ORIGIN

Orion was where Ashtoreth went when she wanted to remind herself that things were different now. The mustelid's fur was still thin on her front legs, but her feathers were stained a brilliant dusty orange from Canis's floors, and her lithe body was filled out from real food that her body had finally stopped rejecting. She walked with a calm grace through the graveyard of her own memories, not a ghost, but a living, breathing creature.

How many nightmares had she had of this place? The crumbling walls were charred with an fire still recent enough to make the stone smell like old smoke, and stopped at the Throne, ears pricking curiously. Here was where she had made her first friends in youthful innocence, and though it once hurt to think about them, it brought her some peace to stand where she had once stood and remember them.

She could hear their voices; like distant whispers tugging at her heart, when she came here. This was where Hasira and his faithful had captured her, beaten and tortured her. Now they were gone, nothing more than dust in the wind. She had lived, and ever since... She had been struggling with what would come next. It had taken so long to unlearn everything that had been drilled into her head (and sometimes, she still slipped up--) but that had left her an empty shell. It had almost been easier to wish for death.

Still, the beauty of the caves was something simple that she could enjoy. Especially Orion... As much pain as it had brought her, she could still sit on the cool stone and lean her head back to stare up at the glistening ceiling.

This was where she had been shown what music was. Eos-- it had been cycles since she had seen him, too-- had been a light in the darkness of times, and in the still quiet of her solitude, she felt an urge to try and sing. She couldn't bellow out notes, only channel her emotions out into the world in the form of magic, and combined with her own uncertainty led to the stones underfoot vibrating softly without a particular note. Ear ears flattened and she twitched a wing, stretching out a foot to one side as she tried to hone down the sound to something she wanted.

It wasn't like she knew the first thing about making a song; Aza'zel had always known how to sing a smile on to her face. Eos, too. She could sing along if she was copying them, but... Making her own song? It was taking all of her concentration to even get a single unified note.

stars, she marveled: stars above, stars below, and stars within, alive and alight in eyes like silver saucers. such a simple word — monosyllabic, neither too soft nor too harsh, easy enough for the smallest neonate to grasp — and yet so beautiful, a flock of birds suspended around her, spinning and winking as the young accipiter passed them by. if only she could join them, forget all the yearning that weighed on her shoulders, leave the bones of her birthplace behind. that kind of ideation was futile, foolish. but what was the harm in enjoying their company?

yesterday's lessons — damask's very first flight — had taken a toll. every moving part of her ached, her chest most of all, from rib and muscle to tired lungs and the jasper between them. it felt at once empty and full. even as she soared slowly through the room, aerial stasis was enough to wear on her, and she strained at the effort of holding her wings straight at her sides; but the numbing euphoria of air in her feathers, of the wide open world around her, of freedom from canis made it worthwhile. she wouldn't think of the pain, nor the multicolored stresses that had borne it. she would focus only on orion.

her gaze sunk from the ceiling to the floor, scanning the strange geometry of rock and crystal that populated it. a city, damask knew in a sudden flash of unbidden inspiration. like the chambers, only plainly not natural; and also like the ruins at the mouth of the wind tunnel, but where those had been some sort of a wall or a door, this felt like the place that wreckage was meant to protect. someone lived here, once. many someones.

a high silhouette took shape in the distance, set against the wall with cliffs at its back. oh? pinions twisting, she angled towards it and alighted on a roof near its base, some eight feet above the floor; her landing was heavy, needed more work, but all things in time. the structure loomed over her as she stared roundly up at it. it was a sort of ... platform, almost an altar, with two short walls at its sides and a taller one behind. what if she went up there, got a better look? it'd afford excellent vantage to look on the cave. she lifted her wings for an appraising flap, only to wince and fold them back into place. maybe not. better to rest awhile first, and then — ah!

in that moment, a faint vibration drifted up through the roof, and she danced where she stood in a rapid piaffe, staring down in alarm. what — ? the stone was ... humming, very softly, its source down below. damask crept on all fours to the edge and propped herself up by the wing-claws to peer over the parapet.

