ORIGIN - when, faces burning, we tore

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A sudden realization.
A thump against the stone.
Hot, hot, hot, HOT!! A small shape struggled in darkness against boiling fluid, it seemed, too hot, burning, skin-searing and fur-stripping and flesh-cooking, not right not right not right

THUD

she fought. Against the crystal, she fought, eyes closed, against the tide of what had sustained her for so long, she fought, drowning, she thought.

THUD

She'd try again. Again, again, again, again thud thud thud
CRACK

She froze. Some strange sound split down the stone and the ocean started leaking out. But what came in was - thick. Hard to breathe. No better. She fought again. One more kick, one more kick was all it would take to -

THUD

CRACK! crackcrackcrackcrack everything cracked and leaked and split open and poured out and from one boiling ocean to, no, this was a real ocean, it had to be, but everything was black and sometimes red but nothing she could see, no, eyes shut, they could not open yet, not for some time, she splashed in the hot hot hot water and tried to find something to hold on to but the shell-home sunk and she was left splashing about in hot water with nowhere to go that she could see. She squeaked, desperate, help.

The young dragon was circling over the dark waters of Fornax, watching for the telltale shimmer of surface-drifting fish. The silver things often slipped to the air to snag down the insects that would flutter over the surface--making them, in turn, easy prey.

There was a splashing from somewhere ahead--and it was frantic, ongoing. He turned, banking, ember eyes peering down. He expected to see a few fish, perhaps, in a feeding frenzy over an insect cloud. Instead there was a wet, brown, hairy thing in the water, thrashing and flailing.

He hesitated for a moment--the rats could be savage, but normally they could swim just fine. Was this one wounded..? Easier prey, perhaps?

Dread made a rapid decision, then swept down like a bird of prey in an attempt to snag the hyena pup in his hind talons. He himself was not, however, all that large--certainly not heavy--and he found himself floundering, too, at the water's surface, half-dragged down. He squawked, leathery wings frantically beating and barely keeping him aloft. With a loud, shrieking squeak he banked and tried to drag the thing back to shore--to the loose rocks at the water's edge.

Once he got it there, he could decide if it was too tough to tackle--but for now his talons were tangled in wet fur, and he just wanted out, before the weight dragged him down and he drowned with it.

@Moth

The water dragged on her limbs and poured down her throat and clung heavy on her fur. She struggled on, but her newborn limbs were hatched weak, muscles never made for something like this so soon after birth. She knew not where to look for shore, only where there was light and where there was not, and even in her panic she felt the darkness cover the world in one moment and - grab her.

Some loud and shrill noise pierced the air, then another; the pup flailed in the sharp grasp of whatever had lifted her up, was dragging her, water air water air - she gasped, coughed up water as her body was jostled along the terrifying sea. Water held her close and cold, things large and sharp scraped against her slick form as she was dragged out. The shore was not so welcoming - grit rubbed her skin gone raw after the rocks had their way - but the water was gone, it seemed.

@Dread

The little dragon hit shore--quite literally; as his prey caught on the rocks he plummeted face down into the loose stones. After a moment of frantic flapping and flailing, he managed to disentangle his talons, and--partly balancing directly on his face--managed to drag himself quite quickly a few paces away.

There he turned, staring and squeaking and panting at the --that wasn't a rat.

"NOT RAT!" he squalled in an accusing tone. Whatever this thing was, it was bigger than a rat, heavier, and it looked--young? Like it had yet to grow.

Dread flipped out his wings and flapped them, drawing himself up to his full height quite irritably. He wasn't even sure this thing was food. Careful, cautious, he began to stalk around it--sniffing at it--from a safe distance.

"TALK?!" he demanded of it, nostrils flaring and ember eyes narrowing in suspicion. His own grasp of language was primitive, at best, but he wondered if this were another thing-that-spoke, rather than a thing-to-eat.

Though, perhaps the categories could overlap? He wasn't quite sure, yet.

@Moth

There was a clattering and scraping and another one of those loud screeches but it almost - it almost sounded like something she could understand but whatever it was supposed to mean she could not tell. There was more scraping - her ears told her the thing was moving around, circling, but her eyes were shut and she could not see. It screeched again, filling her head with another awful sound that was something she vaguely understood, but feared nonetheless. The pup bristled and curled up, instinctively attempting to defend herself as best she could.

Her skin and fur grew warm, warmer, hot! She didn't like it, no, it was like being in the place before but not so wet, only she was wet, getting drier. The pup's fur steamed as the water evaporated rapidly, soon producing a rancid smoke that made her cough, the last of the water coming up with the gagging. Her body rattled with the wheezes but she hoped it would keep whatever thing was out there - back.

