ORIGIN

Astéri
seek what sets your soul on fire

Polaris—burned.

Had burned, anyways; the great dragon Raheerah had long since been here and back, burning a swathe of terror through the great center of the caves into Orion, the room of stars. An inferno followed in his wake; a cataclysm, one could even call it.

Even now, after the bulk of the blaze had burned itself down, some remnants of the dragon's wrath still remained. Residual flames crackled and leapt, devouring the mosses as fuel, and the stone itself melted and flowed in small rivulets of bright magma where the inferno was strongest.

And among this less than hospitable environment, there was a single, small chrysalis, tucked away between a cluster of azure-glowing crystals. Perhaps the magic of Raheerah's flame had unintentionally given life to a once-lifeless gemstone? Perhaps the ambient magic of Polaris was simply enough to give rise to yet another gembound of the caves, and its location was simply coincidence?

No matter; the spark that created this chrysalis was there no matter what its origin, and now the facets of a gemstone chrysalis gleamed among the flame. It had spread, somewhat, despite its creator having long since left this area, and now it threatened the chrysalis itself, licking at its walls as if it was attempting to find purchase on the smooth gemstone.

Ordinarily, even with a gemstone as sensitive to temperature as opal, the chrysalis would have stood strong—but the little gembound within was almost ready to hatch, and its body pressing against the now too-small confines of its shell was simply too much.

The flames burned, and they burned, and then—a sharp crack rang out, and the opal shell shattered.

Amniotic fluid gushed out of the once-whole chrysalis, dousing a small area around it, driving the flames of the inferno back with a distinct sizzling around and a rush of smoke—and Astéri awoke.

—

It’s—hot. It’s really hot.

That’s the first thing he notices, anyways; he can feel the heat against his fur, even though it’s muted because of a certain wetness on his fur.

The second thing he notices is the intense smell of smoke in the air, the way it seems to invade his lungs and make breathing far more difficult than it should be.

The third thing he notices—and this is the most important to him, the thing that makes his little kitten eyes widen and makes him struggle to his feet—is the burning. The light, the—the dancing reds and yellows and oranges, all so, so bright, the—the—

—fire.

This is his world: to Astéri’s small, young mind, there is only the cool, wet stone (the same kind of wetness that is quickly fading from his fur), the black-ash char under the inferno, and the flame.

There’s so much of it, especially to a little kitten like him, and he takes a few, tottering steps forward and—

—slips. The dampness of the stone beneath him makes it hard to get proper purchase on the stone, but he huffs in irritation, narrows his eyes, and stands up again.

He wants to be closer to the flame.

The wetness that was, just a little bit ago, clinging his fur has now quickly dried, causing his fur to stick up in all directions from the heat. He can feel it so much more now. He thought it was hot earlier; but, no, that was just warm. This is hot; the heat of the flame bearing down in all directions, giving him the urge to squint as he makes his way ever-closer to the fire, making him pant as he walks.

The smoke he smelled earlier is heavy in the air, too; now even more so as he progresses towards the flame. It’s intense to the point it’s almost choking; every panting breath he takes makes the urge to cough rise ever-further in his throat.

But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that—so young and youthful and new to the world, his mind doesn’t have a sense of proper danger. Not yet; there’s only an urge to learn and see in his head.

He begins to feel uncomfortable; dizzy. Black spots begin to dance in front of his vision—his clumsy kitten’s gait is now punctated by his swaying side to side. He really does cough, now; but at last, he’s finally made it as close to the fire as he feels he can get.

It isn’t close enough, and a part of him is childishly annoyed by the unfairness of it. It’s so hot that he doesn’t feel like he can get any closer, but he wishes he could. The dancing light of the flame, the flickers and flares of the sparks leaping off it is almost hypnotic in the way it captivates him.

He wants—he wants—

His mind spins, suddenly unable to catch the thread of his thoughts. He’s so dizzy, he can’t think, and the smoke is so heavy this close to the flame, he can’t breathe—

He sways on his feet, stumbles, and, carefully, unthinking of the danger of passing out this close to the inferno, raises one paw up to reach towards the fire…

...and falls to the ground, unconscious.

