ORIGIN

White listened quietly to Black, though all she could hear was something along the lines of "Blah blah blah, dragon, blah blah, here to ruin our relationship as father and daughter, blah blah." She frowned as she was shoved forth towards Oliver, slowly sniffing her brother carefully.

He seemed a little weird. He flinched and he barely talked - was this thing really gonna take over her life? It'd have to try harder than that. Carefully, White sat down, head tilted. "... Have you seen the Spire?" she asked, not noticing the crow abruptly perking up and staring blankly at her.

Oliver, as bird-mother had said his name was, slowly shook his head and stammered a tiny 'no.' The hybrid stood back up onto all fours, beginning to hobble towards the Spire. "Come on. It's great."

She pretended not to notice the sharp squawk behind her telling them to be careful.

The dog watched, silent, lowering himself to massive haunches as the two young ones began to move off--the confident White, and the frightened, shy black pupchick behind her. He tilted his head, observing, evaluating; was it by nature timid, or had Eve sheltered it, impressed upon it the danger of the world? Perhaps she had restrained it, or perhaps young brought up by tiny, tiny mothers were naturally as afraid as their mothers must be?

Black eyed Eve. She did not look timid, or afraid--a bit nervous, perhaps, but he thought it was more about the social situation than any real fear. Then again, he wasn't that good at reading others--not in the standard way, at least. He shifted in place a bit, pondering his reply before actually speaking.

"He appears to be timid," he observed, to begin with. It was neutral, a statement, no accusation involved. "Broken, perhaps, in his movements. I wonder, by what cause? Was he born shy? Will he remain this way? Is it a fault, or a gift? What might the purpose of a frightened being be?"

He sounded almost to be speaking to himself, despite his pale eyes drilling holes into the crow, staring intently. White was clearly destined for great things: bright, angelic, confident. He knew not what her path might be, but he knew that once she found it, she would take great strides along it.

Oliver...? He wasn't sure. It seemed to be cowering along in the darkness. Perhaps it would grow out of it, and be a harbinger of shadow. He did not remember ever being a shy and flinching thing.

"...Perhaps he is no weapon, after all," he mused, aloud. Perhaps White was the success, and Oliver... not a failure, but a by-product, the chipped stone of Black's heart brought to life by a feeble and average magic. One not infused with Purpose, but with mere life, as was Fallah. It made the lynx no less precious, but it did change what she was.

Black simply did not see how a cringing pup could ever have Purpose. To him, it would mean dismissing the pup's importance from his mind; to Eve, perhaps, it might be a relief... or an insult.

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Oliver spared a glance at his "father," the hulking black hound staring at him in a way that chilled him. It wasn't warm, nor welcoming, but a calculating sort of evaluation that made him pull away, made him look to the welcome light of White instead.

"N-no," he stammered, and raised up to slink along behind her, stumbling over his own feet. He hadn't seen the Spire. He didn't even know what it was, but Eve squawked for them to be careful. He flinched again and looked back.

"Okay," he agreed softly. It'd be good to be out of the gaze of the dog; it made him uncomfortable, unwelcome. He wanted to be away from his scrutiny.

Once they were a bit farther along, he peered sidelong at White, hopping to catch up. "What's the... 'spire?'" he asked softly, still in awe of his new sister's bright, glowing purity. She was like one of the light-orbs that hung along the tunnel walls, he thought--bright, strong and beckoning. Surely they could never fail. But he'd have to protect her, anyway... though, how could he? He was small, weak. And, he was reminded as he tumbled facefirst into the stone again--he couldn't even walk straight.

He stood and shook himself, and lurched along, taking to half-hopping on his hind legs more like a rabbit or bird than a puppy. He wasn't sure where they were going, but with his sister, wreathed in light and unafraid, surely they could come to no harm.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

The creature noticed that her brother was struggling to walk and even fell over onto his face like a big nerd. White blinked and turned around, squinting down at Oliver. "Are you, uh... okay?" she asked as she tried to help him up.

"The spire is a big rock that glows and stuff. People fought over it. It's sort of sad," she said as she turned and continued on. "It's pretty, though."

The crowdog continued right up until the base of the spire, making sure Oliver didn't fall over again. She sat down on her haunches, watching it for a few moments. "It's my favourite place here," she said quietly. "Do you like it?"

Black tilted his head, pondering.

Had he called the young one a weapon...? He supposed it was.

"A thing has a purpose, or it does not. Perhaps it will find one. I am purpose. Perhaps White shall find hers. I believe she has purpose. This... 'Oliver.' I do not know."

He shifted in place, glancing about with perked ears, then looked back to Eve. The youngsters were wandering off toward the Spire.

"Has anything strange happened, since his hatching? Have you been... stalked? Watched? Pursued?"

He watched her closely, wondering. What if there were other forces at work, watching, just as he was? Waiting to see if Oliver had purpose, or not? Was Nemean spying on them, even now...?

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Oliver looked at White, then peered up at the crystal spire. His eyes widened, and he took a few steps closer unconsciously.

"It's a giant... shiny," he said in a voice soft with awe. And it was: it was huge, smooth, glowing. All at once his desire to collect such things fell away; how could he collect, when the world was filled with them, so huge? Why, he couldn't even pick this one up!

He slipped a sidelong glance at White, almost guilty to ask, to impose.

"Can we get closer...?" They were right near the base, already, but he wanted to touch it. To sniff it, to see how it felt under his talons and paws.

Then he looked back up toward the spire, mulling over her other words with wide eyes. Slowly, his curiosity was beating out his shyness for control, and his awkward silence began to give way to questions. "Why did people fight over it?" he asked, and "Why is it your favorite place?"

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

"A shiny?" White looked at Oliver for a moment, questioningly. "What's a shiny?"

She blinked a little and nodded, getting up again. "Sure," as the idle reply that escaped her throat as she hobbled forwards towards the Spire, right up to the rocks, and sat down. She hadn't been this close to the Spire before - simply because she couldn't see a reason to. She watched Oliver.

"I dunno. It might be important, I guess. Dad said people died but I don't know what that means," she tilted her head. "But it's pretty. It's kind of peaceful, too. That's why I like it."

She continued to watch Oliver. She found it rather hard to believe they were related - she was white and he was black, after all. But she supposed it was the same case with her father. She crinkled her pink nose. "Where d'you come from?"

Black eyed Eve idly, then more intently as she flew off. He watched her nearly frenzied flight (or so it seemed to him), then tilted his head as she returned.

"Nothing has happened. But the thing-that-fled returns at times, and it buzzes. The Dog does not pursue, as Aquarian has ordered him. It is not the thing-that-smells." He stated this very matter-of-factly, then continued.

"The Black Dog was born of the void, and has seen the darkness. He has seen the shapes gibbering and singing, chanting at the Throne, carving the cave walls, though they do not remain. Not to be seen," he amended. "He is purpose. To pursue the thing-that-fled and that would kill us, if it can. Ask Aquarian. I do not know all; perhaps he does. White, perhaps, is linked. Oliver? I do not know."

This was quite a speech for him--yet, tellingly, he looked wholly unconcerned. Perhaps he was confident that he would succeed--or perhaps he simply saw no point in worrying about it. Either way, he was as stoic and aloof as if discussing his favorite food, or the birdsong in the corridors.

If White and Oliver were weapons, at least, it seemed he didn't mean that in a bad way.

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