@Dread

For a moment, his curiosity--a faint sense of pity, even--was stirred, as the thing curled up away from him. Then it, very suddenly, was on fire. Or, well--smoking. And he hadn't even touched it yet!? Normally he burned his prey, sure, but--he hadn't even DONE anything!

With a confused squeak he backed up a hasty few steps, staring at it. For a moment he felt that feeling, like another of those accursed fruits would simply spawn, but it stopped after a moment.

Dread sat back, tail slowly lashing over the loose stones. He remembered to glance around him, briefly--to ensure nothing else was sneaking up on them. Then he huffed, and hissed, and looked back to Moth.

HE HADN'T EVEN SET IT ON FIRE YET. WHY WAS IT STILL BURNING?!

He waited for it to stop, wondering if it'd be burned to a crisp, and edible--maybe something in the water had burned it?--or if ...something else would happen.

@Moth

Moth's skin was uncomfortably hot, the air terribly thick and rank, and she hoped that the smoking would stop soon. She just couldn't stand it anymore! She'd heard a hiss, but that thing had gone quiet, so she supposed it must have left...right? The cub willed the smoking to stop - in reality it was more likely she'd simply run out of fur and a good layer of skin, there wasn't much to burn, anyway - and rolled over. Slowly, cautiously, as if that would make a difference, she opened her eyes. The newborn squealed and leapt to her feet, wobbling and falling over immediately. In desperation she scrambled, clumsily, running in place for a good part of it as her too-short legs struggled to carry her. She made it about a foot and fell on her face, yelping.

Moth lay there a moment, as equally stunned as frustrated, before pushing herself up and scooting around to face the strange creature. Fiend! There is no escaping you. She stared at him, then, again trying out legs which had already failed her repeatedly, she marched over to the beast, stopping a foot or so away, chest puffed out. Her scent was still rancid and her fur had yet to cool, and her body ached where she had fallen. Still, she intended to confront this thing that would not let her escape. A tricky creature, you are.

@Dread

He was still unsure if it was a thing that could talk. It wasn't that he'd have moral reservations about eating a small, tasty thing that could also speak--it was more that it was more valuable to him alive, if it could. Company was scarce; knowledge scarcer.

Maybe he could talk to it, then eat it.

Abruptly the thing was moving--then falling, scrambling about, falling again--then turning to pace toward him. Alarmed, Dread stepped quickly backward before she could get too close, and leapt directly upward, his broad wings catching air and beating furiously to lift him from the loose stones and into the air. Water still dripped from his talons, his razor-tipped tail lashing beneath him as he rose somewhat higher.

The spines along his neck, throat and back all stood on end, the membranes between them erected and stretched, so that he looked a bit bigger--like a hyena with its hackles raised, really. He screeched loudly, threateningly, and as if in warning, his magicka welled up to heat the air around him. It was weak, but there--a blooming warmth around him that promised further heat if pushed.

"TALK?!" he demanded, more loudly this time, his voice the same screech-roar of a baby dragon. "NOT-RAT!? AM HOT," he warned, with a long, drawn-out hiss--just in case the newborn got any ideas about attacking him.

@Moth

The thing launched into the air, producing a fierce wind that was just enough to make the newborn lose her balance and plop down. Moth scrambled desperately to her feet, briefly disoriented, but when she looked up - had it gotten bigger? It had! What magic! Its wings stretched it sideways and its spikes up and around. The air grew stiflingly hot, its humidity reminded her of the water. The creature screamed at her, again with the sounds she almost understood, better this time, but she was distracted and winced against the heat. Bristling, her hackles rose, the remainders of her burnt stench wafting up from the exposed skin.

Talk. A word clicked, just one, so she followed its command. "Talk," she repeated, a yip of unfamiliar speech. "Talk!" she said again. I can talk, she thought, but when she went to say it came out far too garbled to understand. Her thinking was more advanced than her speech, for certain. She eyed the creature warily, still puffed up and stinking, and said, "You talk." She wanted to know - something, but it just wouldn't come out right...Maybe it could come to the conclusion on its own.

@Dread

The little dragon listened, eyeing Moth very suspiciously. When it barked out Talk! a lot instead of further attacking him, he slowly, warily set back down, landing in the loose pebbles and staring.

"TALK," he agreed loudly, then hissed--a long, loud sound, though high-pitched. For a long moment he then stared blankly at Moth. She had his interest, yes, but his vocabulary was... limited, to say the least, and now he had no idea how to proceed.

"Talk?!" he repeated, demandingly.

He did not seem hostile--only loud, but he was definitely loud.

@Moth

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