ORIGIN - • where no one ever goes

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

The stone door was a curiosity. In days previous, they had passed this very point and entered into Fornax; but the door had remained like a hook in mind, unshakable. In the moment, the black shuck sat upon haunches, looking up at it with lunar eyes. Indeed, it filled vision - took up entire field of view - and he bore witness to it in an awestruck, mute way bore partly out of exhaustion. For the tunnel had proven a most difficult trek. Kazgut had only dared travel as far back into the passageway as to behold again the door. Breath came in misted, fogged exhalations, like smoke, and eyes swept down the incline and out toward the main passage.

Here the temperature was unnerving; unforgiving. Fur, congruent in its black, was thick, but even it could not completely combat the chill of the air. For the dampness seemed keen to freeze at lungs with each inhalation. The tunnel seemed to hold no smooth planes; all jagged edges and slick, impossible angles. This was a mountain beneath the earth; this was an excursion that had left body aching and sore. And the grim would stand, sniffing at the air, trying to return feeling to limbs.

No sound was made from own lips, but the cavern seemed full with them. A conscientious effort was made to get blood to return to body, as steps were taken from the door, with nose turned down toward the floor. Sniffing. Inspecting the scent trails that wound their way from here to there - invisible threads connecting bodies no longer seen. The white of the world seemed deafening.

Here we go! Hope you don't mind I got us started~. @Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Distraction came easily in such vast freedom to wander - Garnet Five-Seven-Nine lost track of its first target and bid its second a rather nice farewell (before having a bit of a... erm, breakdown.) But, it had justifications for moving about the caves like it did: familiarity brought better knowledge of their winding passageways and numerous rooms. Here was Pisces - a rather cool lagoon - and there was Orion - a glimmering vault of stars. Its most recent subject of a fly-over was the great furnace Fornax (as a rather kind, large cotton-candy beast informed it.) While the warmth was welcome, the humidity cascading off its waves were becoming a bit much.

The champion was finding quite a preference for the stifling, dry heat of Hydra - or, perhaps, the more mild adjoining tunnel. It didn't render rivulets of water down its wings or clump feathers together into uncomfortable masses. The heat simply was. Much unlike how it was as it dissipated down the sheer cliff marking this passage. A faintly floral scent wafted up the jagged stones, but Garnet's interests lay elsewhere -

Such as the small, dark mass investigating the infinitely heavy stone door.

Ruby-red eyes flickered this way and that as the small, gargoyle-like creature flew overhead the pup. With a snap of its tail and leathery wings, Garnet alighted. Small talons clasped about the handle of a lever - not too far from the door or the furry little thing (a dog, right? Or a wolf? It didn't quite know the difference.) Hunched-over, several feet above the ground with wings spread out, the odd creature shuddered.

"Cold place for a little one," it observed, grinding its beak against its own plight of puffed-out feathers and hunched posture.

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Distraction was finite. Little could be gleaned from that door; for the scents that swirled about it were aging, fading into the obscurity of the surroundings. Questions poised (such as); Who made it? Why was it there? Held little substance without other mouths with stories to tell, and Kazgut was just about to retreat, to withdraw back through its adjacent maw and into Fornax when - noise. Subtle, at first - the flutter of wings. And then there was a shadow cast against the cavern overhead. Legs braced themselves as lunar eyes searched for the stranger. And what a stranger was found!

The black shuck had not seen a hybrid before. A slipslop of lumbering skeletons brought to life? Yes. A hybrid? No. Ears pricked with immediate interest, for the sight of it was strange as it curled talons upon the handle and landed small distance away. Kazgut had only been in the company of those of a kind; canines. Vyette. Fireheart - those that looked like himself. This … creature … was something else entirely. His vocabulary strained to find the words. Goblin? Creature of the cavernous dark!

”Very cold,” Kazgut agreed, for there was little more to do with that statement. Out there, beside the door, the grim was quite cold, and it seemed as though it were not to get any warmer. Stepping closer, eyes swept over the beak, the folded wings. Wanting to ask pressing questions on mind; (What are you? Who are you?) Instead, he asked simply; ”Are you cold?”

