ORIGIN

For a simple mind, such as Karambit's, time as a concept was difficult to grasp. Things of an abstract nature difficult to understand, especially for this gargantuan nuisance, it mattered little compared to those more immediately physical and obvious. Usefulness was limited to the moments hunger announced itself with a body-quaking rumble, and its existence only became noteworthy when desires were not fulfilled to swift satisfaction. The monster lacking little experience with chrysalises despite destructive behavior—to self as well as others—the space between its collapse and emergence from its gem-encased state could have been mere seconds instead of the days which had actually passed. Unwise to the true length of its dormancy, it had burst into wakefulness amongst an explosion of bloody red shards, expecting to see their generous Fun friend awaiting a makeover of his own.

Nothing had been found in more ways than one: no company was present other than the gleam of debris and of the beings yet to free themselves, and neither registered as more than blobs of various shades in its improved vision. On unsteady legs, it had lurched into confusion, a low drone escaping many mouths. Wings had then whirred into a frenzy, and the noise's pitch had risen to a siren wail. Unused to the new perspective, flight proved difficult; colliding against the jagged walls of the Crags as often as it did, lifting off could have been considered miraculous due to the absurd amount of cuts and bruises inflicted to achieve such. But, nevertheless it was accomplished, however questionable the method of wild thrashing and screeching whenever failing to clear a rocky ridge seemed, and the monster had struck out to find the doctor it so wished to repay.

All this had occurred some while before Relic had returned to the realm of conscious Gembound, and now the fruits of a disappointing search were being carried back to the spot in the form of additional scrapes and a few sore areas more. Shrouded by the pervasive fog of the cave, sheer size could not be counted upon to announce its presence. Besides the usual buzzing, the crash of trees followed by the thwack of flesh against stone would be what heralded its arrival.

Stick limbs lanced out of the blanketing whiteness to wedge themselves into the space housing the encampment. Ignorant to the volume behind it, a screech split the air.

"Frrrieeenddd? Fun frrriennd?" Karambit loomed overhead. Ruby button eyes glared down at the warm shape beneath its bulk but could not decipher their identity. "Isss that you, fun doc-torrrr?"

As if to make up for the inability to interpret what it saw, the tingling sensation of magic began spreading across the gleaming surface of every eye. But instead of helping, it succeeded only in producing pain. Shades of cold, cool, warm, and hot flickered and erupted into a jittering, headache-causing expanse akin to static. Although more pleasantly surprised by the sudden agony than upset, Karambit shrieked and stumbled back a couple steps, heedless to anyone that might risk being caught by the swing of its hooked claws.

"Whhaaat? Wheerrrre you go!"

Inexperienced as it was with reading heat signatures, it was a wonder it'd even managed to navigate its way back here. But that was typical of the monster—being so clueless and yet somehow still alive.

Much as the fall of rain in heavy sheets across one's vision could not be cleared away by a simple shake of the head or a single wipe of an arm across the face, so too was absolute sensory overload incapable of being banished by a few seconds worth of flailing confusion. While the myriad buttons comprising Karambit's sight had given up entirely on interpreting the vast input received, blackness overtaking what'd been various shades of temperature, smell and sound and touch endeavored their best to meet the same level of cozy, overwhelming discomfort achieved. The steps of the Doctor-Maybe-Not-Doctor's retreat echoed as hammer thuds against flesh. Its backward stumble propelling it into the sharp edges of the Crags, cuts were felt far more intimately than their quick infliction deserved. Fog lay heavy over antennae and drifted into every gaping maw to better introduce the scent of condensation.

But that water carried as well the aroma of all who touched it. Whether furred, feathered, or scaled, traces of their presence resided in those tiny droplets, and Karambit—in accordance with its monstrous heritage—drooled as smell connected readily to taste. Fun's unique odor unfamiliar due to their acquaintance being a fleeting one and its limited mind torn multiple directions by so many sensations at once, the difference between meddling bird creature and pumpkin-headed hyena couldn't be discerned. No closer to clarity than before, it blundered in figurative and literal darkness for the answers it sought.

"Doc-torrrr?" Antennae clattered as its head turned, their vertebrae colliding as they whipped to and fro. Ropy strings of saliva dripping from the insect's main mandibles swung about, the hunger of the giant ill-repressed. "Wherrre'rrrrre you?"

"Why you make it darrrk?" it whined. "Only want to thank you!"

"Krrrrmmm?"

Guided by watering taste buds, the two main sets of polished ruby embedded into the monster's skull fixed their gleam in the vague direction of the Doctor-Revealed-Not-Doctor. Mandibles clacked together as rusty mental wheels slowly spun and squealed away, processing the new information imparted to it. Silence a rarity few would be blessed to receive in Karambit's looming presence, buzzing accompanied this moment of puzzling, as usual the eternal backing track to a destructive existence.