a slender, winged figure sat on the floor, fussing at the ground as if to fine-tune its resonance. the fledgling tilted her head far to the left. were they trying to make ... music? it brought to mind the crystals around them, chiming and scintillating, an earthen variation on every song she had ever heard — missing lyrics, every one, but sweet all the same. wonder sparkled in dilating pupils as her ears perked up to listen.

maybe if she ... helped? would they mind that?

a sharp intake of breath, a flinty spark of her stone, and she took in her mouth what little of melody she herself knew: a soft, lilting blend of carollers' calling and the riffle of wind. damask's hesitance showed in the tune she fashioned, the way it wavered off base and cracked at intervals from note to note — but it layered smoothly with the bassy bedrock of sound underneath. some thirty seconds' song, and then she let it die in her throat. she shrunk slightly lower behind her cover, eyes riveted on the curious-looking creature below.

A sound came from above, and in a sudden motion, Ashtoreth bounced up to her feet, her spine arching and her wings spreading in alarm. She hadn't heard the child land neatly upon the roof, not until the creature made a soft sound with the air.

The little melody sounded like it had been brought up through the sounds of notes she had been trying to find, though they were twisted into a unique melody that felt painfully like what she had been searching for. A stab of jealous pierced her chest just before her dark gaze settled on the bright-eyed kid.

She knew that magic; it was her magic.

... Realization settled across her, painting her still with shock. The mask of black, the black speckled feathers, the tufts... There were some lammergeiers in the caves that were unrelated to the Vita family, but she had never seen a bearded vulture hybrid that wasn't family. This one looked like a few generations down, too... And, Aure had mentioned at least one name she didn't recognize when they met... This one seemed like it was still a child though.

The monochrome raptor shrunk down as the song died, squashing down so she could only see the big blue eyes staring down at her. Ashtoreth smoothed down her ruffled feathers, and flattened down on the floor until she was a pancake. She waited a moment, and when the kid didn't say anything-- how strange, how familiar-- she raised one wing in pantomime.

She inhaled a breath, feeling the air rush past the stone embedded in her throat, and the air surrounding her began to vibrate, causing her flight feathers to ruffle as the child's melody echoed back through the air. The notes were slower, but confident and clear. She lowered her wing, raising the other in alternation, and the low timbre from the stone echoed artificially, drumming along a harmony underneath the melody.

Who was this strange child? She had so many questions-- but in that instant, just then, they were talking in a language no one had ever really spoken to her in. It was like being brought back in time, back before her chest ached and her limbs crawled with scars. She didn't want to break the spell, not yet.

damask flinched back at the stranger's startled reaction, narrowing one eye in sheepish regret; but then, they looked up at her, and she could see them, and a shock of recognition came over her expression — exactly as the same came over theirs.

they had the features of her father, her grandfather, even her uncle: black-and-orange plumage, a royal mane about the neck, the trademark drip of whiskery black that she so woefully lacked. the rest of them was unfamiliar to her, with a mix of feather and fur, wings closer to their hips than their shoulders, and a puzzling sort of face she could only compare to that of a mouse. they commingled an amalgam of traits that shouldn't have worked in unison, and yet ... somehow, they did. unusual, yes, but striking for it.

like me, she realized. or — or eythan. and, subsequently: another vita. family.

the fledgling broke their stalemate with a blink, brows creased in a clash of interest and uncertainty. this was — exciting, but — she hadn't prepared for it, needed to make the best impression she could. any moment now they'd strike up conversation, and she'd have to swallow this knot of reluctance and do her fair share.

but no. here was the first acquaintance to greet her with silence, sparing her any obligation to speak.

instead, they smoothed their feathers and dropped to the floor, flattened liquidly on the stone. at this, she slowly began to rise back up and over the wall, leaning forward in piquing intrigue. up came a long, iron-stained wing, very deliberately, as if speaking a language she hadn't yet learned. after a heartbeat's loaded delay, she mirrored the movement, mystified and mesmerized.

