ORIGIN

Giggle rocked back on her haunches, scratching behind one rounded ear with a back leg. Dander and fungal spores tumbled out, drifting away. She sat for a moment, after, studying the open gate with wry half-interest.

So this is the place.

The door that had stood steadfastly shut, sealed by its many rings, until her son and others had used cunning and magic to at last wrest it open. The door, beyond which, lay--by all accounts--a real bastard, and the potential for a magical ascension.

She'd not bothered with it, prior, but something had been weighing on her as late. First, the Bonebound were--once more--all but defunct. This saddened her; she preferred to be surrounded by noise and light, by life and family. But it also concerned her. The fewer that stuck together, the harder it'd be to defend themselves and their home from any threats. Vaguely worrying concepts like "the Bloodberries" and the monsters that had once lurked in Tunnel P, the Masters that would force them into trials of life-or-death or take their children... Senka and her Void. Would it be fair if Giggle had not done all she could to learn to defend herself--would she not deserve her fate, if they came now, and she'd let her power stagnate? It wasn't a desire for strength or destruction that drove her, but a grim knowledge that she was more alone, perhaps, than she'd ever been.

That those few children that might remain might need her help. That she had to be prepared--in every way she could--to give it. A Bone King could have called more together, trained them, encouraged them, but her son did not seem very enthusiastic about his role and she wasn't about to push him. Hell, if anything, I feel guilty about it, she mused, dark eyes still trained on the black abyss beyond this gate. She wanted him to be happy, but she was never sure that the weight of leadership--even of a simple family--wasn't too much pressure on him. He'd risen to it admirably (and how she wished she could show him that, really and truly, form her perspective)--he'd always spoken well and shone like a king in a crown on every occasion. But she'd always gotten the sense that something weighed on him, a curse like that Azazel had once borne-...

No, she'd do this herself, not pester him about ominous maybes and what-ifs. It wasn't as if she felt particularly strongly about all this, anyway. No, she thought, pushing back up, taking a deep breath and flexing her shoulders, feeling Polaris's magic spark over her painted fur. It's just a precaution, that's all. Preparation--just in case. The bones, when consulted, had seemed to agree with her statement: a fractured, weakened present must lead to brighter improvement. (There'd been something odd, too, something she couldn't quite interpret--something about the past bringing dangers or something with it. She'd find out, in time. Giggle was patient.) She had a vague impression that it might go poorly--that failure might await her--but there would be no real danger in the attempt.

With that same critical eye, Giggle studied the gate one last time, then pushed forward, passing through it. Behind her, bade to wait with silent command, her familiar--Omen--beat black wings and soared the other way, searching for a safe perching place from which to watch for the hyena's return.

A deep breath, fear steeled against the darkness, and she called out with as strong a voice as she could muster. "EMUH? I am here to take your test!"

Her call might have been better called a "bellow," had her words not come rough and hoarse with long disuse.

She flinched a little, surprised, her large ears swinging backward at the owl-beast's harsh voice. Even as he spoke, her eyes were travelling over him, taking in details: the ragged and oily feathers, the strangely shifting aura, the curled ram's horns, the glowing green eyes.

He's one of them, she thought with dour humor, her mind flicking back to the likes of Vargas and Orthoclase-Alpha. She perhaps didn't know the word 'Valkhound,' or Corrupted, or what it meant--but the signs were clear enough: the oil and glowing horridness bound them all together.

When she opened black jaws to answer him, he simply vanished. She stumbled back, ears pinning as darkness engulfed her. Those black lips wrinkled up, instead, curling to expose thick teeth, as though somehow Giggle could possibly threaten a lack of light itself. Only the dim glow of the baubled stone at her neck gave her any sight at all, and suddenly she was faced with the fact that it almost made things worse: instead of real light, it only gave her the dimmest, most eerie glimpse of the ground just before her shifting into meat, its glow flashing and swinging erratically with the movement of her frightened stagger backward.

And then-... Light.

Meat.

...Bone?

Her eyes narrowed, and she paused, forcing herself to breathe. To think. All right, Giggs, we can do this, she told herself, though she felt the flutter of fear from Omen along their link. It took a moment to banish that fear (as best she could, anyway)--to breathe and to steady her pounding heart enough that she could hear her own thoughts over its thudding in her head.

Bone.
She was familiar enough with bone. She knew bone. She was Bonebound, after all: she lived beside bones, they spoke to her-...

