ORIGIN

Near the edge of the gaping trench a chrysalis grew, wrapped in the camouflaging grasp of stray fern fronds. Early on it was a simple, small bud of sunstone, and as it grew so did the ferns, wrapping a cocoon around the developing creature. Eventually it was large enough to stand out as something not akin to the plants around it, and if one had peeled away the layer of foliage they would have seen a large, angular stone appearing much like glass. In the center, refracted colors of copper and mahogany shrouded the small form growing within. But no one disturbed the creature, and he was allowed to grow in safety and isolation.

I don't mind so much, he thought. Sabotage wasn't sure when he'd begun talking, but whenever it was he took an immediate affinity to it and showed no signs of slowing. Naturally his confinement rendered physical speech an impracticality, but for now he was content enough to simply think very loudly. It's not as if anyone would be coming for me, anyway. Why should they? And in any case, who's to say 'anyone' even exists? This could be the entire world. I could be the only 'any' out there. Or... in here, I guess, if this is it. From within his chrysalis light filtered through the ferns, transforming into a diffused green. The cub's entire world consisted of muddled shades of emerald, interspersed here and there by the scant red tones defined by his stone. He flexed and twisted as he realized he was beginning to feel strangely confined. And there was a quiet feeling brewing within him, a sort of static that incessantly tingled the base of his skull. He reached up a clawed paw, squeezing it between the crystal and his own frame, to drag his claws through the fur along the back of his neck. But it did little to assuage the feeling. It prickled down his spine, and he felt each hair stand individually to attention.

Electricity. His mind gripped at the word, fumbled with it like the new babe he was, and yet found it perfectly suited to his grasp My electricity. I wonder what it is, what it means. Does it come from within me? Maybe from this crystal. He reached up gingerly to touch the gem before him and as he dragged still-soft pawpads across its surface, more of that prickling energy jumped to life. Sabotage flinched away, but there was a small smile playing on his lips. He pressed his paws to the crystal before him again and pushed. Nothing. He braced his back and lowered his shoulders into the motion.

Crack.

Canyons sprung up all around him, crisscrossing every available surface until his chrysalis was a faberge egg balanced precariously on a knife's edge. He hesitated, knowing in some way that it was his motionless frame that kept his world together. A flinch, and the cub's entire world fell in a thousand pieces around him, glittering down like snow. The ferns, without the support of a stone beneath them, shuddered and curled away. Sabotage found himself sitting upright, blinking into a world somehow more green than the one he'd just destroyed.

The young bear stared into the world around him as his eyes adjusted, taking in each tiny detail of the fern fronds, the flecks of moist dirt that peeked through a thick carpet of moss. The air was thick with moisture and the earthy scent of decay and rebirth as the plants around him made the continuous cycle of death and life. Beneath his paws he could feel the soft springiness of thick, damp moss. And, as if on cue, his ears seemed to open themselves up to the myriad of gentle sounds around him.

A voice filled with query floated to him through the vegetation, and his head turned instinctively towards it. He opened his mouth to answer, to call out that here he was, but a thought stopped him. Am I truly here? Could it be said I was positive of my own existence, of my own location within this place when, really, before I could see no further than a crystal prison and my bars have only been traded for emerald fronds? He blinked into his own internal dialogue, eyes sweeping about at the twists of fern that surrounded him. There is no evidence that I am even alive, or that I'm not still bound within my chrysalis and simply dreaming. And, to that extent, I can't know that the chrysalis exists or ever existed. I could simply be a consciousness floating through the ether, creating the world around me as my subconscious sees fit. And even if I was a bod--

His silent monologue was halted by the appearance of what he could only assume was the owner of the voice from moments ago. Sabotage's gaze flickered up to him and he blinked sharply, the brilliant white of Varne's plumage a stark eyesore in this verdant place. Although it made him squint, he was somehow determined to look.

