ORIGIN

damask's face brightened by degrees as her grandmother inspected her handiwork. a broad paw rose to test the barrier, and it swirled around the contact, pushing back in equal measure. the fledgling couldn't say exactly how much pressure her shield could withstand. she'd only been able to test it herself, and, well. clearly she wasn't capable of applying much force. here, though, here was the perfect opportunity to see how far she could go. "it's protection — ! that seems useful, very useful." damask nodded rapidly, a tentative half-smile tugging at her lips. oh, wow, i actually ... did something right, for once. so much so that the hyena pondered the idea of damask teaching it to her — as if she, giggle, redoubted seer and matriarch, had anything to gain from her kid granddaughter. is she serious? she can't be serious. damask quirked her head to the right, left eye screwed in a conservative maybe.

but she sobered when giggle went on: "my magic ... most of it was developed after i was attacked, really attacked." something dark loomed below the surface of that sea; damask's eyes flicked furtively over the scars on the hyena's snout. and "mind-magic," "too serious for sparring," that was — ... she wasn't sure she liked that. be careful, kid. nothing to worry about, though, right? giggle was on her side, after all, and —

oh, those are some very big teeth.

damask stared as they worried at the windshield. massive jaws resounded with power, armed with daggers and stretched altogether too wide. she'd never seen a mouth like that, hadn't even known they came in that shape, and the barrier wavered slightly in daunted distraction — hyenid canines rippling in points. her spell held fast, but only just. the young accipiter found herself tensing: head low, leaning forward, one fleet foot poised behind the other. giggle drew back, ready to lunge. silver eyes widened around contracting pupils.

"brace! focus," and those teeth were headed her way.

okay, okay! evasive maneuvers! thinking a mile a minute, damask spun the wheel hard. the barrier vanished seconds before impact, gone up in smoke; she'd steered her magic elsewhere. in its place, a strong burst of wind came to life at her heels, and she darted away on the diagonal, speed doubled by the spell. thin air whisked in her wake with a clatter of pebbles and earth — the assault averted long before its arrival.

she pivoted to face giggle from behind, breathing heavy: not from exertion, as it appeared, but rather a vestigial pulse of panic. "sorry," damask panted, and again, "i'm sorry." you should be. you spooked. how are you supposed to train with her if you're just going to break? "it wouldn't have stopped that charge. i can do better. a moment, please, i — i'll try again." she clamped her jaws shut and swallowed, fighting to steady herself. her heartbeat trembled aloud in her ears.

damask gathered herself, a final sigh huffing out through her nose; the rest were inaudible and nigh invisible, nothing more than soft, shallow breathing and the in-and-out of her nostrils. the praise helped. that was kind of a smart move, wasn't it? she hadn't lied: her cast had been too weak for the strength of giggle's onslaught, and in a real fight, she would've taken serious damage if she hadn't stepped aside. she'd thought fast, made the right choice, executed it cleanly. but the dodge wasn't the issue. her panic was.

you shouldn't have apologized, shouldn't have stuttered, shouldn't have belittled yourself — should have taken a minute to pull yourself together and talked only then — and most of all, you shouldn't have needed to. giggle had nothing but good intentions; she was only trying to help her learn. so why had damask overreacted?

there was no point in hoping her grandmother hadn't seen it. she'd overlooked every tell so far, but here damask's luck had run out. that much was clear when the hyena turned and looked at her, grave intensity in her voice, her expression.

"nobody's hurt you, have they, damask? or told you that i would?"

giggle had missed the mark, but she'd caught onto a problem nonetheless. uncertainty flitted briefly over the fledgling as she raced to conjure up the best response she could. what she wanted most was a drop of the subject or a shortly said no, but those wouldn't fly. explain it to her, then? to explain it to herself almost made her cringe. here it was, the real reason why: damask had seen a skull in those exposed teeth. aza'zel's bones staring back at her. death itself coming for hers. and ... there was this thing lurking inside of her, intangible, almighty. she couldn't say what it was or where it came from, nor did she want to. even to think of it was a risk she couldn't take. that was the honest truth. telling it was not an option.

she arranged her features into cool composure, meeting the seer's dark gaze: the binary answer evident in the calm of her face, the slow-burn sear in her eyes. her voice came quickly, evenly, and levelly, as if a teacher had asked her to justify a math equation she knew by rote. "this is the closest i've ever come to combat. i'm up for it; my nerves are still getting there."

