ORIGIN

Don't worry... won't lose me... this fox... what he can do... hang in there please. The bond was weakening, slowing down, words lumbering across instead of their usual instantaneous travel. The fog was rolling in fast, clouding Booker's side of their connection, and the numbat retched again, breathing through his open mouth, baring sharp teeth up at his captor. The hearing loss he'd attained had worsened from the stress, and now a fine, droning whine had made itself at home in his ears, blocking out almost everything but what was said through the bond itself.

Baratheon's furious roar came through soft as a whisper, but Booker still flinched, grimacing when the motion sent him further into the fox's grip. Then, his nose twitched, and the anger, the rage, gave way to fear, to helplessness, terror. The scent of death was heavier now, and distantly, the tiny Gembound could feel the predator's hot breath panting over his face. Trying to focus, Booker watched, horrified, as mucus, thick and stinking of disease and rot, dripped from the fox's maw. The creature said something to his brother, and then - then -

Booker sat, frozen, shaking, whimpering at the feel of a rough tongue licking him "clean" of the infected gunk. Regardless of what he'd been through in his relatively short life, this was the worst. He felt... violated, on a deeper level than even seeing his home destroyed. Then, the reality of what had just occured set in, and his wheezing picked up speed, pupil constricting even further, darting to stare at Baratheon in blind panic. Bara, I can't, I can't, Booker mumbled as the disease took root, robbing him of what little strength he had left, slowing his breathing down to soft gasps as it sapped him of his energy.

Don't... listen... to him! I will not lose a-anyone else.

[ Booker is now infected with botulism. ]

"Baratheon Speech"

The dragon's eyes slitted angrily at the fox's comment. How dare he? Actually, Baratheon knew why he dared. He had Booker and he had some foul substance in his mouth. "You're one to talk, half-face, with that disgusting slop in your mouth." He snarled, voice barely more than a low growl. What was he even doing? Coughing and dying? If only his luck was that good. Instead the fox started to lick all over his tiny brother which caused more rage to bubble up from Baratheon. He let out a full-throated hiss. His jaws lowered down and snapped his jaws at Louie. Perhaps if he'd lost control of himself he would have snapped up the fox's head but he held back.

The red haze was threatening to take over all of his being and with the new fear that oozed from Booker it was getting worse. Protect. Kill. Protect. Kill. Was starting to be repeated in his mind. It was getting louder and louder and threatening to take over all of his thoughts and being. If that happened he was unsure of what he would do or what would happen. Those weak thought-spoken words from Booker... It infuriated him that this fox would do this to someone as kind as his numbat friend! Why did he not pick on someone his own size? Bully... He was nothing but a bully!

Protect! Kill! Protect! Kill!

His clenched his eyes shut as more of the wretched fox's words washed over his ears. Red. Everything was turning red. Behind his eyes, his thoughts... He couldn't lose himself... The sickness. He could feel the truth of the fox's words and if he killed him it would do nothing but seal Booker's fate. I can't let anything happen to you... I... I won't... He could no more let Booker die than he could rip off his own wings. No matter what the fox wanted... He had to give in to his demands or risk the consequences. He rose onto his hind legs and opened his eyes as he screamed --a sound akin to a banshee's call and claws tearing down a chalkboard-- to the sky in frustration and anger. They were almost completely red as was the scenery around him.

He roared at the fox and raised one paw as he slashed downwards. However, he did not hit the fox but instead hit a bush beside him which effectively turned it into ribbons. Protect! Kill! He couldn't! He lowered down onto all four paws and paced back and forth. His mouth was pulled back into a snarl, ears pinned, eyes slitted as he panted. The dragon was less like a greater gembound now and more like a caged beast pacing behind the bars of a cage as it plotted in vain on how to get out.

He let out another heart-wrenching scream as he threw his head back and forth, horns tearing up the foliage above him. He couldn't stop moving, he had too much energy. The Bloodlust almost completely had him and if he didn't keep moving he would surely turn and attack the fox. He slashed at foliage around him and screamed his anger in a blinding rage... But he knew he was beaten.

He couldn't speak. He'd lost the ability in his partial Bloodlust but he could still hear and understand though one might not be able to tell with his nearly rampaging state.