"Eridanus," he hummed, letting the word fall over his tongue so as to feel it properly. "Eriiii-daaaah-nussss. That's not a word I know. It must be the name of this place. Is it the name of our entire existence or just this patch of --" his mind reached for the word as he studied he foliage around him. "-- plants, they're plants -- around where we are?" He hadn't truly encountered proper nouns in his mental musings, except to wonder if there was a word meant for himself. As if hearing his thoughts -- luckily Sabotage only had a split second to wonder if the bird could, in fact, hear his thoughts -- the swan introduced himself. "Varne," he repeated gingerly. The amount of new words he was learning was almost exciting. "Well, I'm not sure if you know" he pinned the swan with a curious look, suddenly curious if he'd hatched the same way. "But there's not a lot of need for names in there. Just me, myself, and I, really, and I can just call me 'me.' Or, 'myself,' or even 'I,' I suppose but that is all really unnecessary. So, naturally, the idea of a word that I would use to describe myself implicitly didn't really come to mind until fairly recently. And, not being a pressing issue, I didn't think too much on it. There were plenty of ideas that came immediately to mind, but... but." His face twisted sourly as he realized he'd lost his train of thought. He lifted a paw to scratch awkwardly beneath his chin for a moment before the proverbial light bulb flickered back to life. "Ah, right. Sabotage. I'm Sabotage."

The swan settled near him, and Sabotage didn't move to adjust his own posture. He was comfortable enough sitting right where he'd hatched and had no strong desires to go walking around just yet. Varne reached out a wing to run through his fur and he accepted the touch. It was an odd sensation, though not unwelcome. He was, however, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the bird's sheer amount of exuberance. Just where did Varne get all that energy?

"Is there, sir?" he questioned almost innocently. "I wonder if those things to see are worthwhile. I mean there's really no point, is there?" He wasn't necessarily trying to be a downer -- in fact he rather enjoyed the preening he was getting and had no intentions of chasing his new friend off too soon. His little negative tirade, luckily, was interrupted by breathless compliments. Strangely, it brought a smile to his young face. He tilted his muzzle down, moving his left paw just slightly so that he could get a good look at the stone. "It is... rather nice, isn't it, Mr. Varne? Sunstone. It always looks like it has another solid chunk of stone within it, but see," he held up a smaller shard, which had the same refracted quality as it had when it was part of the whole. "There isn't actually another piece inside at all. I think maybe there are tiny flecks inside that are reflected by all the angles and end up making an illusion." He couldn't say why or how he assumed these things, only that the stone was part of him and so he knew more than he ought to about it. And at that he canted his head around to take in full view of the bloodstone nestled at the bird's chest. "Yours contrasts so much with your feathers. What kind is it?" For now, at least, youthful curiosity abated his negative thoughts and he was consumed by the existence of different sorts of stones.

"Ugly? Of course, that's what I meant," he muttered under his breath, frowning. A thin string of guilt hummed at the back of his mind. It hadn't been his intention to hurt Varne's feelings or draw attention to something he was insecure about. Somehow the swan feeling insecure fed right back into Sabotage, and he felt almost ready to curl in on himself mentally. But mention of magic seemed to brush away any sense of blame from his young mind, and he perked up almost immediately. "Magic?" Sabotage felt a prickling buzz around his stone, almost as if it reacted to the word. "Is that anything like my electricity, Miste-- ah Varne? I felt it just before I hatched, something new that felt... tingly, for lack of a better word. And then when I focused on it, and paid attention..." His words trailed as he did exactly that now, raising his left paw to look at it in concentration. Right on cue, tiny arcs of electricity sprung to life, flickering between the claws on his hand before jumping painlessly to his nose.

"That!" he hummed calmly. "That's my electricity. It was a little stronger this time, with a bit more kick. I bet there are other things I can do with it. Even just doing that makes me feel a bit more energized. Do you have it, too? I certainly would like to see what it looks like." There was a certain inkling that electricity wasn't the only "magic" to exist in this outside world, and the cub was curious to learn of more. This had come so naturally to him -- another thing that simply was inside his mind, like the word "sunstone" or his own name -- that surely there were others who could do similar feats.

At Varne's congratulations, his head lilted to one side. Though he certainly appreciated positive encouragement, his magic hadn't required a particular amount of strain or stress on his body. It had simply been a moment of concentration and the electricity sprang forth. He wondered, though, if others experienced more difficulty in utilizing their powers.

"Oh, the wind," he murmured, sounding unenthused but clearly interested all the same. He hesitated for a moment as Varne's feathers flared before offering a simple "Very nice." It was clear the bird was proud of his magic, and though Sabotage couldn't muster the excitement he'd been offered earlier, he hoped his word was good enough. "So min is electricity and yours is the wind? Are there other types? Is there something that decides who gets what sorts of magic? If I wanted to learn to do what you just did, could I, or am I limited only to my own element?" Despite the even tone with which Sabotage spoke, it was clear he was attentive all the same. Magic was a wholly enveloping subject to him, possibly one of the most interesting he would encounter in his life. And surely it would only lead to his reverie of the supernatural.