ORIGIN

The sound of the water was omnipresent, reverberating from the stone walls like many voices echoed back. In all pitches, such sounds did come - from the slow trickle of rivulets run upon walls or droplets falling to meet the cavern floor. But all was shadowed against the backdrop of the waterfall and its thunderous noise. Tucked aside the slope of the walls, beneath the many jagged outcroppings, a chrysalis - no - a pair, like imperfect planetary bodies - of moonstone and obsidian - remained. Looking like little more than two veins of colorlessness around which the water made its way … the lunar form was made flawed. Cracks had begun to spread across its jagged face. Gradually, fissures formed, splitting apart the stone casing that surrounding the form which lay, hidden, inside. Awareness of the water came first, for steadily it had begun to stream inside the swathe of gemstone. Cool, was it - cold. An ear flicked. Eyes opened. From this vantage, pressed against the sides of the chrysalis that could no longer contain a body … the world was first beheld.

Movement was instinctual. The desire was simple - birthed from the need to uncurl oneself from the fetal position in which it had been so longly coiled. Unfurling spine, the canine put pressure against the moonstone shell and felt as the plating began to give. This was good, it was decided. That is what was wanted. Fueled by unspoken need, the pod was forced to break open - and the form tumbled out. Sliding along the slickness of the floor, it came to rest some yards away, no worse for wear. Falling was not good. Eyes made to look around, bringing head along with them. From the shapeless haze, silhouettes came into focus. Legs experimentally rose and the pup pushed up, forcing self into a sit. Before staring up - up - at the waterfall. The sound of it - so close - resounded through that body - a sound that meant nothing and yet was everything. Nose sniffed. Dampness. Water. The air was so heavy with moisture.

Sodden, the small one felt chilled. A shiver traced body, sensation unfamiliar. Again, by instinct, fur was shaken, trying to rid self of that wet. Head then swept, eyes moved on, and attention followed. Focus was narrowed onto a shallow puddle upon the floor where - reflection - was sought. Moon eyes in a dark face. Nose pressed to nose. Strange. This was neither good nor bad. From the throat came a strange sound - a mewl of soundlessness - of smallest noise - as the canine sat beside the pool and looked down at … himself. For a moment he was transfixed before the cavern seemed to flicker - shudder with lack of light - and ears pressed flat to skull.

Air was sniffed. Staying low, as though the lights might fall from where they were perched, he moved, slowly - inching way back toward the chrysalis from whence he had so came. It seemed duller somehow, lacking, and his mind was not concerned with it. Instead, sight was set on the dark, nigh colorless, void of rock that had nestled so long beside it. Obsidian. Nose was pressed to the surface, fogging momentarily the perfect sheen.

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@Vyette

Attention was stolen by movement within. Underneath the blackened surface, whisps of white seemed to float, to press just beneath the surface. Standing above and looking down, much as he had done with the pool of water, own reflection was muddled, murky, and fascination - knowledge - that something called out from inside. Awareness was growing, as not even the might of the waterfall could steal away the notes - a bark! - a cry! - that drew him closer still. Nose pressed intently to the fissures that had punctured the obsidian surface. An oblong crack spanned the distance between the moonstone shell that had contained him and that which was still mostly intact. A scent could be gleaned, the warmth of another body - something beyond the wet, the cold, the shivering of the air that surrounded the cavern.

Own lips parted - noise. A reply. Not a soft sound at first, no - a bark. Attention! Although it was shallowed by the might of the waterfall, it resounded downward, to the intended target. Second sound followed, a softer note, one far less weighty, something like a whine, like a return to her own mute warbling. Paws at once began to dig, claws seeking to catch the seams where the obsidian had already fractured. Nose lowered, sniffing as he did so, searching for the smell - the warmth - and looking with eyes for the ghosts of movement within. Teeth were set also to this work, black gums parting and allowing the moonstone that shone like needle points from within maw to attempt to chip - chip away the outer casings.

Balance was difficult to keep upon the surface of the obsidian tomb, slick and dampened as it were. Stance was tentative, made all the more unsteady by the purposeful actions that the small void one was attempting to inflict. Snarls of commitment left lips, little frustrated growls - ignoring the pressure of the rocks against teeth, against paws. Looking only for the ghost below - silverfish encased.