For in the back of mind it was wondered if feathers were warmer than fur. The creature had a strange smell, like far-off places, like sand and like water but without moisture. (Warmth.) As nose raised to the air to continue to sniff, never once did eyes forsake it.

It smelled not unlike the mice who shuddered in the corners; but so very different. Nothing else could quite compare to the being before him now.

(Be it as it may) Kazgut did not yet have much worldly experience.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

The garnet teetered forwards a few inches, as it attempted to draw in its wings, then back - overcompensating with its rear. Achieving the perfect balance atop such a small installment was a delicate practice. One would think a (somewhat) bird-like creature could have balance mastered - alas, it took a few precious moments before it could fall still and regard the pup with the same curiosity he did it. It tilted its head to the side, observing Kazgut from that and then the other. Whatever the little one was, he was most certainly similar to Kera.

Large, satellite-dish ears flickered forth. He shared the same opinion of cold. Garnet nodded minutely in acknowledgement with a toss of its tail and further hunching down. "A little. I've just come from there -" Garnet indicated towards the immense stone doors, "it's warmer." A little obvious, but it would explain the water already condensed on its feathers.

Rather predictably, the conversation stagnated immediately after, as it gazed at the ghostly-eyed creature. It was clearly juvenile - or simply had paws too large for the rest of its body - and that was strange and unfamiliar to the champion. Far back as memory stretched (well, what little wasn't obscured by the sands of centuries and centuries) Garnet couldn't see a child. Perhaps it had led a childhood, perhaps it had not.

Ruffling its feathers with a minute click! of quills, Garnet tilted its head again. "What sort of creature are you? Wolf? Or a Dog?" What, really, was the difference?

sorry for the terrible post aaa i'm super sleepy @Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Movement only enhanced curiosity; for each smallest shift of posture seemed to bring with it newness to behold. Ponderous wings, folded upon back; twitch of ears - the toss of tail and hunch of back. Again, the smell of moisture with every subtle change. As a step was taken, closer, to look upon the color that caught on feathers, (Moreso, the color between such colors - the ones captured in the spherical droplets that still lingered, reflecting mirror images of the scene!)

Head tilted, then nodded; as reference was made to what lay beyond the stone door - to the warmth there. The black shuck was longing for such warmth now; in the face of this dreadful cold - a cold only accentuated by the silence that followed. A taste of unease, perhaps, for strangers - and Kazgut had not the grace yet of social manners. Merely staring at the quills, the ruffle of feathers, at the creature - the being - before him.

”Dog,”Kazgut replied, tail fanning the air in a lazy, sweeping wag. For there were memories attached to the word - the knowing of being, the knowing of self - the coming to be. (For dog was he, was his moon - wolf was the fire brother.) Stepping closer, eyes boldly looked up to the perched one. ”What sort of creature are you?”

Returning the question, parroting it back, knowing now that it was (in the moment) appropriate to ask. For it was true that the grim had never seen a creature like this in the caverns before. This experience was new. And with lunar eyes looking up, every instance was absorbed.

For already in life there was a decrease in firsts; and this? This was a first; abstract forming from a conceptual somewhere.

”Do you have a name?”

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

The light in this entrance was fairly bright, but even then, Garnet could barely discern notable characteristics of the pup. No scars marred the flanks, nor signs of starvation or illness. It could be presumed that this strange spot of night had yet to meet a struggle in his life. Perhaps, some time in the future, there would be. If they had their way - they being those from before this time - it would be soon. He approached, and - just to humor him - it extended one wing to its full length. The span of it caught the light breeze where Fornax's warmth clashed with ice's breath; Garnet hunched down so that it may as well be flush against the entirety of the lever's handle.

In any case, Garnet's rudimentary knowledge of the modern era's species was proving useful. Its guess was essentially on the money - the creature revealing his true identity to be a tail-wagging, curious little dog. Now, with its only experience on the subject of canines being those of a large sort, it was further convinced this was just a juvenile being. Soon to grow larger than it was, even now. Those pale, ghostly eyes were those of a hunter.

