ORIGIN

There was no consciousness before a loud crack awoke Fallah. Large, blue eyes snapped open. The cave stood distorted, cast in a blue light. There was no explicit thought or feeling. It was simply the awareness of oneself.

Another crack and the walls around the Lynx tumbled away. She lay there for a while with no concept of time. She was unaware that twenty seven cycles had passed since she last set foot on the cave ground.

What had happened? Slowly, Fallah's confusion started to grow as her memories resurfaced. There was Fisher and Black... Golems... other gembounds. Fallah remembered that while she didn't relish in the feeling of battle, her heart swelled with the feeling of love as she fought beside her two companions.

Had she been defeated? What happened to Black and Fisher? Fallah searched her memories for answers, but in her final moments, she had simply launched herself into battle with the feeling of love driving her.

That was all she could remember. Could her companions have been... shattered? Tears pricked at Fallah's eyes, although she didn't understand it fully. She forced herself to stand and look around. She wasn't even sure if the cave looked the same as when she had last visited so many cycles ago. Regardless, Fallah looked around for any signs of when she had been here last.

"Speech"

Black had not been idle, but the caves were dangerous of late. He had spent half his time lurking, slinking, keeping to the shadows and avoiding using his magic to do so, trying not to attract unwanted attention from the golems. He had no desire to be crushed by giant rocks.

The crack had drawn his attention, however--and at once he worried that a newly-hatched might be birthed even now. One of the first things they often did was to test out their magic, and in Polaris, right now, that could be catastrophic.

At a dead run he raced over the rock, under a ledge, until he'd found what he thought was the stone--... A familiar stone... He'd seen a chrysalis like this before.

Pale blue eyes blinked, and a quick, wrinkled-faced glance around found the tawny feline standing not far off--was she all right? She seemed-... unsteady? Or lost, almost. Black tilted his head, trotting quickly over with a wag of his tail and a loud snuffle in greeting.

"Fallah! It is you! Are you well?" His voice was pleased, actual emotion shining through, but almost at once he was glancing at the chrysalis--thinking.

"Have you slept? It is not safe, not now--there are golems, and magic is dangerous."

With this solemn warning he looked around, as if expecting one to descend upon them at any moment. Given Fallah's past, it somehow wouldn't surprise him--but maybe they'd be lucky.

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Black tilted his head.

"Do? I do not know. If someone is under attack, I will aid, but I am avoiding them otherwise. You were injured..?" He remembered her being in stone once before, after--... had it been Baratheon who had done it? He could barely remember, now, but he remembered guarding her stone loyally in Cetus, sequestered beneath the heavy roots of a strong tree.

He remembered, too, himself and Fisher speaking to the denizens there, asking what would become of someone ensconced in stone. Had it not been Aquarian who had reassured them that she would emerge once again?

Black huffed in thought.

"Rest," he suggested. "If you are thirsty, we can try to safely approach water. But I cannot use my shadows to hide us; I believe it attracts them. All magic does. They sense it. If you are hungry I will hunt for you, but you have just awoken."

You have just awoken. You oughtn't fight. This last went unsaid, brow furrowing further as he suddenly approached. His tail wagged, and he sniffed the cat over, pleased that she was alive. Pleased at her familiar presence.

It was good that some things, at least, had not changed.

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The big dog rumbled in thought, almost a growl if one didn't know him; but it was not a growl. More a "hmm," as best a mastiff could manage. At length he looked to Fallah, peering at her closely--then he approached, sniffing her over, if she allowed--to check for himself that she was all right. To satisfy his own concern.

"We could," he suggested at length, stepping back, "find water, food... a shelter for you. I have not been alone and there are many others. I do not know where Fisher is. There is much, too, happening. I have seen Nemean the Betrayer, from time to time. And others. Whatever you do I will aid," he finished, decisively. There was a new sense of purpose about him.

Fallah had always been one of those he had protected, and now that she was back, he would do just that: protect her. If she wished to go hunting, or drink water, he would offer to shadow and to guard her. If she wanted to search for a new home, or explored the caves, he would be there to aid, and to warn her of what he knew.

He sat down, watching her contentedly, wondering what she would do next. If she had questions, too, he could answer them--but he had never been the most talkative type. Briskly to the point, he would answer what he was asked--but might not think to be particularly detailed in his replies.

His loyalty, however, was assured.

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