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@Vyette

Devotion. This was the first taste; like iron upon the tongue. Heavy and breathlessly warm. Gums had been slashed by the obsidian, cutting deep inside the mouth - revealing naught but more jagged pinnacles; moonstone rusting, dripping red! Barely was it noticed. Mind was singular to its ascribed purpose. Focus became thee. As the sounds of the wraith within - the being trapped beneath! - rose to meet him from below. Heartbeat rose, pounding blood through veins and although no words were yet known to describe these feelings - he knew he must continue. This was the option. There was no stopping.

For now the adrenaline kept the pain from settling in too deep - distracted, too, by the smell on the air (dizzying!) shifting between fear and relief. Caustic emotions tasted. And he, and he - immutable as that from which he was formed - dug claws deeper to better cling to the surface of the chrysalis. Emotion, the intensity of which could not be contained within that small frame, bled and smeared in with the blood as pure, frenzied need.

Weight was thrown against the obsidian shell, as claws caught in the edges of the fissures and sought to - peel! - back - as teeth dug deeper and pulled - desperate to remove any shards that they could. Mouth full of rocks - claws scraping - body bending to this and only to this - the void one writhed amongst the veins until (with a backward pull!) the fissures ... gave way.

For the second time, the black pup was tossed aside, skidding - falling backwards as the obsidian crumbled away beneath paws. Raising self from the floor, he shook - shook - attempting to clear the dizziness from head, the haze from those lunar eyes.

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@Vyette

Tongue was run over rended gums, tarnished teeth. Head shook to clear the haze that rested heavy behind eyes. Ears were full again with the sound of the waterfall; impossibly close. White noise. More, senses were overpowered. Warmth of proximity. Air sharp with tension released. And there - she! Awakened at last. Dark eyes, the perfect counterbalance. The scales of this universe are rightened in own mind, and weigh even. For her hair is wild about her; wisps of mist and cobwebs - the color of the moonstone, purest. And he falls into those eyes that are so unalike own. There are no moons, no. They are voids to be gazed deep into - lightless pools with stars catching the light from deep, deep within - all three. And in this, he feels satisfied.

Tail wags, low, validation, instinctual communication. Nearing, able to move closer on unsteady limbs. Sorting over form, to make sure that she is not in pieces. Nose presses curiously to the fur at the side of neck - silken. Never has he felt before softness, and in this, he knows - it is well. Noise is given, notes not unlike those before - but this time in … greeting? Low tail wags.s Ears curious. Familiar. For he knows her. For he has laid beside her entombed, enshrouded - waiting for emergence. They - backwards crescent moons fit so imperfectly, separated by gemstone.

Lips part, finding the sting at the upper part of her abdomen, at stomach. Where the blood had pooled. Beginning now to turn cool and harden, to cling to the fur there. Mat it. Without thought, he grooms there, trying to erase the tarnish of rust upon the milk pale surface of her. After a moment, he succeeds, ceases, and turns to look out at their limited world.

All the former emotion has left him. With her appearance, fear has fled him. Purpose has become him, in this start. For now, at the beginning of all things.

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@Vyette

The waterfall is not all in the cavern, although the presence of it makes it feel as all. Upwards, the ceiling seems to part in a shape that curves crescent and eyes are drawn there then wide, sweeping the jagged edges of the room. Oh, that is not good! Decided simply, reminded of the splines that curved outward from within the obsidian tomb. No want is had to transverse such spires, not yet, and beyond, encased in the spray and mist of waters, there is color. Green, although that is not a word that he knows. All that is known is the slickness of rock, its shades, and its pains. Again tongue is ran over gums and as heartbeat begins to slow, he can feel the shards between claws. But -!

She is barking. Bright of sound - brighter than the color at the other end of the cavern. He reprises it - barking! As loud as can be dared - liking the way that it fills the air! Bark! And - what is this? Her front lowers, hips held high, and tail - lofty banner fanning. Yes! Returning it eagerly, he mimics her posture, bowing low - before head tilts - paw reaches out to her - smacking at the air in a playful manner! Own tail wagging, returning that communication. Play!

Lunge is taken at her - as though to tackle! But he does not. This is his first deceit. Instead, the black shuck feigns the rush and then paws at her again, play bowing. Retreating! Shuffling backward - scooting - on uncoordinated feet. Bidding her to chase. Bidding her to play! In this all other thoughts are lost, and again, his mind is focused upon her. Gone is the pain. Gone is the earlier ordeal. This is the second start. This is the start of all the good, and this is the start of them.

”Vvvvvvyyy!” He growls, a noise with clear syllable.

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@Vyette