his throat and took a shot. "What I mean to say is... Dragon, sir, does the offer still stand? To be a Child of Rot. I can't reside here always but can be at your disposal. As I am for Imp."