Impulsive, but certain of her choice, the scarred hyena strode forward. She could hear the movement behind the wall, but she disregarded it, for now--though by no means ignored the ominous nature of the thumps and squeaks. But her attention was on the bones, and she reached up, touching a wet nose to them, pushing her mind and magic for them.

Speak to me, she requested of them. Tell me what this is. Show me what to do.
The Bone Seer was the reader of bones, after all: the conduit from the dead who had passed beyond to the living in the here-and-now. Whoever these were, she would honor them by listening, and hope that in return, they would guide her to survive whatever they had failed.

It did not occur to Giggle that these bones might be something... other.

She swore, thick and profusely, scrambling backward with overly-long forepaws swiping at her face. The words she used were foul: things she'd picked up and heard and mashed together over time, things that would have probably sent Astraea's ears pinning and Tenzin's eyes saucer-wide.

When it was over--when the magic faded, leaving her facepaint with a festering, moth-eaten look and her black muzzle wrinkled to bare thick fangs in disgust--her head snapped up.

At least it had not been too painful, but--What is that..?
Worry spiked higher. The dark. The unknown.

Why had she thought she could-

Fuck that. You can do this, Giggs, she snarled to herself, in silent thought. She had to. If danger came for Aure, for Eythan-

She shook herself off, bits of consumed paint falling away.

Right. Something was beyond this wall. She'd prefer to find out what, but barring that she'd need some way to defend herself. She had nowhere to go--meaning it would soon break through. She could try to control whatever it was on the other side--turn it to her own ends. She could drive it away with a mind full of hallucination-inducing spores. But--what if it was a giant, moving mushroom? Can the owl thing do that? Would her magic affect something like that at all?

I can't fight until it's out here. And I need to know what I'm up against.
She briefly examined her reasoning, found it sound, and knew there was no point in wasting time any further. Again she stepped forward, and tried to examine these bones. Perhaps she'd get a hint as to what she would be facing... and what she'd need to do next.

She watched in silence, body still as her mind was lost to imagery.

Something large, possibly dangerous... afraid of the light, she summarized. Just as she feared the darkness, this thing feared the light, and-

...As the visions cleared, she saw the hole eaten in the wall before her. Was this the test, then-? Did she have to press forward? Maybe defeat this thing inside, or... make it to the far end? She took a breath and stepped closer, careful not to get too close to the gap, studying it.

Fear prickled up along her spine, lifting the fur of her back, sending alarm screaming along her nerves. She was to go into the claustrophic dark, to deliberately walk into a pitch-black place where a predator was waiting for her?

It occurred to her, then, rather randomly, that this might not be a 'predator' at all. What if it were someone simply hiding, frightened, as she might be? She hesitated. She went over her options.

She intended to cover herself with inky caps. To send out a wisp, ahead, to light her way. But first she could get glowing mushrooms started up ahead, in case her other magics failed her. Giggle shook herself, dander falling from her coat, and tried to pick the spores she needed--sending her magic into them. With luck, the glowing, bioluminescent ones would take 'root' and spread forward. That, at least, might give her a backup--and a starting point.

Once she felt the magic infuse the spores, once the faint pinpricks of glow began to hopefully take root, she called out--still careful to keep her distance from that gap. "Hello?" Her voice was scratchy, a tremor in it (and she hated that--she was trying to sound unafraid... but she was terrified, her heart pounding in her ears). She swallowed, and tried again. "My name is Giggle. I am the Bone Seer. I want to pass through. Who are you?"

Well, this didn't bode well.

The little things were leaving her very, very little time to move--and rushing was the very last thing she wanted to do.

And the big thing--whatever and wherever it was--was ignoring her attempts at conversation completely. Giggle exhaled, coming to a quick decision. She hated the dark, and if she waited she'd be stuck in it. She guessed the big creature might well try to kill her--or the little ones might, for all she knew. Hell, maybe the big one was friendly, and her test was to walk straight through the dark.

Fuck that, though.

She took a breath and struck out while the little slimy beasts were hopefully distracted; while the big one, too, was perhaps kept at bay. Most importantly, while light yet lingered. She tried to ignore the terror that rose metallic on her tongue, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy.

And she sent spores out as she walked: plumes of influence that would--if she were lucky, and if her skill held--designate her as 'friend' to all she passed.