Now, what sort of creature was it? It ground its beak. Classifications and differentiation between different kinds of Gembound had been limited, then, to Masters, Overseers, Champions, Workers... - to its memory, anyways. There was no subsects and rarely proper consistency as far as it knew. With a sway of its tail, Garnet returned its spread wing to a rather damp side. "I am a champion, and a servant to the Overseer," the odd creature paused, feathers clicking as they flared about the neck, and clarified, "I'm from a time quite long before you. There weren't dogs or wolves or cats."

Then, it set to grinding its beak together. Introducing via designation seemed to be proving fruitless, given that all of these new children cared little to remember what made its designation somewhat unique. Numbers were not quite so memorable or well-tracked, these days. Alas, the champion had yet to settle on a name of choice. It shook its head, ears flickering back. "I don't have one, not yet. I haven't decided on one," and here the dice spun in its conscious, "Hemlocke, perhaps? Or Monkshood." Younger Gembound could prove to be a useful authority on the naming of oneself and creation of an identity.

Out of politeness, it added, "I doubt you've a designation, so - what's your name?"

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Fascination was basal. Curiosity drove eyes to devour the length of the wing as it was extended, watching as the joints moved; feathers fanned to catch the straying particles of light and dashing moisture. The very way that bones uncoiled beneath surface and sinew stretched was alien; as so much of the caverns (unknowingly) were. It was as though the creature before the black shuck represented the vast, untouchable everything that existed within this place that was (and simultaneously - was not -) home. Such a though brought no comfort and no distress; just … existentialism that the pup failed yet to grasp.

Ears perked at the words that were spoken; champion. Servant to the Overseer. To own ears, the words sounded of importance, although mind had yet to know what worth to give them. Perhaps it was in the way that they were spoken - with frank knowledge of importance. Kazgut tilted head, trying to imagine a time without wolves or cats or dogs. In basic way, to own mind, it meant that self could not exist (for his mind was still very simple) - and that was distressing and mystifying and … curious. Own ears only continued to prick; for this was a very interesting conversation.

”Champion.” Spoken as a murmur, beneath breath; for thoughts hinged on the word to assign it a greater meaning; the whisper of things known and not-known. Tail fanned the air, a lazy sort of wag, as names were spoken of. ”Monkshood. Hemlocke.” Tasting these names and looking up at the creature upon the lever - the champion upon the lever.

Champion Hemlock? Feeling as though that tasted the best - yes. ”Hemlocke has a good mouthfeel,” Kazgut explained simply the choice, lunar eyes gazing upwards from void face. ”Monkshood is coarse, mouth full of rock-” for he had not yet been taught that such a blunt way of speaking might not be best.

And Kazgut did not have a designation (although mind puzzled quite so on how one might have a designation such as champion, and what impossibilities one must do or be in order to obtain such) - and so he answered as simply as the rest - ”I am Kazgut.” For he knew this to be the truth.

”I am new to time.” Phrasing it as it had been phrased - (I’m from a time quite long before you …) as it had stuck in mind.

Validation and understanding, perhaps - or mere acknowledgement - that they were two of a different kind.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

"Champions," it chirped again - like the word seemed to necessitate repeating a third time - before giving further explanation, "are those that ran honorably and survived. That will continue to run, once the trials return." Garnet puffed out its chest at this, wings folding. Perhaps, it could spread a good impression of the old ways - that those who survived them received only the highest accolades and favor of the Masters and Overseers and all of creation. Why should it not begin with the children of these Youngers? They were the most curious, most new.

Ruby-red eyes stared down at the pup as it tasted the names and words provided, mulling over the feeling and sensation it pulled from the lips and throat. The verdict, then, became a lean towards Hemlocke. Monkshood - symbolic as it was - lacked the smoothness and subtle edge of the former. "I see - thank you," it hummed, considering, "I'll try Hemlocke for a while, then." This pup, at least, would be remembered for helping it decide on a name. It was a little favor, but vastly appreciated.

