ORIGIN

Oliver picked his way over Polaris's stone, half-lost in his own thoughts. Some were bemused; he was considering Bremen's strange Bazaar, and the talkative, rambling hybrid's discussion on... talking bananas, and glowing stones, and ancient Kingdoms. Other thoughts were more solemn. He'd been trying to learn more about mending wounds on Gembound, but he had found himself incapable. Every now and again he'd find a rat injured, not dying but unable to recover on its own, fated for death given time. Even when he wasn't hungry, even when his heart stirred with deep pity and grief for the thing, he was unable to do anything to aid. He had to kill them, to grant them mercy, and move on.

But what if it were a talking Gembound?

He had to press his boundaries, and try to learn. He just wasn't sure how to go about it.

This particular thought, troubling and consuming as it was, fluttered from his mind like falling leaves as he realized he was not alone.

Ahead, quiet, there sat another figure--silhouetted against the blue glow of the Spire's vast crystals. Oliver blinked, slowly placing the taloned forelimb that had paused midair down onto the stone.

A cat, it looked like--big, and somehow... sad? It seemed to be a little slouched, or perhaps that was his imagination, and Oliver's sympathy at once stirred. Cautiously hesitant, he lowered his head and started toward it, worried that he might be intruding, unwantedly--but he had to ask.

Gently, softly, he spoke as he slipped up near the stranger, peering up at the other.

"Hey," he said, simply--"Are you all right?"

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

His past self would have never considered that he would be praying for forgiveness. Praying to an inanimate object, of all things. An object that unknowingly provided the lifeblood of the caves. He hadn't quite... spoken out to it, actively voiced his desires. His mind was racing and he felt too light-headed to actually put things in words. Maybe there wasn't even anything going on in his head. Nassir didn't know, couldn't possibly know. He wasn't even sure of how long he had been sitting here, staring blankly at the listlessly glowing blue facets of the Spire. The only sign of his lost time was the vague soreness in his paws.

That, and the look of concern on a stranger's face as they ripped him from his less than wistful reverie.

Foggy eyes shifted lazily over to the hybrid first, before his head fully turned (painfully) to face them. "Oh---" he croaked on instinct, voice hoarse. Automatically, he cleared his throat and tried to put on a smile that didn't really reach the rest of his face. "Yeah---I'm fine. I'm fine." For some reason, his heart was racing and he shifted his weight, setting his jaw. His tail unfurled from about his paws, lest he step on it if he stood up to escape. "I'm just thinking, y'know? That's common. Right?" Great, here he was divulging the fact that he definitely was out of touch with reality. What a way to question societal norms. It's just been so long.

@Oliver

"I'm just thinking, y'know?"

Oliver smiled, tufted ears flicking back and head dipping, his blue eyes squinting up kindly at the black leopard. He paced forward a bit, coming up alongside but keeping a good, respectful distance. He hesitated, glancing at the cat, and when it didn't immediately object, he sat down. Always honest, always kind, he genuinely considered the question for a moment, eyes travelling thoughtfully back to the Spire and trailing over it.

"I... Think so?" he offered softly. "I think a lot. I guess I get lost in my own head sometimes. I--think everybody does. Can I ask what you're thinking about or is it--like... personal?" he added, glancing again to the cat. He gave it a moment, tucking feathered forelimbs against his furred ribs.

Oliver might have moved on had Nassir been hostile, or brusque--if it were clear he didn't want company. But something about him resonated with Oliver, spoke of melancholy hidden away--a feeling Oliver himself did not feel, but was often drawn to in a sympathetic way. It might have been the cat's hoarse voice, or his sad, mismatched smile, or perhaps his shifting weight or somehow unsettled-looking pose, the way he pulled his tail from his paws.

But he didn't seem... happy, or content, and Oliver, in his kind and peaceful way, lingered close--but not too close--hoping that he could help.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

As the unwelcomed (but surprisingly appreciated) company drew near, Nassir found himself shuffling just a few inches away. He might've considered it rude, but he just wanted to have that little bit of control over the situation and keep a distance. They could still talk from here. Even a few inches further away. He really hoped this stranger didn't think he was being too rude---"yeah, but do you ever just... not think? Nothing's going on? I---" he flitted in and out of autopilot, stumbling over his words slightly, "I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Don't remember how I got here." That statement alone made him stop to consider. Where was here? The core, right? From where?

