The half-blind fledgling, stone-shielded eyes wide and near-unseeing, quietly edged through the dark of the tunnel and into Polaris. She'd seen a procession of creatures: spiked, strange, twisted. They had not seen her. They were not real: or rather, they were not there, in the sense of time, in the sense of past and present. She had seen, instead, a shadow: an echo of what once had been.
But Hecate was a newly-hatched, and she did not know this. Scraggly, confused, a little alone, she followed the direction they'd gone. She could see the vague, glowing shape of the Spire: huge, alien to her. It was enormous and monolithic, and she was both drawn to it--curious as to what iti was, as she could not see it well from here--and wary of it. But where had the strangers gone-? Alarm trickled through her; she shouldn't have lost them, not so quickly. What had she been doing, last she'd seen them-?
His first thought was of the fluffiness it had. It invoked a sense of youth in Tyr (granted, he was definitely young himself), mirrored only by a sense of uniqueness. From his perspective, he had no sight of a gem as he soared about them, head tilting left and right to get better angles. Was this like the others that had no sense of language? Could this one speak? It seemed to carry itself with more purpose than the mindless beasts of the caves, and that spiked the young birds interest enough to glide down and approach.
His wings were quick to tuck themselves behind his back. He halted for the briefest moment before hopping forward, able to see much more at this distance and definitely enough to be within talking distance. With a minuscule greeting bob of his head, Tyr turned his head to glance to the Spire before looking back to the owl-like individual. The Spire was certainly a source of a lot of the smaller bird's ministrations, and yet, now that he thought of it, he'd never dared to get close enough to actually do something about his thoughts for it.
Perhaps this being had been brave enough to approach the thick field of magic and step closer to it than he had.
Clearing his throat, Tyr raised his head and splayed a wing in front of him, his wrist against his gem as he bowed properly.
Shuffling in place, he returned his wing back to his back and turned to face the Spire.
The sound began to fade from Hecate's vision. Before the vision itself completely evaporated, there was a large, beast-like creature stepping out from behind the Spire, its gaseous green eyes seemingly locked onto her. Its mouth moved, but she could not hear it. Whatever it might have said would leave her with a cold feeling: the primal grip of true fear. It was as if her body knew to be afraid, to cower and to yield. Something deeper than primal instinct commanded her to be fearful, the very magic inside of her recoiling from the vision, leaving Hecate to feel ill.
@Hecate @Tyr
Hecate remained quiet, lost in her trance, as Tyr approached.
She watched the strangers as they wandered to the Spire, unaware it was nothing but a vision, a memory; she thought she was seeing truly, seeing past her haze of green color. But the strangers spoke--or rather, one spoke; a booming voice that seemed to roil through her. She quailed back, and when the monster stepped from behind the Spire, she flattened herself to the ground in fear. She opened her black beak to cry out, but nothing came forth--and suddenly she lost sight of it, the green tint returning to her sight.
"...mind some company?" There was another voice, talking to her--a calmer voice, a kinder one.
Hecate blinked.
Her heart was racing, she realized--her breathing coming in short and frightened pants. But she rallied, as best a child could: she lifted her large head, peering and blinking again around her.
She looked back, for a moment, to the Spire--likely looking rather lost. The group of creatures there was gone. The color of the Spire had changed, and the creature behind it was no longer there. The young hybrid was but a child, with no frame of reference for the world--let alone for disappearing and reappearing entities within it, and places suddenly changing color. For all she knew, it might change back; they might reappear. Hell, she herself might be phasing in and out of some sort of other reality.
No answer came. She turned, and--puzzled by the sudden silence, and all that she had seen--wandered off.
@Tyr