ORIGIN

The plague horse gently nosed through the snow leopard cub's soft fur for a moment, trying to wake her. But when the eagle spoke, he found himself listening, ears pricking toward him.

He left his head, watching, listening, and pondering the young bird's words.

He was not offended. He was not, even, defensive. Instead, he considered. He was, after all, a plaguebringer; the bird was clever. He could be quite right. He spoke softly, thoughtfully, taking a few slow steps toward the young creature, picking his way over the grass once more. His tone was curious, despite the hoarse and hollow rasp of his voice.

"I could. You could be right. I ask you--what would you do, were that the case? If I have come, and sickened this creature, and it is dying. Then--what will you do?"

He did not sound or even look threatening, or at least not deliberately; instead he tilted his head, watching Rook with unblinking eyes, their glow sickly and pale.

Is he a hero type? Or indifferent? Is he death? Is he life? Is he-... unsure, as yet? He is quite young. Perhaps he is nothing. A survivor.

The thoughts held no link to any morals; Khloros would not consider any answer right, or wrong. He simply wanted to know. And he wanted Rook to know; sometimes, being questioned about who one was could bring up some interesting answers, especially for those too young to have been asked them before.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

I'm a collector of rare things...
He didn't like how this was turning out. He wasn't sure what he would have done if the creature had reacted, but for it to not react at all? He fluffed himself up, confused and unsure. Then the beast spoke. neither denying nor confirming the charges against himself. But, what if? What if he had? Rook suddenly felt defensive. What would he have done?

Those eyes made him feel sick, and his thoughts made it worse. He... didn't know if he would have done anything different.

The cat had been an annoyance at first, then she had... but she hadn't done it on purpose. His magic had made her do it. He was responsible for this, at least a little. He hopped back and forth, then sidled his way back to the cat's side. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to, to scare you that much. I... I don't even know your name. I'm sorry.

Maybe one day, I'll collect you...

 :

if i'm dead, why do you guys keep poking me
In her dreams, there was fire. She remembered the first time she felt it, and fought it. Fear. Fear was just as powerful as fire. And the two... they had become entangled in her memory. But what great stroke of Fate was it, that the thing she feared, was the thing she wielded? She shivered. She had burned herself with her own power. It made her fearful of using it. And the other, the one she had faced as a newborn. That one made her fear strangers.

But we can run from fear, or we can face it.

She felt something nudge against her, foul smelling, but gentle. She wanted to respond, but it felt like she was crawling through a thick mud. No matter how she fought, it fought back more, and she remained, motionless. Vaguely, she heard words, disconnected, they made no sense. You did this... Sickened... creature... Dying... What... you do? Why didn't the words make sense? Rustling, something nearby.

I'm sorry... I don't even know your name. The voice was sad. Were they talking about her? She tried to shake her head, but she still felt trapped by mud. But she didn't want to be trapped anymore. She wanted to get up. She wanted to tell them she was okay, maybe just a little scared, well, a lot scared. But she wasn't... dying... She strained, and managed to crack open her golden eyes. "My name is Lyra."

if i'm asleep, why don't you just let me be

The horse simply watched, and listened, shuffling to face the eagle as it landed beside the cub--and as the cub woke, and spoke.

It was interesting, fascinating, even; the eaglet had seem to come to come to some kind of realization upon pondering Khloros's question. The horse wasn't sure what realization, but it had obviously influenced him. He almost seemed troubled--or was Khloros imagining that?

I have never met him, before. Perhaps I am wrong. We shall wait and see.

He remained quiet, tail swishing once; then he simply seemed to meld into the shadows of the jungle, waiting quietly, watching the exchange between the two. He did not interrupt.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

I'm a collector of rare things...
He flapped his wings in shock as the cat finally responded. He hopped back a few steps, sure she was going to rise up and flatten him for causing her such distress, but she only spoke her name. He noticed that she seemed extremely tired, and shivered still, just a little. She had been scared. As scared as he was. And she still was. But she was trying to not be. He, he could do the same thing. Be strong, right?

I'm Rook. Not much else to say, was there. He shuffled uneasily, one sharp clawed foot to the other. What else was there to say? Why didn't he know? I'm... glad you're awake. I thought... I thought that maybe you had been hurt. Either by... by that strange thing, or... ormaybebyme. The last was spoken quickly, guiltily. He didn't know how much she remembered, but he also didn't want to make her remember more than she needed to.

Maybe one day, I'll collect you...

 :

lemme try to stand on my own
Cold, wet, and smelling filthy. She would have laughed if she thought she could. Instead she just lay there, water and mud soaking into her thick fur. Vaguely, she saw the dark creature fading away, but maybe, maybe he had just been a figment of her imagination the whole time? She didn't know, and right now, she didn't care. He was gone, and she only had one thing to focus on. The little golden bird.

He introduced himself as Rook, and she nodded. Names out of the way, good. Now, were they going to try to kill each other, or were they going to try to help each other? She listened as he mumbled to her. So he had been one of the voices she had heard. Well, that meant he had been worried about her, and his words seemed to confirm that. The strange thing. So he had seen it too? But it hadn't hurt him. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing. Maybe it just looked bad. Todd had thought the deer looked bad, but she hadn't been. Maybe that was what was happening here.

In her musing she missed his quick mumble. She shifted, the water growing uncomfortable. She stretched, trying to rise, but her legs were still shaky, and she fell back with a splash. "Well, that didn't work very well, did it?" She tried to laugh, and managed at least a chuckle. "So... Rook? Did you feel that terrible shaking earlier? It was the scariest thing I've ever felt. The ground, supposed to be solid, just shaking and shivering." She looked at him with curiosity, and total innocence. ""Have you ever felt anything like that?"

or maybe i'll just lay here and drown

The stallion turned, picking his way quietly through the undergrowth, and around and down, into the water. The cub seemed stuck, there, and though he did not want to alarm her, nor did he want to leave her shivering and cold.

"You should be on dry land," he rasped softly, setting his hooves carefully for each step through the water. Then he reached down his long, thin neck, and his long, thin head, and offered Lyrastrae a nudge, a boost up to dry land. And if she were terrified of him, and tried to flee, then so much the better; it'd help her grip the banks, at least.

He heard the eagle speak, and dimly, distantly, registered his words.

He feared hurting her. She fears me. Interesting.

"Neither of you need fear. I remember fear... when I was very young. It is natural," he explained.

Then he stood quietly knee-deep in the water, watching the two youngsters. His pale, lamplike eyes did not blink, but he wondered, as he watched them: what were they destined to be? The eagle, the snow leopard--either of them, or both of them, could be something astonishing. Amazing, powerful, bright. The eagle had a fire in him, and the cat a thoughtful mind. A further question prodded at him, and he spoke it.

"Do you yet know what magics you hold? I heard--I felt it, from a distance."

Black nostrils flared, stale are blowing out as he watched them, and considered.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD