ORIGIN

There was no way she could tell that Odyssey had actually succeeded beyond surveying them for their response. They were quiet and she listened for any signs of a struggle - for the clipped breathing or the short gasps of an overwhelming sickness. Times like this, the ability to see would come in handy, and she could read their expression; but she was left floundering, only hoping that Odyssey performed the task she asked of them. She waited for a moment and received no indication of a failure or success, so she would continue. Odyssey's ability would hinge greatly on whether or not they had succeeded in the first place.

"Try to manipulate it." She instructed evenly and prepared to steal herself. She knew of all the ways this could go horribly wrong, and it wasn't that she doubted Odyssey's ability - more so it was confidence in herself, and a test. If she could withstand it, then it meant she was getting stronger. And she would.

The child almost held their breath, not wanting anything to whisk away their grasp on the borzoi's bacterial cultures. Their hold felt precarious and fragile at best, as if Magdalena could sever the connection at any moment. They had allowed time to slip away, barely noticing the minutes of concentration that had held them in stiff quiet. By the time Mother had spoken again, Odyssey was familiarizing themselves with the subtle roiling sensation of her internal flora and opened their eyes again. But her command... This was unlike anything she had ever asked them to do before. She had always said not to use their magic on her when it could be helped, and Odyssey obeyed. Why now was it part of their lessons?

"Okay. Just..." Their voice trickled free, unsure of how to approach the command. Just say to stop if Odyssey messed up? Just don't be surprised if anything weird happens? Just, I'm sorry if I mess up your whole body? Odyssey flickered their gaze back to Magdalena, but she was staring cold and empty at him, expectant. "Okay." They conceded and quietly focused.

But their grasp on Magdalena's cultures wavered. Doubt and fear quickly seeded inside their mind, worrying that they might do something wrong. What if they accidentally killed off all of her internal flora? What if they activated it and made her ill? Worry was quickly threading its way through Odyssey's mind and they furrowed their brow, lips tugging, until it became too much. They had to release their grip, losing track of their Mother's microscopic colonies. "I-I'm sorry," Odyssey quivered, pinning flat their ears.

Magdalena waited patiently, straw eyes fixed on where she expected the form of her child to be. She searched herself for the feeling of her flora's manipulation. It was... a tug, here and there, a small pull in the direction of her child, and she anticipated a sudden lurch. Or perhaps a feeling of wellness. In truth, she didn't know what to expect, though she didn't think Odyssey would readily endanger her. The child was too weak to attempt such a hostile approach. Not that Magdalena would look poorly upon such an attempt; in fact, Magdalena might have respected Odyssey that much more if they had tried to make her sick.

But suddenly the feeling was lost. Magdalena felt her cultures returning wholly to her, and Odyssey apologized seconds later. Anger flared inside her chest and a gruesome snarl ripped across her face - so unlike Magdalena was it to lose her temper, but her patience was wearing thin. "Again!" She hissed sharply, gritting her teeth as she struggled to stifle the fury in her heart. She would not tolerate failure. She would not tolerate her child's weakness!

Odyssey pinned their ears back, flinched even, at their Mother's sharp command. "Y-yes." They abided, nodding slightly. They hadn't even realized that they had looked away from Magdalena, an instinctive act of submission. Slowly, peridot eyes returned to her frail form and once more reached for her cultures, vying desperately to take hold of them again. They had achieved it once. They knew where they were, right before them, simmering in that familiar soup that they knew so well. All they had to do was take it and wrench them in such a way...

They felt the culture, entangled in their grasp. Now that they had a hold of it, Odyssey closed their eyes and slowly breathed. Sealing their lips, they allowed quiet respiration to pass through their nostrils, listening to the sound of each inhale and exhale, feeling the bacteria swell before them. They pushed all of their magic into it with no goal in particular. They just wanted to change it, to pry some kind of reaction from it. Their will was such that the bacteria would propagate, inciting sudden activity within her realm, and maybe they would flourish and she would feel healthier, more complete. Or maybe the intrusion to their usual activity would spark an immune response, and they would inadvertently cause their mother to sicken - the fear of this happening caused Odyssey to open their eyes again, severing the connection.

Much to her pleasure, and her slowly dwindling anger, she could feel Odyssey once more take hold of her cultures. The change was slow, but it was sure: even she could feel them shifting, utilizing her own magic to subtly feel around for the adjustments in her bacterial culture. Odyssey was causing them to multiply and rapidly feed, and she could feel her body taking this change in stride. A swell of good fauna blossoming in her gut. A feeling of wellness, invigoration, as if she was suddenly growing healthier. But making somebody feel healthier wasn't going to get Odyssey very far in her schemes. Odyssey needed to learn how to cripple, how to pick apart and to destroy their opponents. She needed a child whose strength and magical aptitude she could preen herself on.

Magdalena's eyelids slowly lowered again, a nonchalant, even unimpressed look remaining painted on her maw. "Try again." She instructed patiently. "Make me ill." Would Odyssey comply? Or were they too weak to even consider harming her?

She wanted them to do it again? And what was worse, she wanted Odyssey to make her sick. No... No, that was practically the opposite of what Odyssey wanted to do. A look of mild fear crossed into their gaze, and again they found themselves thankful that Magdalena couldn't see, lest she come to know the abhorrence Odyssey felt at the thought. They couldn't fathom hurting somebody that they loved. They adored Mother, despite her hardened approach to raising Odyssey, and they loved Iliad with all their heart, and they were quite fond of Louie, and they just - they couldn't imagine themselves hurting them. It felt wrong. Why would you want to cause pain to somebody that you loved?