she concentrated on her stone as she finished, knitting her brow, leaving no space for reply. back to business; they'd leave it at that. the windshield took shape once more, stronger now, its fortitude bolstered with resolve. giggle's face swam back and forth behind it, and damask let hers harden, its subtleties safely hidden. "i have it under control," she said — both of her magic and her panic. "again."

damask had hoped for giggle to buy her excuse and move on; she'd expected her to briefly press the issue, then resume training. what she had not accounted for was ... total silence. minutes of it. this was more than a thoughtful pause or even the protracted delay that had worried her earlier: it was a lapse of real tension, as though muted and frozen in the midst of the action. she was far from uncomfortable with quietude — if anything, she preferred it — but coming from her long-winded grandmother, this was outright unnatural. desperation danced around her as she searched for a clue, but the barrier worked both ways; she couldn't discern any change at all until the hyena sat down. whatever was coming, it wasn't the test damask had requested. yet again, she had slipped up. was the mistake that bad, or did i switch subjects too fast, or what? come on, what did i do?

then, the seer spoke, and somehow, she hit the bullseye.

how is she — ? damask's eyes widened slowly in dismay. with every sentence, her mouth, wings, and shoulders fell just slightly slacker. the windshield hid it, for a moment, but giggle was killing her focus. as the spell rippled gradually away, damask straightened up and picked her jaw off the floor — with effort. "control," her grandmother said in a preface that sounded very like a warning. that's it. that word. that's where you blew it. "there'll always be times shit — sorry, stuff — gets out of control." tufted ears flicked at the unfamiliar expletive, surmising its strength; but it was giggle's worldview that stuck. damask followed her up to a point. certain forces (most) lay outside her sphere of influence, and there her role was limited to rolling with the punches that came her way. of course she couldn't orchestrate everything. she'd never presume to think otherwise. but here, giggle lost her: "experience comes with mistakes. we learn what's right by messing up. nobody's perfect, and nobody ever will be."

it only got worse from there. the encouragement, the excessive praise, that emphasis on honesty again ... it was too on the nose. something about it struck her as terribly uncanny, itself insincere, despite the warmth ever-lingering in her grandmother's face. suspicion narrowed her eyes to a slight, marginal squint. in smaller, subtler doses, damask might've accepted that sweet-tasting medicine, but a spoonful this size offered all at once? she didn't trust it. this isn't right. what does she want from me? her instincts urged her to take a step back, coil up like a snake. it was all she could do to dismiss them, along with the misgivings her features suggested.

"we can't help one another if we don't know what's wrong, right?"

she's telling the truth, you know. but will you ask for help — charity — or can you make it on your own?

damask aimed a nod at the floor. it took a beat to compose a response, but the pause was a reasonable one, albeit very loaded. "nobody's perfect," the fledgling repeated, and dragged in a deep breath. a strain of hoarseness sidled its way into her voice, a break here, a crackle there. she hoped against hope it was from overuse and nothing else — or at least sounded that way. "that's a wall too great to summit; i'm aware. but i'd like to climb as high as i can. control is how i get there. self-control." she raised her eyes to the hyena's. this was the hardest part to sell, and she sold hard, head low and brows lifted to affix an imploring look. "i know i can trust you — for help, advice, release. if i need you, i'll find you." you're lying through your teeth, a part of her said, but the other was louder: please please please, giggle, just let up and get off my back. "promise."

"being the best you can be isn't a bad goal, not at all." sale closed. damask exhaled a lungful of air taken and held, breathing it out through her nose in a silent heave of relief. now keep it, giggle. no buts, no caveats, no disclaimers — "just be sure you're doing it for yourself."

that made her think. she bit her lip and broke eye contact once again, brow furrowed. am i? more than anything, she wanted to prove herself, but that was for herself — right? not anyone else? somehow they felt so tangled together. others' approval told her she'd gotten it right, and their ... everything else told her she'd gotten it wrong. wait, no, not told, implied. just a means of checking the temperature in ascertaining the weather at large. she'd admit to this, though: giggle was right about the other thing. she wasn't quite the same alone — a little looser, a little less careful, not so motivated to keep it together. work on that. bring those dimensions into alignment, and you'll be more in control when it counts. her eyes cleared and drew back to her grandmother's. "noted."

