ORIGIN

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The constant hum of Cetus cave's swampy lakeside had served as a sort of lulling song to the life inside a topaz shell, nestled under moss and algae, at the edge of the water. Recently, the hum had been muffled further- as water had risen around the would-be 'egg' of gemstone. Not all the way, but enough for quite some time that the bird inside was forced to stay in, just a little longer, as he continued to grow.

Finally, discomfort and stiff limbs coaxed the creature out of it's crystal womb. The first sign of life would be the soft 'tck tck' of his gem-lined beak against the glossy shell. He tapped and tapped instinctively, until finally, a sort of frustration bubbled up and the bird simply pushed outwards with his whole body. The glass, weakened over time, broke easily and the bird all but flung himself free of the shards. He tumbled into the wet growth of plantlife surrounding him, muddy and wet against his pinfeathers. The new bird squawked his complaint, but the mist of Cetus muffled the noise.

For a moment, it was all he could do, keeping his head up while resting a quivering, tired body. Wobbly, the dark gray, wet bird turned his gaze around, first one way, then the other, gazing at the world around him. Small lights danced in the distance, illuminating his world only slightly. He could see the water, the land, the trees... Yes, those were the words. He then took in the colors of his world. Gray, mostly, but with hints of blue, green and brown all around. Surely he was the most lovely thing in this place. The bird finally stood, with a stretch of his wings and legs, to his full height.

He looked upon himself now, and noted the few adult feathers that had already begun to grow in. Hints of white and silver, with black around his wings. He noted the pinfeathers on the ends of his wings and tail, and mused how they were silver, like the mist that surrounded him. Yes, silver seemed right. It was a good word. He would have that word as his own. He would call himself Silver.

The slosh, splash, slosh of approach startled the bird from his inner monologue, and his swiveled that long neck around to identify the thing coming his way. Indeed, it was a thing, a sort of monsterous thing, indeed. It was wet, and covered in grassy stuff, but not grass, that gave off an unpleasant smell even from this distance. Nothing was worse than a wet monkey, though Silver didn't know that this creature was even a living thing, none-less a monkey of any sort.

Then, it called out, strange sounds that Silver noted must've been the words he'd heard in his head before. Words, yes, those were words. What did they mean though? What. He knew that word. Was it asking what he was? Well that was certainly a silly question! He was obviously a Silver! Oh, but that was a name, wasn't it? Not a species. What was a species? The bird cocked its head to the side, confused. Then, the creature appeared through the mist and he could see it better. Oh, that wasn't plants all over its body, it was some sort of weird feathers! Oh so this thing was a thing like him! Sort of. It had no wings. Instead, its wings were deformed, all long and draped. It had a strange, bald face with a big, green gem in the center. He blinked. Could a creature see properly past that eye-sore? It wasn't as lovely as his beautiful topaz helm. Oh, Helm! Another good word! He'd have that for himself, too! Silver Helm. Yes, it suited him just perfectly.

The bird stood taller, on twiggy legs and flared his damp wings at the baboon, letting out a horrible squawk in alarm and warning. Too close! It had gotten too close! Then, stepping away from the monkey and back to the remains of his shell, the bird made shuffling sounds- as if complaining. He settled into his crystal 'nest' hesitantly, eying the stranger with bright yellow gaze, curious but uninviting. What did this creature want from him? What. Oh, right.

"Silver Helm." He stated simply, bobbing his head in affirmation, as if he needed to be sure the monkey thing understood his meaning. "What?" Sil extended a wing, pointing pinfeathers at the thing, as if asking the same question in return.

Silver watched the thing as it made more mouth noises at him, and when it said its name, the bird rolled his tongue around, trying to mimick the sound.

"Yaaaaaahhh... Yarrrooooh. Yarrooow. Yarrow." Long beak and crest bounced as the bird nodded his satisfaction. Then, when the monkey thing started approaching again, the bird stood up taller in turn. He flared his underdeveloped wingspan again, but didn't stroke them forward this time. "Yarrow!" He shouted, scoldingly, as if trying to get another message across. He didn't like the thing getting so close. The heron liked his space.

If the monkey settled where he stood, the bird would return those wings to his sides proper, and settle into the shell he stood over. It cupped him perfectly and he settled in without ruffling a single feather. Comfortable in his little nest of topaz, the bird took a moment to consider what the thing had said.

"Helm feeds Silver. Keeps Silver safe." He nodded, tapping the tip of that encrusted beak on his glossy nest. "Special?" He tilted his head, as if asking the meaning behind it. What could such a silly sounding word mean? Was it a compliment? "Yarrow special? Silver special? Magic"