a part of their lips, and — (that inhalation, that was exactly what she did!) — there it was, the self-same music, reflected back at her with all the clarity and confidence that her song had been missing. damask drew herself upright, stunned. another gesture of the wings, the first swapping places with the second; this, too she repeated with careful precision. then, at length, she tensed her legs and sprang onto the parapet. her tail flicked back and forth behind her as her head cocked to the opposite side, tucked against her chest to aim her sights on the curiosity below. she let the song float solo for a moment; tufted ears twitched and swiveled as they pulled each layer of music apart. finally she emptied and replenished the air in her lungs, calling back the spell she'd dismissed. let's give it another try.

with a nip of complaint from the knife that imbued it, her breath flowed out in another melody: this one smoother, more fluid than the last, but higher and quieter than the lead chorister's as it trailed a second's space behind. the result was a soprano echo that resounded in butterfly flutters of her jaw and her throat. she kept it alive, now, wide eyes bright as she awaited a reaction.

Each note, each careful, cautious movement was a mirror of Ashtoreth's own soul. It was as though the child was a piece of her that had been torn from her, birthed from her trauma. Fragments that she had abandoned here. There was the vicious undercurrent that wanted to take the child and reincorporate the black and white into her own body. The darkness in her was envious and furious, and the only way to quell the anger demanded: she needed to swallow it whole or destroy it; but she had long since learned to ignore the cruel and callous parts of her heart.

It helped that it was so easy to ignore when she sang along with the youngin', who's precious notes came from the air and their pearly, soft throat. She reached up on to her tip toes, claws flexing into the stone for balance, swaying with the sounds as they danced around both of them. She raised both wings now, and began to dip and dive her feathers in swishing, waving motions like a conductor directing a choir.

As the song crescendoed with their shared confidence, she wriggled down with a bunching of her leg muscles. She sprang into the air, willing the wind to rush up under her wings, but her head was still in the song, and nothing came under wing. She started to fall before she even got close to the ledge, and with a wheeze she started to flap furiously.

It took a bit of effort-- and her half of the song promptly died as she twisted and scrambled, finally getting one paw up on the edge. She kicked with her back feet and managed to flip hindquarters first over the precipice. She landed with a muffled thump on her feathery backside (with another wheeze), and hastily scrambled up on to her feet with a bounce.

Ashtoreth beamed a toothy grin at the child, shaking out her feathered mane. She reached her nose forward, ears pricked toward the child in eager greeting.

the melody fluted in damask's mouth with twittering curiosity, given grace by her magic and courage by the leading singer. it wasn't entirely her composition, she knew, more a medley she had sampled and remixed from the birds she hunted and the whistling woodwinds of hallway airstreams; but they like it, and she felt a nervous tremor of pride in her chest.

down on the floor, her companion reared up and rested their forepaws on the wall. what're they — ? the young bird of prey leaned down to watch, tail held back for counterweight. what followed was a strange ritual of gesture and music: a sway of weight from side to side, a flow of movements that painted the tempo in spellbinding synch. should ... should i be doing that too? a visceral swell of discomfort bloomed at the thought. no, no. better not. but she could still admire from afar. her vocals leapt in pitch and volume, and the song arrived at its peak, weaving like smoke.

then, they huddled into a pouncing position and jumped. a jolt and a hush came over damask's half of the melody as she watched them flail their way up in a flurry of feathers, flapping and wheezing and grappling for purchase. the sheer ferocity of the endeavor dispelled any thought of trying to help; and all things considered, the elder vita was doing ... very well for themself, actually. those wings plainly weren't made for unaided flight — they were set too far back, nowhere near a center of gravity — but they beat at the air with all the fury in the world. a paw caught hold of the parapet, and the rest of them followed, tumbling upside-down to the roof. somewhere in the midst of the scuffle, their singing came to an abrupt halt, and hers did in kind.

as the newcomer began to collect themself, damask hopped down from her perch and hovered a ways aside. up close, she found their stature level with hers, her equal, and this she welcomed with pleasant surprise. here, a grinning flash of sharp white teeth, and with it a second wave of dawning realization. auré had told her bits and pieces about her family: just a handful of traits apiece, no physical descriptors, with chiding assurance that you'll get to know them! — and that made it a puzzle, one that she'd struggled to solve until now. the creature before her had seemed almost ... forlorn, at first, but more and more she saw a trickster's spirit in that bandit face. mute, check. mischievous, check. maybe sort of a little like eythan — check.

