ORIGIN

For all the advantages a higher level of intellect brought, Lessers consistently outstripped Greaters in a single important category: pure survival instinct. The caves plagued by rampaging monsters and sadistic creatures of every size, most had long ago learned it was best to stay far away from the familiar noises associated with potential violence, lest their family tree be pruned ever smaller. Gembounds, however, weren't so guaranteed to have received that same memo. Whether driven by bravery or stupidity, they might approach the belligerent and offer a concerned ear for their rage at the risk of it being torn off.

"Ah... Is anything the matter over here?"

And here came the first to prove the point, his aforementioned ears large enough to accommodate an entire heaping pawful of Peppermince's grievances.

"Sorry," Richter murmured a few hops behind the gargantuan mass of fluff. Regardless of how well or not his interruption of this venting session would be received, he bashfully ducked his head away from drawn attention. "I, uh, just couldn't help overhearing. You seemed mighty twisted up over something, so I figured... Well, heck, why not? Always helps me to talk something out. And I mean, you're doing that already—the talking—but maybe getting actual words back might help you a little better."

Volume grew alongside confidence as he gradually gained surer footing in his speech. A natural predisposition toward fascination instead of wariness caused a twinkle to emerge in stormy gray eyes once they finally dared peer closer at the towering being before him. Claws twitched upon observation of the ring gleaming within nostrils capable of snorting out a buffeting gale, yet politeness restrained the kangaroo from invading personal space farther to better admire the oversized jewelry's craftsmanship.

Regardless of the half of a heart behind the gesture, it'd have been rude to not return the wave Peppermince sent his way. Paws which had wound around each other while waiting for a response from the giant now pulled themselves apart to duplicate it, Richter's swaying wrist certainly more decisive and enthusiastic than what was mirrored. In no particular rush, he nodded encouragement as his newfound conversation partner fumbled about for words, then rooted feet in place to remain standing once the ground quaked beneath the sudden weight introduced to it. Nevertheless knees quivered, and any resulting awkwardness from the threatening instability was redirected into idly grooming a drooping ear. Perhaps this fidgeting also meant to reduce the intense gaze that fell upon him; it certainly had the additional effect of providing stimulus to focus on in the absence of an immediate answer.

"Well," he drawled, considering the question, "if you mean those strange happenings that everybody seems to cause a little of, then... well, ah, yes... I suppose I do. Know magic, that is. Don't have the foggiest idea what most would call 'my kind,' but I can tell you what it does. I make an energy of sorts? That's the best I can think of it. Sometimes I move my claws just right and, uh, sparks fly."

"I don't know if you'd be all right with a demonstration. It tingles a bit, but mostly it hurts. Now, I don't fault anyone for liking a bit of pain. However, I figure usually they prefer not to experience that unless they absolutely have to."

Not the type to forget faces so easily, even though he was well-travelled enough to encounter a fair share of them, the sight of Mocha's waddling form evoked a second instance of waving. "Hey, why thanks!" accompanied his greeting. "Nice to see you and your squirmy friend again. Now, maybe this isn't my place to say—sorry if I'm assuming too much here—but I think this fella here wouldn't mind your help either. Don't have an idea what magic he needs, but might as well offer any you can, right?"

"Oh, sorry," Richter said. He swiped a paw down his snout, wiping it of the unfortunate long distance spray he'd been subjected to, then shuffled awkwardly in a circle to put additional space between himself and Peppermince. "Didn't realize I was tickling your schnozz there."

Despite prickling questions about how exactly one could breathe out such a stunningly cold gust as that which crystallized before his very eyes, the demonstration was attended to in quiet. This courtesy extended further once Mocha took the initiative and leapt at the chance of throwing all the air he could muster into an attempt at imitation. Despite the end result qualifying as nothing more than a failure, a small clap and encouraging murmur of "that's some mighty good form you've got there" was offered. Sure, it hadn't worked out for the younger Gembound yet, but certainly the enthusiasm exhibited would bear good fruit once he had another try.

All attention turned to him now, and this fact was acknowledged by an awkward shrug. "Here goes, I guess." The remark, though fizzling with uncertainty, overall was chipper. After all, no high stakes were in sight: either he showed magic breath or he didn't, and no harm existed in giving it a shot.

Letting his wrists dangle at his sides, Richter's entire body tensed while he drew into his lungs every ounce of oxygen possible to contain. The combination of his effort and jittery nerves caused him to vibrate in place. On the verge of bursting apart, his head tilted up and unleashed everything held within onto the surrounding world.