Even just watching as his bacteria began to eat away at Booker insanity made him feel powerful. It was hard for him to ignore the feelings of satisfaction and bliss from watching as his victim squirmed and suffered due to him, and he wondered if that was entirely a bad thing. Screams. That broke Louie's confidence and he found himself shrinking back slightly, but he didn't get off of the numbat's arms. Those claws lashed out and he closed his eyes in certainty that he had finally met his match. That his ego really had been the death of him and that maybe he wouldn't be the purge Origin Cave needed.

There was an intense serendipity about opening his one eye and finding he wasn't dead. He still remained where he was standing but the bush behind him was no more. Swallowing deeply, he tried to choose his next words with a bit more tact. Baratheon really was a force to be reckoned with and he had no intention of overstepping the line and finding himself becoming good. At least, not consciously, but his subconscious certainly was an idiot sometimes. Still he continued to scream and shriek, those horns and claws were flailing and slashing at everything but he watched as none came into contact with him.

He had won, he had broken the dragon by capturing his rider.

As it had been before, it was hard to stop himself giggling, but he broke into hearty laughter instead. Not the approach he had been hoping to go for but he couldn't stop it. "You're mine now dragon. Both of you are." This had been his first test of his concoction and it had worked. My would Diamondfang be pleased with the treasure he had claimed this time. Allowing himself to get off the numbat as he was certain he was in no mood to make a dash for cover as he was pretty much dying. Poor baby. Snorting, Louie looked to the pink dragon before he stooped down low and picked up the numbat gingerly in his teeth before slinging him onto his red coated back.

If he could trust the dragon wouldn't snatch him up, he would request they both ride on the man's back but he figured that would come when he watched how he haphazardly carried the rodent back home to Monoceros. Baby dwagon wouldn't want his widdle friend to be hurtykins. "Dragon. If you have a name say it and if he has a name that'd be useful too. I am Louie of the Merry Men." Irony wasn't something that Louie could truly grasp by stating the name of their group, "You two, are going to be coming with me. I'll keep your friend alive but until I've figured out a use for you guess who you get the pleasure of hanging out with?"

Booker shivered uncontrollably, grimacing, losing his grip on the waking world for the moment, focusing all of his energy on his bonded. S-stay with me, Bara. I can't lose you, and neither can Diot, he sent across, trying to add in a burst of trust and a side of love. Whatever happens, ya need ta stay awake, okay? D-don't give in to the bloodlust. The anger, the rage, the helplessness that burned through Baratheon's mind was palpable, as biting as any flame. Still, the numbat tried to calm the torrent, reaching across the bond to tug at the dragon's mind, as if to shake him out of the haze.

It might have worked, too, if his concentration wasn't so swiftly broken. Teeth and hot breath clamped onto Booker's back, digging into skin and spore-clouded fur. The numbat hissed, eye flashing open, pinning Louie with a deadly glare. Even as he tried to combat the anger, Baratheon's own distress fed into his own, and for a moment Booker was tempted to try to close the connection, somehow, save his brother from himself, from having to suffer through the fear of losing his bondmate... but a moment was all it took before the tiny Gembound pushed the thought aside, writhing in the fox's grip before being dropped haphazardly onto the predator's back.

Wincing as the fall sent the rest of his weakening air supply wooshing out of his lungs, Booker grunted, making sure to dig tiny, needle-sharp claws into the fox's hide, a weak, satisfied grin flashing across the numbat's snout. It wouldn't do much, but at this point, he had nothing left to lose. Louie could kill him, but considering the disease that was festering throughout Booker's body, he probably already had. The fox couldn't touch Baratheon, especially not after his Rider was gone. No, Booker's duty now was to try and protect Baratheon from the same fate. It was kind of poetic, in a way. Maybe now he could pay back that unpayable debt, incurred from being nurtured by one of the very beasts that could have easily stepped on him, eaten him, tortured him as a babe. To be raised by such a brave, beautifully burning soul... it was more than he could repay.

