ORIGIN - fake palindromes

First came awareness. And then came a terrible feeling of suffocation and smothering confinement. Panic. He shook and writhed, and as if from underwater (not that he had ever experienced being underwater), he heard a muted cracking sound.

With a gasp the infant gembond burst free from his chrysalis, collapsing on the ground atop a glistening, black piece of rock. He panted, his yellow eyes darting back and forth in his head as it lay almost defeatedly across the rock. The tunnel he was in was nicely lit, but the shadows in the nooks and crannies by the walls were dark and foreboding. Even more foreboding was the lack of apparent life around him. He sat up quickly, his heart starting to beat faster, and looked behind him, trying to make something of his situation.

His chrysalis had been tucked up against the wall, somewhat hidden by a stalagmite, accumulating dust and dirt. The child whimpered softly to himself. He had no idea what had happened. All he remembered was… waking up the first time, and being found by the nice fox. The nice fox. He looked around again, hoping to see her. But he didn’t. He shuffled his stumpy legs underneath him and clacked his beak together, making a quiet chattering sound. He felt… bad. There was this bad feeling deep in his body. Sort of like the hungry way he felt, before the fox had given him a worm. A yearning, a need – for his caretaker.

He inhaled deeply and stood up. Maybe… maybe she was around! Timidly, he opened his mouth and began to let out nervous peeps. Maybe she would find him. And he would show her somehow that he was sorry he had wandered.

He was treading quietly through the tunnel, heading from the room of glowing crystals back toward the heady, rich scent of plants. He had spent some time training his spells, diligent and disciplined for one so young, before then heading quietly back for food and rest.

The soft crack of gem stopped him, and the white fawn paused, one grey hoof held dangling in the air. His head cocked to one side, and he listened.

Then came a quiet peeping--a strange sound, unknown to him, but on reflection, it did not seem to be dangerous. Pride placed his hanging hoof delicately back to the ground, and then, with precise and cautious steps, approached the sound. There he found a striped and fuzzy... something astride a tumble of shattered black stone.

Here, Pride paused, aware that even with his own tiny size, a sudden approach might frighten a newly-hatched. Yet-... was it new? It did not look that small. Or perhaps it was merely a large enough creature that its chicks were fairly large? He was unsure, unfamiliar with this--as with most things, given his own young age.

More slowly, he approached, speaking in a quiet, even tone. He was nonthreatening, polite, neither particularly warm nor in any way hostile. Instead, matter-of-factly, and as he assumed ought to be done, he did his best to ask if the striped young peeping thing needed help.

"Are you," he asked as he came closer, "all right? Do you need... help? Are you new?" His words came slowly, each carefully-chosen, as he wasn't yet fully confident in his skills with language. Too, he wanted to make sure he was understood, and he was uncertain that the chick would understand. It looked freshly-hatched, after all.

@Raharjo

The young bird chirped a few more times before a sound made him stop. He held his breath, his heartbeat quickening even more. He leaned forward a little, listening to the sound of something approaching. Although he hadn’t ever fully considered the dynamics of danger, instinct produced an uncharted sort of fear.

A white creature came into view, standing out vibrantly against dull rock. As it approached, fear subsided; the avian gembond was entranced. The other thing was white, so white. It was… beautiful. He stared, welcoming the nearing of the creature. It was a bit bigger than himself, but it glided when it moved. What was it?

He was shaken from his trance when the thing spoke. The bird shut his beak and blinked, inhaling and looking down for a moment as he fumbled to process the questions. He looked up again, his head swaying a little on his long neck, and his mouth falling open again. Although he had recently come upon his second cycle, the bird had stunted development, in terms of the social skills of a usual gembond. ”Uh… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling afraid again in a strange sort of way he’d never experienced – self-consciousness. He latched onto the last question. That final word, that seemed correct. He tried to mimic it, to return it in agreement, in confirmation. His nervousness made it difficult, but with some effort, he replayed the word in the same voice that he had heard it in, "New." He looked up, wide-eyed, at the creature, faintly afraid and hoping for some kind of approval.

Pride blinked gently; the creature was so new he had no idea what to do with it. He was but newly-hatched himself, really--less than a cycle old. His knowledge of the caves was limited, at best, and he knew this; his language even moreso.

