The last time the beast had been seen in the caves, he had been but a calf. A small, lanky thing slowly growing into his body, and into the connection solidly programmed into his mind, and then...he had slept. For a long time.
Too long.
The rainbow moonstone attached to the wall was massive. Glittering under the lights, facets of colors painted across its bright surface, stationed not far from the entrance to Eridanus. It had been there for a while, but now...something inside was coming alive again. A flip of the switch. Consciousness rushed in and returned.
And with that consciousness, came the Hive. He had not fallen asleep before the link had fully matured, merely soon after. They were far from him, most of them were, but he could feel them. And, eager to rejoin those that had become family entwinned in thought, he broke free from his cage.
The shattering sound echoed across the tunnels and the bison barreled his way forward from it, quickly regaining his footing as scatters of iridescent white gemstone scattered around the path he made. He cantered to the cross-way of the tunnel and stopped, swinging his head. He would go to them - to Ursa. He had wanted to go before, but Mother said he was too young.
Well...he was not young anymore.
Cyneweard hasn't been doing so well, recently. He was trying- of course he was trying! But he was running out of options, and time. What was he going to tell Horizon and Coliean, when it finally took hold? No- if, IF the infection won. But more and more it seemed like it
And caves, he was scared. And tired. and tired of being scared and tired. And he wasn't sure what he could possibly do, anymore, but at the same time he knew he couldn't just do
It was this restlessness that lead him to wander despite himself. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going- Polaris, maybe? Going there did make him feel better sometimes, however briefly.
The hive's link had been steadily strengthening over the course of a cycle, and while it still wasn't quite solid enough to allow true communication, it was now a nearly omnipresent murmuring in the back of his mind. A murmur that now resonated with the presence of someone nearby.
Aegis might be able to feel Cyneweard's spiking panic through the fledgling link, or he might just see the knight freeze stock-still, gaze locking on to the bison.
He had just been about to stretch out his legs when his attention really caught on the presence of someone nearby - both through the link and the physical feeling of being watched. He turned his head and locked eyes with Cyneweard.
A few things came to him in that moment - first, this was not a Drone. Not like Pallas or the others he had felt distantly many cycles ago. And also, this was not like the Lessers that had led him around as a child, hosts of Mother's will. It was something connected, but distant. He wondered...was that what he had felt like, when he was a child, to the others? There, but held by a string?
This one was infected, but not a Host. Part-way through to the full connection. At least, that was what he understood.
He snorted softly and turned fully to face Cyneweard.
And maybe Aegis would be told- either by Mother herself or a sibling- how not everyone understood Mother's gift as what it was. That when faced with true unconditional love they could only see it as a trap, because they could not trust something so magnanimous to be real. How the ignorant painted their unity as something suffocating rather than comforting. When faced with something so much bigger than themselves they could only fear it, because they could not understand it.
And even without that link, those treacherous shared thoughts Cyneweard couldn't quite block off, it was clear how much this was wearing away at him. How tired he was, how scared. All of it a unnecessary struggle against an inevitable, patient fate.
He kept his eyes locked on Aegis, fear palpable on his face as he backpedaled, trying to keep his distance as the bison tried to close it. The battle axe in his hand buzzed in time with his own anxious heart, but the thought of using it against Aegis, even defensively, sent bile and guilt climbing up his throat.
@Aegis
Aegis looked skeptical. Confusion, gentle and soft, touched Cyneweard's connection. Why was it afraid? They should not be afraid.
He did not stop, slowly moving forward, not threatening but not relenting.
He simply needed to understand that this was a good thing. And then everything would be solved. Everything would be fine!
He raised his axe a fraction and instantly his hands spasmed and the axe clattered to the floor. Pain flashes through his head, a reprimand at the mere thought of harming a sibling and- had he actually intended on doing that? It was hard to think, the nauseating guilt so intense he gagged hollowly against it. He just wanted this to stop. This fake comfort. He wanted Aegis to stop trying to convince him this was a
@Aegis
Perhaps this wasn't working. The bison looked confused, and a little hurt, that Cyneweard was reacting so poorly. He continued to move forward, and when the sibling did no longer move away, he got next to him and carefully reached out with his muzzle and gently nudged him with his nose. A sign of comfort. He did not have to be alone.
But he could feel distress. He didn't understand, but he thought maybe he was making it worse. Perhaps they simply did need some time. He eyed the weapon that had been dropped, shocked that they had even thought about hurting him, but it seemed all danger had passed now, at least.
@Cyneweard