ORIGIN

After stepping in front of Kalama, forbidding her from joining in on the Trials --- no, she can't go in on the basis of one of those weirdly-numbered Gembound being fairly similar to her --- Eythan sulked back into Canis. He hoped that all of the poor fucks who walked into Hydra, in hindsight, would be alright. If they were going in en masse, they could keep an eye on one another, right?

If only he knew that one of them was presently shitting smoke out onto a plateau specifically to ruin everyone else's day.

He trotted a fair distance into the Chambers, rather aimlessly until a thought came to him: didn't that Merchant dude call the Collector a little bitch? Wholly unaware of the sheer power the eye-handed being apparently held, he snickered. Fucking Algol. What a stupid-ass name for an unreliable, skeevy asshole. The name fit, and the tall being wore it. Physically restraining himself from laughing further on the subject, he happened upon a thought: what would that bitch think about the whatever-Merchant. Not that Algol's opinion really mattered to him. It absolutely did not.

Eythan was just curious, and it never killed the cat, did it?

He chirped, "hey, Collector? I've got a few questions to ask you, if you're around?" Expecting the tall thing's sudden, dramatic presence behind him, he whirled around, "as you usually fuckin' are, breathin' down everyone's damn neck at the same time."

It seemed like the direction he faced never really mattered, because the bootleg car salesman sauntered out of the dark and literally breathed down his neck anyways. The musky odor of old bones flitted up to his nostrils, and Eythan was not happy with that. He shuffled away awkwardly, fanning out his tail in a totally aggressive gesture. It wasn't like he could bare teeth or unsheathe claws, yeah? The Chambers were a bit small to start showing off his wings in, and that was a stupid idea anyways. What was he, some kind of fuckin' bird of paradise?

Anyways.

"My boy?!" he parroted, squawking slightly. In some sad attempt to regain composure and any semblance of standing with the Collector (besides being an idiot gay with wings,) Eythan smoothed down his feathers and put on a falsely charismatic air. "I'll overlook that," he scowled. Fuck, that felt so fake, even for making fun of a dude named Algol. "It's pretty unfair to put a price on words, my guy, but here goes: what's the deal with this... Hydra cave? Some dude called the Masked Merchant was having a buncha Gembound help him open it by finding gemstones. I was going to and then," cue his singular brain cell being on full display, "I forgot about it."

The Collector probably didn't care, at all, what had been going on in this idiot gay's life.

Eythan cleared his throat. "Also, what's the deal with that Merchant fucker? He called you a... doddering something." Keen eyes shifted to the side, trying to figure out what the rest of that raspy thing's words were. Giving up, he shrugged. "Didn't seem too friendly with you when I mistook him for you, which is weeeeeeird."

Woah, shit, was that a reaction?

Eythan's ears flicked up, keen eyes lighting up in rather avid curiosity. Completely giving up his fake salesman posturing, he lowered his head and casually followed after the Collector; he was nearly running to keep up with the being's massive strides. What could possibly be up? he thought, then, he's probably full of shit.

Well, shit, he was definitely following the Collector like a poodle to sate his curiosity.

Eythan halted in his steps before ducking into the bone hut, only to consider that everything either of these strange, tall creatures said should be taken with a grain of salt. Maybe, just maybe, he could put his brain cell to good use and see what lined up and what didn't, even if the Merchant seemed to skeeve him out a lot more than the Collector's empty, red pinpricks for eyes. Now, that's fuckin' something.
The hooded beast had hunched over in a corner, and for some cavesforsaken reason, Eythan took that as an invitation to take a fucking seat. "Only that it's a place for a trial or some shit. To 'forge the strong' in some fuckin' crucible." You could practically hear the air quotes. "A bunch of weird Gembound came out of their chrysalises and had some wild-ass names like fuckin, uh--- Garnet Five-something-somethin'."

He paused, puffing out his feathers somewhat. "It's apparently for making the caves hot as balls. I literally feel like I'm going to fucking melt, all the time."

An honest complaint, but to what department should he send it?

Eythan was just about to repeat himself and his obnoxious air quotes drawl, (y'know, forging the strong was what the trials were, clearly) but realized that the Collector was just being a dramatic, vague bitch. Keen eyes glinted in the half-light, trying his level best to not shuffle uncomfortably away from the pointed finger.

As for pinkie promising, it was whatever. "I doubt it'll ever come up that you're the one telling me shit, but sure." Most of the time, informants weren't involved in jack shit. Glancing down at his talons, he narrowed his eyes. There better not be some fucky contract that involves him getting punched down by a golem and half-dead in a swamp for his own dumbassery.