Astéri
seek what sets your soul on fire

Suddenly, out of nothing, Astéri is distantly aware of the feeling of impacting against lukewarm stone, and his mind spins. What happened? How did he get here? He was just reaching towards the fire, and then there was a growing sense of dizziness in his head, getting more and more and more intense, and then it was too much, and then…?

The abrupt, intense need for him to cough interrupts his train of thought for the moment, and he wheezes, shifting on the ground but not yet letting his eyes open, too confused to focus on his surroundings for the moment. Instead, he focuses on how his body feels—how his chest aches, burning like the heat of a flame. That must have something to do with the fire. The smoke must have made it hard for him to breathe; he feels like even now it’s still in his chest, making every breath he takes much more of an endeavor than it should be.

Is he still around the fire?

Slowly, he opens his eyes, paws shifting on the stone as he tries to get to his feet—and Astéri promptly sets into a series of harsh, wheezing coughs, the taste of soot registering in his mouth as he tries to clear his lungs. It’s kind of disgusting, and he coughs a few more times in a futile attempt to get it out before giving up and accepting that he’s stuck with it.

Letting his eyes flutter open once more, (they had closed instinctively while he was coughing)he sees—something standing over him, a figure on his hands and knees, watching him intently.

The first thing he notices about him is his dark fur, a dark grey that reminded him of the soot of the fire, so much different than his own tan, spotty pelt, and—as he cranes his head to look up at the rest of him, Astéri himself being just a little taller than his ankle—a mane of dark hair growing from his head.

He shifts, taking a few steps back, and meets the elf’s mismatched green-indigo eyes with his own fire-orange ones, staring at him with a kind of childish curiosity. There’s a clustered white gemstone on his shoulder that makes an instinct in his head tell him that this is a fellow gembound, but other than that, the elf is a stranger to him.

Who…?

He opens his mouth a little in an instinctive, childish attempt to speak—and ends up in another harsh coughing fit, stumbling forward and bumping into the other gembound’s leg as his body tries to rid itself of the smoke and ash he’d inhaled.

He shakes himself indignantly, dislodging some of the soot from his fur in a hazy, grey cloud, takes a few steps back, and goes right back to staring up at the elf.

This time, he manages to actually speak, head tilting in an expression of curiosity. “Who? Who… are you?”

His words are halting, rough; although he may know the common language of the gembounds, every word that falls from his mouth is new. So very new, to match the youth of a newborn gembound like him.

He pauses. “Did you… move me?”

He doesn’t register the fact that the elf had saved him from the danger of the flames, simply because he hasn’t acknowledged any danger at all. He just knows that before, he was reaching towards the fire, and now he’s here with the gembound in front of him.

Speaking of which… “What… happened?”

Astéri
seek what sets your soul on fire

The elf speaks gently as Astéri tries to recover from his smoke inhalation, and he feels a sense of calm begin to sweep into his chest as he feels him place a hand on his back. His voice is soft and soothing and even though the little cub has just met this elf, he feels safe with him. Childish instinct tells him that this one will take care of him, will keep him safe.

The thought makes him happy, and he expresses as much with a soft rumbling sound in his throat; not quite a purr, not for a leopard like him, more so just a sound of contentment.

"At—ti—ki—as," he pronounces, sitting back on his haunches and watching the elf's fidgeting movements. He seems worried, somehow, but Astéri just can't figure out the reason why. He feels happy and safe right now. Why isn't he?

Astéri does a quick self-assessment when Attikias asks about him. There's still that weird ashen taste in his mouth—not good, he doesn't like tasting that—but the rest of him is okay! He can see fine, he can smell fine, he can hear fine, and he thinks the worst of the coughing's over. He's okay.

With that settled, his mind quickly wanders to other things—like the fire still raging next to them, big and bright and casting red-orange light over the two of them. It makes Attikias look kind of dramatic, the way the light contrasts with his dark form, and Astéri completely misses whatever he's saying as his attention turns back to the flame.

It's pretty... he wonders if he can try to get closer to the flame now that he's on the edge of it rather than in the middle of it? He wants to try.