then: "now!" immediately the fledgling stood at attention, bolt upright, focused intensity written all over her. giggle's instructions were brusque and energetic, but far from severe; a commanding note of encouragement hung behind them. she's trying something different, damask realized, and already she was stepping eagerly into its thrall. anything but unasked advice and uncomfortable inquiries, all the roads to which they led, this thorny horrible thicket that was her head. this beat that by a mile. exactly what she needed: to quit thinking in circles, pull herself out of that hole, and throw herself into something worthwhile. and she wanted to be pushed, to be taken seriously and not handled with care, to be schooled as something more than a child. damask was game.

crisply, almost a salute: "on it!" she spun southeast, puffing her chest to rally the jasper inside, already casting her radar throughout the cave — only to stagger back with a hissing gasp of pain. every pulse within the room's walls throbbed in sanguine red before her — discordant drumbeats like heavy metal in her ears — and she whipped her head away with squinting, watering eyes, ears pinned trembling against her nape. oh, and here's the pièce de résistance! — her stone was beginning to nip with overuse. the ensuing edges on her lungs came out in shallow stopping-starting breaths.

oh nonono this is bad this is very very bad get it together kid GET IT TOGETHER —

fighting with all she had to speak without stuttering — "too ambitious." she returned to giggle, burning with mortification as she struggled to go on. her own speech was hard to hear over the barely-ebbing pump of myriad hearts in her head. "only approximating, but —" oh, that croak is definitely not just from talking too much. you gonna cry? "i estimate twenty to thirty rats, about fifty mice, two bat colonies, ah — small flock of carollers ... yes." do not apologize. do not. "hang on for me, please? i just need to reach more slowly, i'll have the numbers exactly in —"

her voice burst apart in a barking cough. at that, the pain lessened.

"... a second," damask finished, clearing her throat.

the aftershocks subsided in waves, each slightly weaker than the last. still, pressure lingered in damask's chest; tinnitus, her ears. the film in her eyes passed, but phosphenes blotched over in stars and patterns the color of bruises. she winced slightly as they haloed her grandmother's bewilderment. not the worst reaction she could've had, she conceded, but ... not great. she knows you screwed it up. who wouldn't?

giggle repeated a single word by way of inquiry. "ambitious?" yes, here a very tactful synonym for: careless, arrogant, and overeager. "i tried to take the whole room at once. triggered an overload," damask explained, a hush of weary embarrassment in her voice. the task she'd been given was more than doable, so long as she worked her way up to it. it was a simple spell, and she'd practiced it more times than she could count — excellent for such various purposes as finding prey, avoiding dubious company, locating loved ones ... and simply gaining knowledge. studying local species and their populations, for instance. quietly she confessed, "the guesses were from memory."

okay, let's get down to business. and this time, do it right.

she closed her eyes. another mustering breath, stirring gently at the core of jasper in her ribs, heart of her own fluttering against it in trepidation ... and — there it was: the thump-thump-thump of life. "got it," damask murmured, deep in sensory concentration. good. now, you know what to do. first, separate. silver eyes snapped open, shooting back and forth as tufted ears swiveled in synchrony. a tiny quiver here; a louder, steadier pulse and a strong arterial articulation there. she began to count in minute lip-shapes, rapidly and almost soundlessly, her arithmetic nigh-impossibly fast. next, go farther. her magic inched towards the bounds of canis — (keep going, keep going) — and her mouth continued to move, never missing a beat — until arriving at an abrupt stop, frozen in place. tunnel k. that's the last of them. report.

only a minute or two had passed. she blinked and turned back to the hyena. "all right. greaters: eythan is sleeping near a pool by the north wall. auré —" (auré.) "— has gone to his nest in the chambers. those are the only ones i recognize." her words came carefully and relatively slowly as she concealed the emotion around that second name, the simmer of anger it provoked. here, damask gathered speed, rattling off the numbers with computational efficiency. "four rat packs, sixteen individuals in total; fifty mice even; thirteen bats, just one colony, actually, roosting on stalactites; six carollers at the grove; ah!, and four tunnel runners have strayed inside for a fresh carcass, but they'll be leaving soon. plus bone moths, of course, but their blood is different — difficult to see unless i'm up close." now her throat was sore for sure. she cleared it once, twice. it didn't help. giggle was dragging more out of her than she could summon up without strain. she felt a pang for ashtoreth and the signing language they secretly shared.

a hint of uncertainty flitted over the fledgling's features. she hoped against hope that her grandmother's eyes hadn't glazed over, that giggle saw the effort and care put into the exercise — and above all, that she was impressed. "how did i do?"