eyes wide, brows lifted, damask reached down toward their nose. a musky tang greeted her approach, but it registered without recoil or distaste; scent was her weakest sense. bright silver eyes met eager ones of coppery brown, and she lingered a few inches short of contact. a blink, and then she prodded at her stone for another favor: a gust of wind to soothe their wheezing and brush the dust from their coat — but after so much exertion, this was too much to ask, and she withdrew, turning her head to bark out a cough. her ribs tightened around pressured lungs and biting jasper edges. she found herself panting and clamped her jaws shut, puffing shallowly in and out through her nose.

a little dizzily, she returned to her companion and mustered a thin smile. don't, said a pleading part of her, but she recognized that certain things were communicable only by words — and she was already beginning to trust this one, besides.

"i'm damask. damask vita." her voice was breathless, tentative. "are you — ashtoreth?"

Ashtoreth tilted her head, raising a paw gingerly with concern as the child coughed... But the young raptor seemed to recover alright, and so she set the paw back down on the ledge, tilting her head the other way with a twitch of her nose.

She was surprised when the child spoke (and, once more, the magic broken) but now she had a name: Damask. And confirmation, a Vita. She had been quite confident, but now they both knew. Her mild surprise flared into astonishment as Damask plucked her name straight out of thin air-- the kid already knew about her?

... The winged mustelid tucked her nose down into her chest in an absentminded nod, the quills of her feathers prickling with unease. Who had been talking about her? What had been said? She couldn't begin to shake the anxiety that swelled up around her feet like tar, pinning her down like chains. This was her family; a cousin of some sort, perhaps, and though at first she had been having fun playing with the kid, she was faced with the daunting task of impressing the newest addition to the family. Despite reassurance after reassurance from her family that she was loved, there was always a nagging doubt that somehow it was all fake. That everyone only pretended to put up with her, and even now, that paranoia crept up around her.

She tried to not let those emotions show, blinking back the haze in her eyes and shoving her chin back up. Flashing another pearly white grin, she inhaled through her nose and willed her magic to answer. Apparently she breathed wrong, because immediately her throat tickled with inhaled saliva, and she began to cough and sputter. Ears burning with embarrassment, she raised her paws to cover her muzzle, hacking and wheezing until she caught her breath.

Ashtoreth swear she could hear something whispering on the breeze, though it was only in her mind, as she fought for breath. my broken little star. It made her stop all together but for a moment, breath hitched in her throat, her lungs straining with the need to keep coughing. She didn't let it out, did she? Copper eyes flashed to stare, wide with panic, at the child.

Damask didn't need to know about that. She was-- she was--...

Okay, breathe. Ash inhaled, letting out another stammering cough, and shook her head slowly, easing back on to her haunches. It was fine. She slowly set down her paws (hoping, very much, that the little one didn't notice the way she was trembling,) and squished her cheeks up into her eyes in an embarrassed, warm smile of a grimace.

so this was ashtoreth. damask might have allowed herself a small moment of celebration at getting it right, but there was something a little ... off about that nod, the singularity and sobriety of it, the accompaniment of restless, ruffling feathers. less like the playful energy of their song together, more like the tuneless hum she had felt through the stone. it was subtle — another child would've missed it — but she swore she saw it. the smile that came next was ever-so-slightly strained, not so warm and easy as the first. what did i do? a furrow developed between her eyes as a second cough tickled the back of her mouth. she tamped it down with limited success, forcing out a soft huff instead.

it might have been because she'd broken the spell of silence, but — no, remember the timing. it's the name. they — ah, she, auré used she ... she's surprised i know it. not just surprised. something else. here, a knot disentangled deep in her head. what would she think if a stranger knew things about her? ... i made a mistake. in asking directly, she'd hoped to avoid obligating a verbal response, but when she put herself in that position ... she could almost feel her skin crawling, the exact agitation of a trespassing touch. damask had overstepped.

