ORIGIN - creeping mat of mycelia

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Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

The thought of the node of Mother that had taken root in the fern trench lingered in the back of Daughter’s mind when she wasn’t ‘resting’ or immersed in the thought of her siblings. She worried for it, as she did for all her family; what if something came across her and tried to destroy her? What if they succeeded? She loved her Mother, so very very much—she didn’t want her hurt.

And she knew, of course, that this was only one node of mother, one piece; she had presences elsewhere, in the lessers of the caves and in her and her siblings and in all the other hives that had been established, and that if this one piece of Mother was destroyed she would still live on, but it was still very bad in her eyes for any harm to come to her family at all and she loved them so much and she worried.

And she knew that she was still just a kid, and she should focus on growing and learning all the things her family had to teach her, focus on all the memories in her head there weren’t her own—the thought made her content and happy despite her worries, knowing how connected she was to her family—but time and time again she found herself thinking about that bit of Mother in Eridanus.

So she had decided that she would patrol over there, today, and focus on spreading Mother among the lessers for a while, to quell her worries just a little bit. Tending to Mother and spreading her around made her feel so blissful, so content knowing that she was helping her family.

The tunnel between Cetus and Eridanus is branching and twisting, leading to so many places that murmur in her memory whenever she thinks about it, but her siblings and the many lessers under Mother had gone through this place before—she remembers outside herself that her brother Solis was here, before he joined the family… the memory holds no fear, no anger, only a soft acceptance, and it makes her hum softly in the back of her throat with love.

Then the thought passes, and she is focused only on her goal as she navigates to the greenery of Eridanus. She makes a stop at the growing hive in the cave nestled in the trench, appreciating how out-of-the-way it is, soothing herself with the thought of it. Mother has grown well here; she has consumed the plants in this cave and grown and grown and she decides that she should bring some more plants down here so that Mother can grow further. Spreading her presence to the lessers can wait for now.

With that in mind, she exits the cave at a brisk walk, head swinging and nose sniffing as she searches for something good. Sure, she can probably just scoop up a mouthful of leaves and bring them back to Mother—she is always hungry, their Mother, and never picky—but maybe, if she’s lucky, she can find a particularly large plant or the corpse of something to leave in the cave.

ooc: Daughter’s just going to be doing Stuff For The Hive but if you want to throw a character into this thread at any point feel free to! Just be warned that she can and will attempt to infect anyone non-Hive and bring them into the family >:3
Set before 'YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM'!

Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

Warning in this post specifically for gore/disgusting imagery, as I describe Daughter picking up a rotten rabbit in the worst way possible. Why did I do this to myself.

Oh! There—she catches a particular scent soon enough, the sweet, almost familiar smell of rot coming from somewhere in the nearby brush. Even in this trench, she is surrounded by the sprawling flora of Eridanus, but her nose is strong and now that she’s located the corpse, she won’t let the pollen and leaves and sticks stop her from shoving her way through the underbrush in search of it.

She finds it soon enough, the smell of decay growing ever-stronger as she approaches—it’s a lesser rabbit, lying next to a bloodied spire of stone. It must have fallen and split itself on the rock, she notes with a hum of happiness; although the blackened innards strewn over the sharp stone are too high up for someone as small as her to reach, she finds it easy to scoop up the rabbit itself in her jaws.

It’s quite large in her mouth, however, and she finds herself squinting in focus as she tilts her head and readjusts her grip, internally lamenting the dark slurry of organs and blood that spills through her teeth as she does so. She’d like as much left inside the rabbit as possible for Mother to consume, after all.

There. That’s better.

The buzzing of flies following after the rabbit in her jaws accompanies her as she makes her way back to the cave Mother is in, and Daughter wonders vaguely if they can become part of Mother, too. Surely they can—every living thing can become part of the family, after all, right?

What a wonderful thought! These flies, being in the presence of Mother, will become her eyes and help the family, too.

She gingerly sets the rabbit down in front of one of the budding white mushrooms, admiring her handiwork with a muted hum.

Wait, there’s one other thing…

Daughter pauses before opening her mouth, spitting some maggots back onto the rabbit. There; they must have crawled onto her tongue while she was carrying the thing. It would have been a shame if she missed those… every living thing should be a part of Mother, right?