As expected, he lacked a designation. Only a sharply accented, strange name: Kazgut. A little like 'Kera,' but still vastly different. "Kazgut," Garnet tried out, finally flitting down from its lever-perch. Grinding its beak, it surveyed the void-dog from below, now. Sniffing. Curious and keen-eyed. He most certainly smelled new, lacking of the depth of scent acquired from so many cycles of movement and settlement. "I know you are new," it chirped, head tilting to and fro as it sat squarely before the child, "what've you experienced so far? Learned? How did you come to be here?"

It was curious about just how new this creature was.

sorry for taking so long to reply with such a little post aaa i've been super tired and out of it as far as garnet muse ;a;
@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Ears flicked, catching the syllables that tumbled forth; of champions and trials - honorable survival. Images were conjured of great things, of terrible things, although such imagery was shadowy - minimal. (Drawing as it was upon limited experience.) But there was something in the way that Hemlocke said these things that drew the black shuck to reflect on the meanings. (And would reflect on for some time, doubtless.) Kazgut knew little of the ways of the cavern - of the times that came before - indeed, he knew next to nothing. But this was the first trifle understanding that this world had not began with the emergence of self. (What an interesting thing to imagine!)

Movement. Nearer, the one that he had named Hemlocke came; in a great fluttering of wings. Grind of beak - looking up curiously. Sitting upon hinds, the grim returned the curiosity, the basal inspection - finding the smells that swirled around the creature fascinating. Was this was age smelled like? (Was this what champions smelled like?) Up close, Hemlocke was still just as new, and was watched through lunar sight even as the question was considered at some length.

“A roaring waterfall falling from above,” Kazgut told Hemlocke, starting at the very beginning, “And the cold of water when it clings to your fur.” For he remembered that well, the way that Vyette had shivered there in that cavern, near all that water. “Moving to the big cavern, with the many gemstones upon the ceiling … where I later hunted fish in the stream …” For these were important to he.

“There were skeletons in sandy, empty caverns - but they were not normal bones and moved about strangely.” He did not like remembering that. “We went back to the big cavern and hunted fish in the stream. We met another dog-wolf - I saw him come to be … he was brother.” Tail swished at this. (Kazgut did not notice that he had transitioned into using “we”; thinking of Vyette.)

“Then … Vyette knew we must explore. Must learn. So we came here,” Kazgut turned eyes to the rest of the tunnel and lips peeled back over moonstone and teeth, giving a silent snarl of distaste. “It was hard going. We got separated.”

A note of sadness at that. Incompletion.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine - My turn to apologize! Life has been getting in my way.

As the younger inspected it from yet-closer, apparently finding details he hadn't before, Garn- Hemlocke waited; these creatures couldn't possibly have much to remember, but perhaps even the smallest details of their lives were worth remembering. The champion was quite the opposite: it sometimes wished it could forget all the small things. Some of its worse trials, for one. Hazy as those memories were, they were regrettable.

Kazgut, after a moment, spoke about - Pisces, perhaps? It, aside from Fornax, was the only cavern it knew of having falling water. But, the latter wasn't cold. The humidity clung to it even now. He went on to mentioning Orion and its crystalline ceiling. No thought of the odd bones on the throne - before, perhaps? They arrived in the next words, even the dead in Canis animated. Strange, indeed. Hemlocke hadn't witnessed moving bones since the lizard, now locked forever on the seat - somehow it didn't think that would go over well in the future.

More about exploration and meeting another canine creature, now neither dog or wolf. Both? Odd. Hemlocke's ears pricked up further at the abrupt shift from vaguely singular narrative to 'we.' Almost immediately after was the mention of some Vyette. Lips peeled back, revealing a stone it recognized vaguely as moonstone - hecatolite. Fairly common, if it remembered correctly. It shifted on the spot, preening with a single paw. "This Vyette - is she a dog as well?" Not that it really had a preference for them or finding the pup's other half. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Again, it was merely curious. How did Gembound interact when not presented with a constant life-or-death dilemma?

@Kazgut