Completely disregarding any of Attikias' words about water or taking a breather, he stands up, sets his eyes firmly on the flame, and begins to try to walk towards it again.

He wonders what will happen when he does get to touch it...

Astéri
seek what sets your soul on fire

Astéri hesitates at Attikias—Attik’s—sounds of panic, his words frantic as he tries to warn the little cub away from the fire, and although he doesn’t see any reason why, exactly, he should stay away from the fire, the tone in his voice is enough to make him slow his walk.

He makes a noise of disappointment in his throat as his path is abruptly blocked by Attik himself, but he stays obedient—as his hands gently push him backwards, he obliges, even if it makes him even more disappointed to stay away from the fire. It’s so bright, though…

“Why… why is it danger?” Astéri asks. How can something so… interesting, and beautiful, and a bunch of other things the little cub has no words for, be harmful? He doesn’t understand—the logic doesn’t compute in his mind.

“You’re near the fire,” he says, a hint of triumph in his voice, as if this argument trumps any reason why he shouldn’t be allowed next to the fire. It isn’t fair that he doesn’t get to touch it just because he’s young! Just because… just because he’s new or whatever doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t come close! It’s unfair. He wants to be close to the flames again.

He isn’t satisfied with just watching, anyways. He wants… he wants to do something more with the fire, and to Astéri, who doesn’t know what magic is, let alone how to control it, touching it is the first thing that comes to mind.

It isn’t fair.

Astéri
seek what sets your soul on fire

Astéri can’t help but feel so disappointed when Attikias tells him that the fire can hurt. That isn’t fair! It isn’t right that he can’t get close to the fire just because it’ll hurt him. He doesn’t see any reason why it should be hurt-y; to him, the fire hurts even though it has no reason to! It isn’t fair. He wants to be able to get as close to the fire as possible—he wants to be able to be in the fire!

But being in the fire means passing out, and apparently it also means getting hurt really badly, and Astéri doesn’t want any of those things to happen to him.

At least Attik seems to realize that his argument is right, and concedes that Astéri is allowed to get close to the fire—

—and that’s almost enough for Astéri to charge off into the flames once again, but this time he’s learned that it’s important to listen to Attik, so when he starts speaking again, Astéri hesitates mid-step and looks back up at the elf.

Attik’s asking him questions now—something that surprises Astéri just slightly, because he was beginning to think that he didn’t need to ask questions, because he knew everything—and he wonders to himself what his name is.

Well, that’s easy! He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he knows what his name is! It’s—”Astéri!” he says, putting a childish emphasis on the last syllable of the word. That’s his name! That’s what he’s called!

The discovery of this makes his tail twitch a little happily—he has a name, yeah!—but then his thought process moves onto the next question, and he cycles right back into confusion.

“What’s a ‘hatch’?” he asks.

“I was in a bunch of stone, and then the stone broke, and—and then I was in the fire!” he says immediately afterwards, answering Attik’s question to the best of his ability.

The mention of the fire makes him think of it again, and then his attention is drawn to the blaze behind Attik, and he starts moving once more, this time keeping his words in mind.

He can get close—but not too close—but that’s okay to him, because Attikias is already pretty close to the fire, and that’s good enough for him!

He takes a few steps towards the fire, then another, taking a short hop over Attik’s tail, and he knows he shouldn’t be closer than Attik is but he quickly finds himself not caring, because the fire is so bright that he can’t help but want to be as close as possible to it.

It seems to dance, he thinks; flickering between positions, grey smoke rising from it into the air, and he’s so captivated by that that it takes him a few moments (and a few more steps forward) to recognize the heat.

It’s really hot, just like it was when he was in the middle of it, but he notices that instead of being surrounded by the heat, it’s only flowing over his front, causing him to squint into the brightness of the fire.

In fact… it’s too hot.

He hisses in the back of his throat and dances away as soon as he realizes that, quickly learning what exactly Attikias meant by ‘it can hurt’. He wasn’t even touching the fire—what would happen if he did?

Whatever the case, he knows better now, and takes a quick glance back at Attik before deciding to sit down right next to him, staring at the flame.

It’s pretty.