Or, perhaps, just enough to repay. "Louie. I'll re-mem-ber that," Booker grunted, hissing out the words between gasps. "I'll be the only one after you're drag'n food," he promised, turning his head to stare at the side of the fox's snout, confidence making the words strong. "He's Baratheon. I'm Booker. 'n you've made a really big mis-take." A croaking laugh, and then a cough, brow furrowed. The numbat wretched again, mucous clogging his throat, eyelid uncontrollably sliding half-closed.

Wait. Merrymen. The name sparked something in his memory, and Booker closed his eye, feigning sleep, trying to grasp the fleeing reminder. Then it hit him with the force of a thousand thundrous snarls: Magdalena. She had mentioned her family, her friends, the ones called the Merrymen. Booker grimaced, scratching at his face, trying to shake away the recollection. It couldn't be right, could it? Magdalena was kind, she had helped him, had helped Delphine, had stayed his friend even after Baratheon's rampage. This couldn't be her family.

Still, he had to know. Booker struggled to lift his head a bit, turning further towards Louie's face, and grimacing, drawling out the words, unfamiliar with their language. "Finis... originae... pende."

"Baratheon Speech"


The words, as distant as they sounded were enough to stop the dragon from screaming and lashing about with claws and fangs. The words weren't outwardly spoken but in his head, given from his brother. Stay? He could hardly understand what was being spoken. It was hard to concentrate on words. Words didn't equal action. Words were pointless to the Bloodlust and he had stopped moving. He nearly lost himself if not for the emotions that Booker sent across. Trust. Love. The Bloodlust didn't like that. Protection. Killing. Hunger. Death. That's what it knew. Baratheon was able to grapple back into his own mind and hold onto the tenuous bond that held onto his sanity. He had to focus on what Booker sent over from their bond

For... you... The words were strained, distant, barely comprehending as he thought them to Booker. For him he would do the impossible, he would try to wrestle down his urge. To keep it under control... He would attempt to do it until the torrent of calmness from Booker's side was swiftly cut off as Louie touched him. He could feel the fangs like they were in the back of his own scruff, invasive, foreign, unwelcome. He let out a scream as if he could feel sharp bite. The hold was broken and he turned his blood-colored eyes to the fox. He glared hatred at him and in that gaze was a touch of hunger. He wanted his blood... He wanted to eat him...

He took a step but stopped. Can't. Booker. Gaze flicked to the numbat on the red back. Protect! Can't... His lips pulled back in a snarl at the fox's question. Even if he hadn't lost the urge to speak he probably wouldn't have answered the question anyway. Just because he had temporarily found a way to keep his fangs at bay it didn't mean that he belonged to anyone. He was not a thing to be tamed and it burned his blood to take orders from anyone. The fox might have thought that he was in control but it was only temporary until Baratheon figured out a way to destroy, to rend, to tear apart and devour... His head was still raised, not in a submissive posture. His wings were half-raised, making him seem larger, also not submissive. His lips were pulled back in a threatening gesture as well as the flattened ears. He was not beaten yet. He was the alpha... not the fox. He was king and if he could he would show the half-face. One day... one day he would unleash his rage upon the demon...

But for now...

He continued to glare, obviously wanting to eat the fox but only holding because of Booker, because of that Bond of emotion that his smidgen of sane self clung to like a crutch. If he let go he would surely kill Louie and Book all in one fell swoop. He could focus on no words, he could hardly understand them anyway, he could only focus on his burning hatred and hunger and his Bonded's emotion.

If this was a big mistake than Louie was a complete idiot. Which some might argue he was as he stood with the rider of the largest creature in Origin on his back. Tail twitching, he knew the only thing that was keeping his four paws on this Earth was the knowledge that Booker would certainly die without him. It also made him feel fear, as he had never killed someone purposefully before and the sensation of doing so... Well he had never tried it and frankly he wasn't sure he was game enough too. With a shaky breath, even after his confident speech he listened to Booker talk and merely rolled his eyes at the numbat's rambling. Booker and Baratheon.

What pathetic names.

"Well, Booker and Baratheon, best you start touching up your fighting skills as I have a job for you." Absolutely brimming with pride at his triumph over this dragon, even with his failure of the last, his gemstone was glowing from where it lay nestled under his layers of fur. Beginning to set off at a sluggish pace as he had the weight of the boy on his back, he could hear the incapacitated try to get words out. What those words were actually almost caused him to throw Booker on the ground and tear off his head. Stopping dead still after walking nearly did just that as he found himself shaking.

