She did not venture out from Orion often, though she often yearned for someplace brighter, warmer, greener, filled with more life than the Room of Stars. An intense feeling of… homesickness, or whatever it was, tethered her to that place. She feared that if she wandered too far, something might
happen to the colony of bats that had become her family, sort of. It didn’t make very much sense to her, but a gnawing sense of anxiety and loneliness always drew her back before she spent too long away from home.
But this tunnel didn’t count as wandering far, did it? The ivory dog made her way through it with slow, hesitant steps, craning her neck to look around her with wide eyes and a twitching nose. The moss here
glowed. The air was
sweet. It was so… lovely.
When she had traveled the length of the tunnel, from the
proximal Orion entrance to the distal Polaris entrance, though, she stopped. Somehow, stepping into another room entirely felt terribly scary and new, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her ears twitched uncertainly, and she lifted a paw only to take a slow step back from the entrance.
Maybe it was time to go home? She didn’t like to go terribly long without company, even if chirping, wordless bats were the only form of company she’d known.
@Legion
There was this kind of... indistinct buzzing sound filling the tunnel. Parthenium's ears flicked once, twice with irritation as she craned about to search for its source. She went very still as, right before her eyes, what looked like specks and clumps of dirt dropped out from the moss on the tunnel walls and coalesced into... something that looked vaguely like her?
She had never seen anything like it before, and simply stood there, frozen with confusion. Her first thought was that maybe... she had
done something to trigger this hazy mirror image? Pools of water reflected a distorted version of herself sometimes, so maybe this tunnel was somehow special, and made reflections of the people who walked through it out of the very dust and earth that formed it?
Oh.
And the reflection spoke, too.
"Huh-hello," she answered tentatively. This was unusual, too! It spoke words, like the words that flowed through her head when she thought about things sometimes. The bats never did that. The syllables tumbling out of her mouth felt clumsy; she had never had the occasion to speak out loud before.
"I am Parrt--Parthenium. I am... not lost? Who - are - you?"
Legion was perhaps a name, like her own. But knowing it did not make Parthenium feel any more enlightened about
what exactly this indistinct cloud was.
"I mean... beyond Legion. I am a dog. 'm friends with bats," she added by way of clarification.
@Legion
Hello, Parthenium! How strange, that a simple greeting should send such a thrill through the ivory dog. Her heart thrummed with joy at the excitement in the strange cloud's buzz; here at last was someone who would speak to her, and who would maybe... be her friend?
The bats were her friends, of course, and she loved them dearly. But here was a chance to make another!
"Ah!" she gasped, softly, in wonder, as the her-shaped cloud became thinner and more amorphous, and she could even single out individual mites for a moment. "I have never... seen someone like you before! But you have one name." One name, for so many little mites. Parthenium wondered how many there were--how long would it take, if she were to try and count them all? She tried to imagine what such an attempt would be like. Orion was so dark, so she pictured spending an entire afternoon somewhere well-lit--like this tunnel, perhaps, but she liked the weather a bit warmer, though the sweet air and the greenness of the moss had her heart thoroughly enraptured--with this cloud, Legion. The image was enchanting.
Legion's admission of loneliness, and the delicate hope and excitement of its subsequent question, sparked an emotion that felt so warm and yearning and yet so much like someone had dipped her heart in acid. Parthenium's heart broke for the little cloud at the same time as she craved its friendship. "They are very sweet," she told it, sitting down and tilting her head to look up at the swarm with deep brown eyes. "They do not speak, but they chirp at me when they come and go, and make comforting chitters when I'm scared. They let me have a little of their food, sometimes." It was really very kind of them, to take her in when she had been nothing but a helpless puppy, terrified of falling. "Yes! I want to be friends with you. I want--" She floundered for words for a moment. How could she describe the immense desire to love, and be loved? To always have someone by her side--never alone?
She settled on "I think you're really nice," though it did not seem like the best way of expressing what she felt. "I want to be friends with nice people. I think we should all be friends with one another and-- and-- and then people would have lots of friends. And no one would have to be lonely, because loneliness is awful, and we'd all love each other and explore bright pretty places like this tunnel with lots of friends, and--" She realized she was rambling. "Ah, I'm sorry. It just seems like a happy image. You know?" she tried hopefully.
Legion knew what she meant, right?
The bats never responded with words when she spoke to them. She picked up on subtle hints through tone: this chirrup was meant to be reassuring, that squeak was surprise, those chirps were totally uncomprehending. She stared up at Legion, eyes wide, wondering what the response of someone who could speak would be.
@Legion