She gives another hum of happiness, this one slightly louder, and then steps past the rabbit to grab a larger, more developed chunk of Mother ever-so-gently in her jaws. She has an idea for this, involving her magic… she just has to test it and see if it works.

She lets her eyes slip shut and attempts to will a light forth.

Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

Daughter feels herself losing control of the spell before it happens; a tremble of the mental sense of her magic, and then a rush, and then—

—BANG!

She registers blinding, burning-hot pain along her shoulder and screams. Birds fly from the trees around her, taking flight at the sound, and she finds tears glimmering in her eyes from the pain as her magic backfires upon her. Blindly, she stumbles against a cave wall, and then flinches back with a hiss—oh, it hurts.

She digs her claws into the dirt below her in a futile attempt to suppress the pain. She can smell the smoky-ashen smell of burnt fur in the air as her head spins with worry—she needs help. Something to fix the pain…

...she needs her family.

She projects her pain and worry through her head, at her siblings; an emotional cry for help at whoever might be near.

@Legion

They wandered, most days--and most days were spent in Cetus, searching out bits of food for Mother. The swarm carried those microscopic pieces back, and though Legion as a whole worked almost nonstop, they often felt disheartened. What the swarm could carry back in a day was nothing: hours spent bringing tiny pieces were often dwarfed by a larger Gembound's single kill.

Today they were ranging farther, hoping to find Lessers to infect, Greaters to recruit, or perhaps something unusual, unknown; something that might be useful for Mother. To their dismay they realized they were drawing close to another Gembound: someone else already in Eridanus, perhaps also outperforming the legion of tiny mites.

They avoided it, at first, but then came the cry for help, ringing pained and discordant along their shared mental link. Disappointment forgotten, alarm screaming through the swarm, they changed course.

The buzzing of the flies near Daughter would seem to grow louder, perhaps, before it became clear that the sound was coming from another direction--pointed, focused. And then the brown-gray cloud, vaguely-shaped like a quadrupedal, winged Gembound and flashing with teal lights, swept in and settled. Reassurance--

I'm coming, I'm here, I'll help--coursed in with it, along their shared thoughts.

The swarm hesitated mid-air, the myriad mites peering over Daughter. Burnt--burnt by magic? A glance around found nothing else, bar fear radiating to Legion's swarm along that link.

They coalesced, that strange cloud of bugs shaping themselves more densely, more clearly, each individual mite taking its place and going more still.

"Are you okay?" The question was a hesitant buzz, humming, concern flickering through their link. They had no magic to help, but perhaps they could reassure-?

The swarm reached out, pressing reassurance, comfort, through their shared link--trying to share that pain, to offer kind thoughts to the fox, instead.

They weren't sure what else to do.

"What happened?" and then, inspiration striking, "Do we need to bring you to Mother?"

If the child was harmed badly enough, surely someone else in the Hive could aid? Legion cast their mind out, tentatively asking.

@Daughter

Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

A sense of alarm from another sibling makes itself known in Daughter’s head in response to her cry for help, like a ripple in a pond reacting to a thrown stone; and then comes a distant buzz, one that seems like the sound of the few flies following the ink-black rotting slush still dripping from her teeth, but quickly grows louder, more distinct, and she is relieved. A sibling is here; a family member, one who can help… she curls into herself, tail sweeping around her intact shoulder, and looks up at the swarm.

She knows this one from their link, but has never seen them with her own eyes before; this sibling is many-as-one, their thoughts seeming to buzz like their wings do—Legion, she recalls, although names don’t matter too much under Mother, only presences in their family.

It’s fascinating to watch them—their many forms shift and coalesce, a thousand humming wings becoming one coherent thing, and it’s almost enough to distract from the fresh burn along her shoulder despite the hot pain curling and lingering in her skin.

’Are you okay?’ they ask, and Daughter tilts her head to look at the wound, robin-egg blue eyes trailing over singed fur and burnt, now exposed skin, wincing as the movement pulls at the wound ever so slightly. ...don’t know. It hurts…

She thinks walking will hurt, like this, the way the burn is placed on her shoulder… it hurts, but she doesn’t know how badly.