Cautious, he attempted the same thing that he had with Aster--the same thing that had been done, by Reseda, to him. He focused, trying to open a link between their minds, to more easily communicate by thought and image. It had helped him associate words with meaning far more quickly--and it had helped to speak, when his knowledge of words failed him.

He felt it bloom between them--faint, tentative, but there. Gently, he spoke, and echoed the meaning of his words into the little one's mind. Everything he said and thought was cautious, carefully-chosen, slowly-spoken, so that Raharjo could understand.

"My name is Pride," he began, and with this came twinned the idea of names, and pride itself. "Do you know yours? Do you know the cave near here--full of green? I think this... tunnel, isn't good for you."

The white fawn took two steps forward, detached but gentle, aiming a brief and reassuring touch of his nose to the strange fuzzy creature's shoulder. A flickering image of Eridanus was framed in his mind for the little one, a question: this was a good place to eat, to survive. Did Raharjo know of it?

Pride knew he could hardly take another hatchling under his own wing, so to speak--but at least he could set him, perhaps, on the right path?

((ooc - you can tag me so I see the reply sooner by @Pride at the end of your post! :) like so--))

@Raharjo

He felt something strange – something gliding into his mind, opening up the way with not an invasion but with an enlightening arrival. Understanding. A wave of neurons awoke in his mind, forming new paths in a delicate dance orchestrated by the other creature. It made the bird feel comfortable. He perked up, more attentive than before.

The other creature instilled in him the knowledge of his identity, and wondered about the bird’s own. He thought for a second, beak falling open again. Name? A word, for himself. He struggled for a moment. He remembered “Birb.” That was what the fox had called him. But it didn’t seem… quite right. It didn’t seem specific. He frowned, and shook his head. He wanted one though. It felt like something he was missing out on. Something cool and fun and special, and he wanted to be special.

A familiar place appeared in his mind a second later, and he jumped with an excited squeak. He knew that place! That was where he had come from. Yes, yes! He peeped excitedly. The white creature nuzzled him gently, and his brain burned with a sudden imprint of warmth and safety. He shivered with joy, and stretched his beak out to try and return a nuzzle to the creature’s silky neck. His excitement was escalating and gripped him so strongly that it shook the shyness from his mouth. ”Home! Worms!” He stretched his tiny wings and shook their ends, shuffling back and forth on his stout legs. Inquiry soared through his mind. Did this other animal know how to get there?

@Pride

Pride peered, blinking, and a faint warmth took him. He pulled his head back only after the creature returned its touch, and then looked around slowly. The link did not strengthen as he gained his bearings, but nor did it weaken, at least, and he felt himself able to continue communicating with the little one.

This time, focused on his surroundings, he spoke purely mind-to-mind, though the words were still there.

Very well. I will try to lead us there. But I do not know how safe it will be, so stay close to me, and try to stay fairly quiet. I am good with magic, but undoubtedly, others are stronger. Each word was sent with meaning, imagery, the entirety of it coming slowly and as clearly as he could make it. The idea of danger, lurking. Of silence, to hide. Of magic. Speaking of...

If you do not have a name--do you have magic? Pride asked, glancing down at Raharjo. He by now knew where he was, and slowly, cautiously, he began to pick his way toward the darkest and dankest of the cave entrances. It smelled of foliage and rot, and fresh leaves and old water, all a miasma of life twisting together in his nostrils. This way, he offered softly.

@Raharjo ; exit Pride

The child’s excitement grew as Pride’s intentions floated through his head, alongside the wonderful visions of his birthplace. The mild warnings that came with Pride’s thoughts did little to dampen the bird’s mood; he had little grasp of the dangers of the world and despite the other animal’s light attempt to enlighten him, he maybe chose to ignore it a little… ”Home,” he crooned joyously, with his immense appreciation radiating across the mental link between he and Pride.

Hopping after his new companion, the young gembound cocked his head again in the way that he seemed so often to do. ”Mmm…” he made a little noise as he thought about what Pride next conveyed to him. His forehead furrowed and he ground his jaws together a bit with the effort of deep thought. Magic? A small squeak of defeat was uttered a moment later. No dice! He didn’t know what Pride had meant. If he could’ve shrugged, he would’ve. But in place of it, a sort of mental shrug was emitted from his thoughts, expressing his lack of understanding and a bit of an apology for the fact. He didn’t doubt though that maybe Pride would teach him as they went, or when they got to their destination. Oh, he couldn’t wait!

Exit Raharjo.