ORIGIN

Oliver looked to Venari, wide-eyed--more out of surprise than anything. "It--reached for me?" he asked, both hopeful and confused. Did that mean-... Did that maybe mean it could still--feel, or think?

She didn't have to ask him twice; quickly he cradled it, dropping back onto his haunches and pulling the stone down against his chest. He held it very carefully, the pads of his forelimbs embracing it, and blinked down at its static, swirling purple. "Do you... know what that means?" he asked softly, blinking up at Venari again, then looked down at the stone.

Is she just saying that to make me feel better? For a second, this thought was met with warmth--it'd be surprisingly sweet of her, given how bluntly honest she normally seemed to be.

But... that'd be sad, too, and that spark of grief came close on the heels of that warmth. He didn't want this stone to be dead, lonely, sad.

Again, without really thinking the thought through, he sort of wished that he could help.

Somehow.

He felt... almost in a trance.

He knew that sort of feverish intensity that came over him sometimes, now. That focus, that almost desperation that drove all other thoughts from his mind. It hit him now: he wanted to help the stone. He'd do anything. He could feel that buzz in his mind, feel all other emotions becoming distant, in a way that was almost disturbing.

Venari's single word half snapped him out of it--his head jerked toward her, eyes widening--but too late; his stone rose higher, and a sense of faint surprise twinned with hopeful relief. He didn't know what was happening; he had no time to be afraid. But maybe-... Maybe I helped the stone?

It was all the time he had thought for before his consciousness blinked away, leaving his curled form encased in black, streaked with green, and impossible purple-pink, and brilliant, blinding gold.