And then… it doesn’t, at least a bit less—reassurance flows into her head like a healing stream, and she meets it with a silent gratitude; an unspoken ‘thank you for soothing the pain’, tinged with love, like she loves all her family.

My magic… went wrong. I lost control, she thinks, pushing forward the memory of her magic exploding with percussive, fiery force into her fur, of that rush of uncontrolled magicka just before she hurt herself accidentally, tinged with her own feeling of disappointment; how can she aid Mother if she's injured?

Mother… can help, yes, she helps everything; but how badly is she injured, really? She can’t tell from looking at the injury alone.

She uncurls herself from her sitting position before her sibling and pushes herself upwards ever-so-tentatively, mind still focused on the weak pulse of pain that still remains despite Legion’s aid. As she puts weight on the injured limb, it aches more fiercely with pain—there’s a tremble in her step as she moves forward. She can walk, she thinks, and run if she has to push herself; a part of her regrets not staying at home, in Cetus with Mother.

She pushes the bulk of this thought process at Legion; the wound impairs her a bit, and yes, she’d like help—are there any siblings nearby that can help? Does Legion know anything that can help?

She follows the thread of Legion’s mind as they ask for anyone else in the area and hopes someone will answer.

@Legion

The pain, shared, was severe; Legion was startled, a ripple passing through the swarm, at the sense of burning. Daughter's sharp recollection of the burn, too, left Legion taken aback. It was... unpleasant. The mites shifted, hovered a little, myriad glinting eyes peering at Daughter's wound.

"We don't know of anyone close," they said aloud, combined voice humming, after a moment of internal consultation. None of the mites could think of anyone near. But--and for another instant the many minds networked, and it was like the Hive's thoughts, but a thousand times faster. If Daughter paid attention, it would be surprisingly swift and cohesive--to Legion, Mother's links were a slow, inefficient version of their own. 

Worry flickered through them, another ripple, wings shifting. It looked painful. It still felt painful, along the link. How bad was it, really..? They couldn't tell, either; they had little experience in such things. They reached a consensus after brief thought, and the mites looked to Daughter's wound again.

"...We think--water may help," they suggested. The swarm turned, lifting off in an uneven hum, their cloud sweeping through the trees. They swirled around this trunk and those ferns, and were back mere moments later. "We think we hear water this way--unless you know of any closer?"

With every sentence, the mental meaning of the words swept up alongside them, providing coherence to the sounds. Legion was unsure how much Daughter would comprehend, without the link; and their link was not something they could close. Not that they would want to. But they spoke aloud, and let Mother's link explain any missing details, through the intent of the mites' own minds.

@Daughter

Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

They are many, they are many—for a moment, Daughter is distracted from the pain by the hum of her siblings’ thoughts. She can’t keep track of the way they think; one thread of a thought leads into another and another and another until it all blurs into the same thing. She can’t keep up—but she wishes she could.

Mother’s link is wonderful and blissful and the best thing in the whole caves; but, oh, if their family was linked like that…

And then her siblings speak, and Daughter focuses on the present, for the moment. Water… sweet, cool water. Yes, she thinks that’ll help, too; she senses their thoughts become searching as they buzz away and come back all in the span of a few moments.

She tilts her head, searching through the memories provided by Mother’s link, automatically pushing the thread of her thoughts towards her siblings—no, she can’t think of anything closer. That’ll work; thank you.

And the hum of knowledge behind each of their words, the intent that fills in any words she might not know—that, too, makes her grateful. She learns so much from her family…

...she glances back at her burnt shoulder and makes a noise of discontent. This’ll hurt to walk on…

...well, Legion is still sharing the pain, and she is eternally grateful for that, for their help and reassurance and love, and she reasons that she can make it, so there’s no reason to worry.

She takes a step closer towards her siblings and tenses at the burning ache that spreads towards that limb, eyes narrowing as she focuses on not stumbling or falling over. Ow—now she’s even more grateful for the way Legion is numbing the pain, sharing it, spreading it between them.

At least she can walk, even if it hurts.