she opened her mouth, torn; but without warning, ashtoreth burst into a violent hacking fit. at the sight of her scrambling to cover her face and regain composure, the fledgling blinked in alarm.

all right, be cool, make a plan. you've had this kind of spell, too — both kinds. what would you want you to do?

step one. she ducked her head away and backed up a few steps, granting space for ashtoreth to breathe. (here, a couple coughs of her own shot out, permitted leave while no one was looking.) after a moment's hesitation, she turned to face the precipice and stepped towards it, as though suddenly intent on inspecting the strange stone structure beyond. she pretended to marvel, eyes and ears avoiding the struggle behind her.

step two. as the wheezing finally drew to a close, damask glanced over her shoulder. seeing the shaky, almost plasticky smile on her companion's face, she was abruptly aware of the tightness in her chest. stop. it's not about you now. right, no pain, forget about that. she did not ask if ashtoreth was okay, nor did she ask anything at all, though apologetic anxiety tugged gently at her features.

step three. she drew a slightly hoarse, crackling breath into her mouth. her words rattled off trimly and rapidly, rushing to convey as much as they could in a brief span of time. "my father, auré. he told me who to look out for: giggle, serek, vinea, kerberos, you. names, relations, and two, three — a-a-adjectives each." speaking too fast, you idiot. damask couldn't restrain a soft hiss at herself, panting, cringing hard; but it lasted only a second, and then she'd shaken it off to inhale and force her way (more slowly now) to the finish line. "he seemed to like you very much. wishes he knew you better. that's all i know."

and, finally ... she waved her muzzle from ashtoreth to the parapet, inviting her over. something else to look at, not so head-on. tidying away all that she'd said with little space for reply, she added conspiratorially: "your music was beautiful."

Ashtoreth blinked. She had looked up, only to find that Damask had already looked away, stepping up to stare over the ledge. It gave her space to breathe, and also for a moment felt like the thin bond between them had been severed.

They met eyes, and electricity ran down her limbs, claws flexing subconsciously into the ground. Maybe she should try to say something again, try to chase away the horrible awkward silence that stretched between them. It was her fault for breaking the conversation, and it absolutely was not fair to put that weight on the child.

Damask started speaking before she could even raise her wings, though, rambling in a quick, hasty way that tried to sweep everything under the bridge. The winged mustelid dipped her nose with acknowledgement, and even smiled a little more sincerely (it softened at the edges) when Damask stuttered. She was trying so hard.

... Aure wanted to know her better? Ash felt a twinge of guilt; she wasn't the most social butterfly. She rarely had the energy to seek out others, much less the ambition or want. She adored her brother, he was probably one of the few gembounds she could goof off with without feeling bitter about it. He was the reason she had actually come home.

Aaaand she hadn't really spent any time with him. It nagged at her, but she shoved the thought down as Damask invited her over with a wave of her nose. Eagerly, she scrambled up beside Damask, and in a spur of the moment gesture of... Of, trying to be close and affectionate (how performatory,) she rubbed her shoulder up against Damask's side. A second later she shot a glance toward the child, realizing she might have pushed a boundary she shouldn't have-- but then again, she was the weird one with touch issues, Damask probably didn't even know such a thing could exist and she was worrying way too much, still.

The compliment hit her like a tonne of bricks. Ashtoreth's blinking continued, stunned as she scrambled over the words. Immediately her mind tried to rational and downplay the comment.

The air around her feathered form rose, a gentle swelling as words came into being: a soft, raspy voice that she had spent a long time finding and making her own. "... It wasn't just my song," the words came quietly, spinning about them as though they didn't quite come from Ashtoreth. "I've never written a single note... You helped make it come to life." The ease at which it came surprised her, and her mouth opened to wheeze a silent laugh.