"Don't you EVER fucking say that you piece of shit. I will tear your head off before Bara-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is can ever save you do you fucking here me?" If he knew he wouldn't have to lift the numbat after tossing him to the ground he would certainly do it. But he would have to pick him up again which was a drag. Fuming, he had no idea who to punish within Merry Men and who would suffer for spreading their code. That was in order to determine who was and who wasn't one of them. Not some saying to be thrown around by commoners. Without even looking at the pink dragon, he increased his pace, careful not to disturb Booker too much as his vision already saw him crashing through the undergrowth.

There would be hell to pay at this meeting.

Booker glared, fur puffing up, sending out a wave of spores into the air. Hope they get in his eyes, the numbat thought with an aggravated hiss. He wasn't one to wish harm on others, and even with all that Louie had done, would do, he still didn't want him to die - but annoyed? Absolutely. "If ya came lookin' for fighters ya coulda asked," he rumbled, purposefully aiming his next wretch closer to the fox's pelt. "I'm... not... a fighter," he panted, trying to slow his fluttering heart. As much as he wanted it to be false, it was, indeed, the truth - Booker was no brawler, much as it would help. His lot in life was that of the spellslinger, and though the idea of rooting mushrooms into Louie's skin was tempting, he'd probably die quicker.

When the fox came to a halt, Booker idly thought of jumping off of his back, falling to relative safety - but that train of thought screeched to a stop at Louie's words. A giggle escaped the tiny Gembound's lips, then another, and in an instant, he was outright guffawing hysterically, chest heaving in amusement. "Try it! Do it!" The words were spit out, light but burning with bone-deep anger. "Show off, foxy! We're all gonna die eve-en-chew-ally," he murmured, turning his snout to grin hazily at his captor. "Ya seem pretty keen to 'elp me along that journey," Booker added, another laugh slipping from between clenched teeth as pain wracked through his body.

"You ain't got the guts. Yer... makin'... a big... mistake," the numbat huffed out, vision fading, spitting onto the ground and wincing at the sight of red-tinted saliva. Not good. As the fox started to walk again, Booker finally gave up on consciousness, slipping into the void with an exhausted, frightened sigh, eye fluttering shut unwillingly. Sorry, Bara, he sent across, before tumbling down, down, down, into fire and fog.

[ Exit Booker ]

"Baratheon Speech"


More words from the half-face... then there were less than kindly spoken words. Bara's lips curled up into a snarl and after Booker spoke he let out a fierce roar as if to accent his words but really it was in response to the fox's anger. It was an obvious warning but still he could do nothing. It hurt... It made him all the more angrier that he couldn't actually back up the words but one thing was certain. If Louie did kill his brother then nothing would keep Bara from his throat. Nothing short of death would stop his vengeance.

That sliver of sanity focused on the bond, focused on his brother which was the only thing keeping him from slipping. When he felt his Bonded going into unconsciousness he grasped, dread creeping into his heart. Dread... Dread wasn't anger, nor was it hatred. Dread was not a Bloodlust emotion... not one that it understood.

The haze started to slip away with Booker's unconsciousness. With his righteous anger gone the dragon felt an emptiness within himself. Words still wouldn't come easily, no, not when half-face was still walking before him. Whenever he looked at the fox he could feel the rage wanting to come back and if he lost himself again he didn't know if he'd be able to pull himself back. Even the shock of dread to his Bloodlust probably wouldn't stop the haze if he allowed himself the satisfaction of glaring into that red pelt. The dragon's pink eyes instead lowered to the ground. For now he would be compliant but as soon as he saw an opening then he would strike the half-face down.

But now...

He looked at the unconscious form of his bonded. Even though he was still alive he felt the void of conscious thought like a yawning hole in his soul. It hurt... He had failed... He hadn't been there in time... If only he had... If only... A single tear rolled down the dragon's muzzle while he stared stubbornly at the ground. One thing was for certain, he would not be late again and never again would he allow someone to harm his brother. This would be the first and last time.