I… She has to pause to grasp the word she’s looking for from her family’s memories. I’ll follow you.

@Legion

Legion went slowly.

They knew that it would hurt; hell, they could feel it hurting, and every member of the swarm winced at the pain, in suffering and sympathy both. Sympathy, moreso, for there was only so much they could offer, comfort-wise, along the link they all shared.

The swarm led, then, a low hazy cloud shaped vaguely like a Gembound, with its large eyes, its wings; it seemed to be padding along the trail but not quite touching earth, as if its feet were hovering just a little.

Ahead, there was indeed water: a little brook, gurgling over the rocks, fresh and clear. "This will help?" the hive asked aloud, in a thousand buzzing voices, and asked too in Daughter's mind. Concern was there, hope, fear for her safety; Legion was earnest, with no ulterior motive to them.

The swarm came to the water's edge, but no closer. Perhaps the little bugs would drown; or perhaps they had no reason to enter the water, just now. "We wish that we could help you more," they all hummed, sadly.

@Daughter

Daughter
the voice in my head was no longer my own.

Daughter follows her siblings, grateful for their slow pace; although she can walk, every step tugs and burns, eliciting a soft stream of sympathy from her sibling, comfort like the faint, faint air of movement brushing against her burn. She follows the billowing shape of their swarm through the trail, eyes tracing curiously over the loose shape of a whole Gembound they take as they lead her down the path. How miraculous they are, she thinks—like the web of their family, but in miniature.

Sharp fox ears hear the water before they come across it; the liquid of a sweet, cool brook slipping over rocks gets her ears to perk up and her thoughts to focus on it and it alone. The sound is heart-lifting, and Daughter is sorely tempted to run ahead—stopping only because if this is how much it hurts when she’s simply walking, she doesn’t want her or her siblings to learn how much it hurts when she tries to run.

They get there in time, anyways, the plants giving way to the sight of a brook, small compared to her siblings, but quite a decent size compared to how small she is. This will help, Daughter replies, looking down at the water, the mix of concern, hope, and fear emanating from Legion eliciting a soft feeling of love and comfort in response from her.

It’s okay, she says, absentmindedly pawing at the water to test it in a childish instinct in the back of her mind.

You’re helping… she thinks, and here Daughter’s thoughts trail off as she gently moves to all but sit in the water, muzzle dipping into the brook as she splashes the cool liquid across her burn. Oh—the chill of it is a relief, really, cooling the heat of the burn and soothing the pain.

...very much, she finishes, more love for her siblings and their aid radiating from the little fox. This is much better—she lowers her head to dip her muzzle into the water again, seeking more of the relief brought by it.

@Legion

The swarm hovered, worse than an overprotective parent, as the young fox stepped into the water. They hummed, and buzzed, worried and hopeful and afraid all at once--and grateful; grateful for the warmth, and gratitude in turn, the reassurance, sweeping toward him along their link.

Joy, then; joy at her own warmth, but still there was that fear.

Would she recover-? Was the pain-... ahh, the pain was better. Relief flickered through them, as well, like a wind across grass, the ripple in the hazy cloud actually visible.

Legion turned, lifting up and having a brief look around, for danger; spying nothing they flitted back down again, the soft hum of their swarm slowly fading as first one, and then another, and then all the mites began to gently alight on the banks of the brook--a foot or two up, where it was safe and drier than it was near the lapping water's edge.

The swarm turned to face Daughter, watching her. Oh, it could simply delve into her mind; there was no real need for conversation between Hive-mates, and indeed, Legion had found that they often lay in utter silence, open to one another and silently complacent. But there was something about the sudden excitement, the bright warmth of the day, the gentle gurgle of the brook, that left in them a feeling of contentment and sociability. 

The queen lifted onto her two hind pairs of legs, using her first two to groom her antennae, miniscule eyes watching Daughter closely--as were most of those of the rest of the Hive. The buzzing voice came with consensus: hers, theirs, combined in a hum.

"You were practicing magic, then?" they asked, carefully. They'd seen a little, before, in her memories; but they felt like small talk, now. Like speaking with another living being, for once, rather than the chilly silence that Mother's warm connection somehow seemed to engender.

@Daughter

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