"-- It was pretty, huh? Thanks, Dammy." Ashtoreth's eyes gleamed, and she raised her chin, "Okay, fair warning. Don't get used to hearing all this. Takes way too much concentration." She settled back, reaching a hind paw up to scratch under her chin while the air hummed with artificial words. "... But while I got this going, if you ever want to just hang out and... Chill, maybe make music or something, I don't mind. It'd be nice to have... Quiet company." ... Nice to have someone that didn't feel like they needed to talk to have a conversation.

It felt like Damask could understand what she meant by that. No one-sided stuff, like so many other gems gave her (and part of why socializing was completely exhausting), but mutual and intentional silence.

damask hadn't entirely expected her approach to work. certainly it would have been best for her: clean and efficient, avoidant yet attentive, addressing the problem and clearing it away; but it wouldn't have satisfied auré, nor anyone like him. he would have needed touch, affection, sympathy. and yet, something told her that ashtoreth was more similar to herself — and to eythan, as her father had told her. not the same, certainly, but ... more on their end of the spectrum. as such, it was with a great mental sigh of relief that she met her companion's enthusiastic rush to her side — right up until the moment she brushed against her. don't flinch. don't flinch. instead the fledgling stiffened and held herself still with a tiny shiver of physicality. the contact was mercifully brief, though, and when ashtoreth looked her way as if to ask for approval, she smiled tightly. a roll of her shoulders to drive away the tension, and then she'd relaxed, the whole thing over in the time it took to blink once.

... why do you do that, anyway?

but her compliment hit its mark, and to damask's wide-eyed wonder, the air beside her seemed to coalesce, forming itself into quiet words that bounced around them like echoes in a chamber. at ashtoreth's deflection, she dropped her gaze and shuffled her feet, equally unwilling to accept any accolades. then, a concession. "it was pretty, huh? thanks, dammy." damask's eyes snapped back up, ears perked as surprise — (dammy? what?) — and puzzlement — (nobody's ever ...) — and finally a gradual softening came over her features. the nickname would've bothered her from almost anyone else, but from ashtoreth, it was almost ... cool, like a teasing punch in the arm. her lips rose on one side in a crooked, near-chuckling splinter of a grin. sure thing, ash.

next came a warning, a sort of disclaimer. to this she nodded: i understand. "... but while i got this going, if you ever want to just hang out and ... chill, maybe make music or something, i don't mind. it'd be nice to have ... quiet company."

a beat, and then her voice came soft and firm in decisive agreement, a pact made in a single word. "yes." her eyes drifted over the edge, not especially focused on any one point, but more in a sort of haze as she thought. ashtoreth would ask nothing more than she gave. damask had never felt any particular compulsion to see another soul again: her father was a matter of course, eythan was — complicated, and the rest were the rest. this was different. according to auré, ashtoreth was damask's half-aunt, but she felt ... closer, somehow, more like a sister.

at length she cleared her throat and said, "here. let me see if i can ..."

and then she made a mistake.

the moment damask reached for a spell, a vicious blossom of hurt hurt hurt seared in her chest in the flaring reds of blood and roses — all the aching she'd pushed away and ignored, demanding to be heard. a high, sharp gasp hissed through her teeth. the consequent swell of air drove her lungs against the razor jasper edges between them; every flutter as she tried to let it out was a stab at their walls. she bit back a cry of pain, took a shaky step back, jerked her head an inch to the left with eyes squeezed shut. steady! steady! a wing rose up, and she tucked her face into it, muffling the barking spasm that burst from her mouth. she peeked at ashtoreth in the corner of her vision, eyelids just barely cracked, the attack almost (but not quite) strong enough to stifle her mortification. the irony wasn't lost on her. hey now, kid, she just had this happen too, it's fine, she thought through gritted teeth; but a voice at her core — at her stone — told her this was different. it had happened before. it would happen again, and again, and again.

"i'm sorry, it's my —" gasping for breath and swaying on her feet, damask lifted a trembling set of claws to tap at her breast. "i just need a — a second, and i'll — be all right." she turned on her heels and paced, jaws ajar, feathers hackling, tail lashing as she struggled to get her airways flowing. frustration was beginning to bubble its way up through the pain. "you said — you'd never ... — is there any other way i could — help? without magic — ?"