"This might be strange, really strange---am I awake?" His mind just felt so, so foggy. Like it wasn't really there. Gone, but not forever. It was just slipping a little, clawing at sticks in the mud to stay attached. "Sorry, just---I'm a little---a lot, actually---lost. I've been lost for so long." He was out of breath, unused to talking, words spilling uselessly from his lips and slurring incessantly. The leopard paused, trying desperately to gather himself. Nassir felt air whistle through his teeth, and he forced his jaw to relax a little so he could at least take in some more air. Just because he just couldn't stop chattering, he continued. A stray paw, eager to be relieved of pressure, traveled up to his right shoulder. "It hurt. So much. But I'm back but I don't feel like I'm back."

@Oliver

Oliver turned his full attention to Nassir when the other professed being completely lost. He wasn't sure what this meant, but it was--worrying, and his first instinct was to check Nassir for illness. His magicka flickered up, but then faltered, and Oliver for a long moment felt as if he were swaying, as if the world were falling away, filling with a strange and overwhelming, buzzing white. He staggered a bit, then shook his head sharply a few times to clear it. "Sorry, I-... Magick here is stupid," he offered sheepishly.

Oliver then peered at Nassir, blinking pale blue eyes for a long moment, before gently speaking further.

"Maybe it's normal. I don't know. Everyone seems different. What--hurt? Unless you... don't want to talk about it," he added softly.

After the briefest of pauses, he decided to actually offer a bit more conversation, explanation, in case the cat didn't want to discuss anything. Oliver showed--and felt--no indignation at the leopard's shifting away; he did not at all mind if the other felt nervous or uncomfortable, aside from feeling slightly bad about being its cause. "I'm Oliver. Sometimes-... talking about stuff helps, but you don't have to. It might--help you remember but... sometimes people don't want to remember. That's okay, if you don't." Gentle. Easygoing. There was no pressure in his words--it was an offer, nothing more. Can I--ask your name, though?" he added, softly.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver listened, concern crossing his features, his brow deeply furrowing. When Nassir choked up the bile, he pressed closer, eyes widening with worry. "Are you okay?!" He wasn't sure what was happening, only that everything seemed--wrong, sick.

His intention had been to offer this stranger a glowing stone--something to light his path, a bit of hope to carry with him. But by the sounds of things, he feared light. Light, to him, was a terrible thing--and what, exactly, was a fae?

"I don't--know what a fae is," he began slowly, thinking. "But I do believe you. I've heard of fairies and they lead you to your deaths, I think? Dad told me about Nemean. That's--the name of one. She makes pretty lights and calls for help and leads people to die. She's bad. A betrayer." Black had very diligently warned both Oliver and White of this, and his son had taken the lesson to heart.

But being... ripped open? Poisoned shoved down his throat? That all sounded--bad. Strange, wrong. Frowning, Oliver crept closer to the bile. "Is that--their poison..?" he asked, worriedly. He tried again to call upon his magicka, to offer some measure of strengthening to Nassir, and to hopefully cleanse whatever was wrong with him--but he wasn't sure if it was an illness at all.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver flinched back as Nassir scrambled away, but he himself took a respectful, and hasty, few shuffling steps back himself. He didn't want to invade the big cat's space; it wasn't about fear of those hooked claws now glinting in Polaris's light, but rather respect for the creature's obvious distress.

He waited a good long moment, waited for Nassir to rant, and pant, and panic. He then spoke, himself hesitant--almost fearful, the tremor of worry in his voice. But he had an instinctive knowledge that he'd need to remain calm, for the cat's sake. "It's--fine, I asked?" he reassured Nassir, first off. "I'm sorry you're going through all that. You can talk though. I hope it helps. And I think Nemean had wings yeah. They said she was little, and buzzy. She--did this?"

He hesitated further, then--after a pause, rather than dumping all his questions on the poor, stressed cat at once--continued. "Listen, why do you think you're gonna lose your eyes? We can help. I can help. What poison is it? All poisons have, like-... an antidote, yeah?"

The dog-bird tried to sound reassuring, despite the shaking fear in his heart. Poor Nassir. The cat's suffering touched him, and he suffered for it too. He found himself desperate to help, hoping beyond hope that he could find some way to ease his pain. He turned, concentrating at least on the present: on hopefully gathering some water to him, allowing it to slide into a hollow in the stone. At least he could offer the cat that, a little bit of water after he'd been sick?

The result wasn't a lot of water, but he glanced to Nassir and then stepped away from the puddle, offering it. He felt a little dizzy, but that was okay. "You should--drink a little. If you can."

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}