"Rrrrreeel-ick?" it echoed. Confusion oscillated its voice between rumbling low notes and piercing high ones. "Not doc-torrr?"

As its assortment of eyes were incapable of squinting nor did it possess the sight currently to better pinpoint the stranger's position, more exaggerated body language conveyed the desire for understanding: spindly legs swayed and cracked beneath imposing bulk as Karambit leaned its head and thorax closer to the ground. Saliva continued to drip from its maw and pool below like a repulsive water feature. Oblivious to any reactions which might be drawn by its behavior, the screeches following this did not diminish in volume.

"Fun doc-torrr frrriend made Karrrram-bit prreetty! Im-prrrooved!" The rancid stench of rotting flesh was carried on a hot blast of air, the new piece of vocabulary added to its limited repertoire declared with a particular ear-bleeding gusto. "Was verrrry nice. Now need to rrreeturn favorrrr and make frrriend prrreetty too!"

Never mind that the dear Doctor hadn't actually accepted its offer to do a makeover of its own. Or that it had no way of telling if the procedure had, in fact, made it a more gorgeous specimen of meat creature. Karambit trusted easily the promises of potential friends and saw little reason not to pursue some grotesque form of payment for the kind services rendered.

At last the darkness blanketing Karambit's vision was giving way to something else. Those blotches of varying shades, the values associated with them yet to be deciphered, which had dominated prior to temporary blindness began to fade back in. They started as small spots, slightly brighter than the background they fell upon. Then, like ink blots, they spread to form vague shapes, their meaning left to interpretation and the information obtained by other senses.

A prickle of magic, far less intense than the previous, touched every eye. The image before it sharpened at the edges so that every object became more defined, less blended into the environment. Where once its head had glanced every which way, straining to follow Relic's voice over the sound of its own buzzing, it now fixed in a single position. Gleaming button eyes stared directly at her and the spit sprayed all over as it answered the question directed at it.

"Doc-torrr im-prrooved!" Karambit repeated. The concept of thermal vision outside its range of knowledge, the monster struggled to put words to its present experience. "See evvverrrything! See things thrrrough thick water!" By this, it meant the fog so prevalent in Cetus. "But," it continued on to whine, "colorrr gone."

It would miss that: the reds and pinks found whenever it tore open a new friend, the blacks as the prettiness inside became another form of beautiful through the process of decomposition. Furthermore, would it be able to find Creo or its other silent companion again once it returned to Leo? Neither would call out to let it better locate them, and the thought of losing both in the jungles of home made its buzzing dip momentarily to a less overwhelming level.

The annoying intensity of the sound returned with rising enthusiasm upon addressing the topic of wings. "Krmmmm, Doc-torr did good!" It nodded, the leathery appendages upon its own back whirring as they flittered. "Flying is fun. I can show how if you want! Neverrr get to show frrriends how to fly!"

The offer was a dubious one; considering how unadjusted it was to its new sight, the better way to describe such a lesson might be instead how not to fly.

Regardless of the lack of similar enthusiasm from what the insect already had begun mentally referring to as its newest friend, the acceptance of its tutelage made Karambit wiggle in place. Entire bulk lurching side to side, its long tail lashed behind and bashed against rock. Teeth embedded in the tip ground at the unyielding, jagged surface while tentacles writhed about for no particular reason besides unbridled ecstasy. If this were not enough to announce how pleased it was at the current turn of events, the squealing accompanying the ruckus guaranteed there'd be no mistaking the emotions coursing through vibrating flesh.

"Yessss!" it buzzed, frontmost set of claws scraping massive gouges into the earth. "Will show the bessstest way to fly! Am an ex-pert!"

Legs straightened and locked in place as Karambit shot up to its full towering height. Whirring wings stilled and silence fell, the monster abruptly morphing into an eerie statue standing in the fog-shrouded Crags. The sudden shift was all a part of its attempt at teaching, an effort exerted to erect a facade of professionalism—ultimately, a useless one, falling apart instantly once toothy mandibles parted again. No amount of intimidating posing could conceal such blatant eager stupidity.

"First," started the instructions, "wings havve to moovve. Havvve to feel them. And... and..."

Antennae clattered together, a word strained for. Squirming accompanied the struggle until, at last, it screamed, "Flex! Get usssed to them!"

A demonstration followed: where wings attached to the thorax, meat churned around. Whatever muscles existed there contorted the surrounding area. Squelches sounded out with the regular compression and expansion of Karambit's midsection; the usual rapid flutter of its appendages had been slowed down to a flap every few seconds.

"Like thisss!" it declared, proud of the meager accomplishment. "Now," a wailing insistence, "you trrrry!"