Odyssey sealed their lips and slowly lowered their head, nodding, then remembered that Mother couldn't see the gesture. "Okay." They spoke quietly. Quieter than usual - which was hardly quiet at all. Closing their eyes, they once again reached out to Magdalena's bacteria. What they thought had been the original magic they used - the one that made their mother's bacteria flourish, made it healthy - had escaped them. Instead, it was a malevolent feel of magic, one that wrenched the bacteria and seemed to twist it, darken it, poison it. Even they could feel the effects of it, it seemed to burn in their chest and stomach as they manipulated Magdalena's cultures.

The feeling quickly became too much for Odyssey, and again they released it, peeling open their eyes with fear and shame for themselves, surveying their mother for a response. Hopefully whatever Odyssey had done wasn't too bad.

Odyssey had hesitated again, but it wasn't a result of their own incompetence, this Magdalena knew. They were hesitating out of fear for harming her. For as patient as Magdalena tried to be, the agitation, and the impatience was beginning to set in. She wanted Odyssey to be strong. She wanted them to be able to hurt! And the first step to doing that was to be able to hurt the ones you loved - this she knew all too well. It was what she was raised on. It was the only way she had survived, and she hated herself for it, if only to come to accept that fact as what it was. It made her stronger. It gave her the willpower to hurt who she needed to hurt in order to succeed, and she expected to teach Odyssey the same way. There was no mercy in her lessons, just as there had been no mercy in her own learning.

Finally, she began to feel the effects of their magic. Again their culture was gripped, but this time it was wrenched and soiled, and suddenly she felt like her innards were wilting. It was a common feeling she had experienced, especially in her youth, when she was without the health of another to leech. Suddenly she felt it in her stomach and in her head, as if a fog had settled in behind her eyes, a stabbing one. Like it contained thousands of tiny glass needles, unseen, beneath the skin. Her lungs had began to tighten too, and suddenly Magdalena found herself short of breath, her throat closing in - she coughed, and coughed again, hoarse barking crawling at the back of her tongue. She ducked her head and her shoulders quaked as she hacked away, pulling up the phlegm that suddenly congealed in her lungs.

The pain was getting worse; if she hadn't already been blind, Magdalena might have feared that she'd lose her sight, her head clouding over and feeling light. Pinning back her ears, she grimaced against the dryness in her throat, like something was lodged in there. A wheeze, begging for air. Her previously reclined haunches began to unfold against her will, slowly coming to a stand as she hunched over herself. This was getting too bad - her cultures were reacting violently to this intrusion. She had to make it stop.

Reaching desperately for her magic, Magdalena willed her cultures to repair themselves, but the coughing and the light-headedness was stealing her attention. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to focus.

Oh, no. She was coughing. Odyssey's brows twitched. A look of worry, mixed with fear - the same one as before, but more focused, acutely aware of just how bad what Odyssey just did was. They had made her sick. And now she was suffering, coughing away. And she wasn't stopping, either. The look was growing more and more fearful; apprehension threading its way through their visage, watching now as Mother began to stand and curl into herself, hunching over her paws as if she was going to wretch. They had never need Mother wretch before, not like how Odyssey did. In fact, they'd never seen Magdalena show any sign of weakness until now. A coughing fit like this was completely unheard of, yet here she was, practically dying. And it was his fault.

"M-Mother?" Odyssey probed, taking a step forward, slowly extending their nose towards her. She didn't seem to be responding. Her eyes were glued shut, and she seemed to be struggling against the coughing, but that was all they could tell. "Are you okay? I'm sorry," Panic rose the child's voice a couple octaves, speaking quicker, as if on the verge of tears. In truth, they really could feel their throat swelling and heat coming to their face, fearful that they had caused too much damage to her.

Reaching out, Odyssey attempted to mend the damage they had done. They could feel her bacterial cultures again, though it felt like they were now struggling, as if each time they gripped it, it fell away from them. Untouchable and elusive. But they tried to repair her all the same.

Her head was so clouded. She was suddenly lost in herself, as if thrown into a sea of ice and fog where she was stripped of all her senses. Her nose was suddenly burning, the skin having instantly turned itself dry, and her lungs were closing, and her eyes were beginning to water despite having sealed themselves closed. Even her hearing felt numbed by the ringing in her ears, the stabbing pain in her head, and suddenly Odyssey was speaking to her but she wanted to tell him to shut up. Even when they attempted to reach for her cultures, she wanted to slap him away, but was powerless. Ever so slightly, she could feel the affects, but the damage had already been done. Her bacteria had been wilted. Her insides spoiled, no matter how hard Odyssey tried to repair them.

Still, it was enough to make her lungs open back up, and she gasped in a noisy breath of air. She found relief for a moment, but her throat was still tight, and it only served to make her cough more. Her shoulders quaked with the feel of death rattling her chest. Once again, she vied to fix herself; at least with the slight reparation Odyssey's magic had made, she might have a small window of opportunity to do so.

...Nevermind. That just made it worse.

With her bacterial cultures practically doing somersaults in her stomach, Magdalena's eyes peeled open, bulged even, and she reached forward, spitting up the contents of her gut.

She didn't respond to him. Rather, she opened her eyes and leaned forward; Odyssey knew that look. They had experienced it. They suddenly reeled backwards, just in time to avoid being drenched in a mouthful of Mother's vomit. The sight cast a shudder down their spine and made their blood run cold. Guilt of having done this plagued the child, who whimpered as Magdalena stood before them and wretched everything in their stomach, producing a pool of stinky, probably poisonous bile. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Odyssey pleaded, once again reaching forward with their magic.

Their will to see Magdalena improve came in the form of a powerful wave of magic, imploring her health to return to her. Odyssey didn't know what they'd do with themselves if Magdalena succumbed to this sudden illness, one that she had bid them to cast in the first place.