ORIGIN

the slightest glow of a smile pinched at damask's eyes. you got it, kid. you're good. without sweetener, the praise hit that much closer to home. felt more genuine. as her magic fully withdrew, the tension in her chest loosened, but lingered, orbiting around her smarting stone. still a few more spells in there, but not without risk. don't take chances, not today. she's got enough ammo against you without an attack. damask lowered herself to the floor with a sigh.

cue the review. "and that's what you've got, yes?" ... put like that, it seemed like so little. not all i've got, she bit back in protest: she worked with sound, too, and this second new spell — that was another beast altogether. she did not intend to limit herself; she'd pave her path to excellence with invention and experimentation, learning all the time. but the fledgling dipped her head in assent. more or less, yes.

the hyena segued now into recollection of days gone by — aza'zel's rule. order, structure, hierarchy. a set of claws tapped at the floor as damask listened, sharply intent. the impression she'd gathered of the bonebound was decidedly loose. her father — ... auré was king, of course, and giggle held a certain authority as well, but she wasn't sure of where anyone else stood. scrap that: she wasn't even sure of who else there was. those two, and then eythan and ashtoreth, both of whom she'd met ... serek, vinea, kerberos, but she'd never seen any sign of them ... is that really everyone? just how much has he not told me? — focus! — right, okay, tasks and positions. very cool, actually, but where is she going with this?

right here: "is there any role you'd like to play?"

ah. damask's talons pulled beneath her with a soft scratch, curled tightly. the question was pragmatic, and yet somehow it dug back to that place she had been so eager to leave. she hadn't not thought about it, this thing her grandmother asked of her; but when she approached it, she stopped somewhere short, leaving it at basic skills — the ones giggle was naming, in titular form — and no further. they all interested her. she'd be happy to help in any one of those ways. however, none of them invoked a real spark. she didn't know what would. for an instant, vulnerability showed in the width of her eyes, the wavering line of her lip. again, "is there something you'd want to do?" in her head, the answer was yes and no. something, nothing, anything. whatever you'd want me to. i can be whoever i have to be. just say the word. but she swept that answer away, along with the emotion in her face.

"to be determined." this she delivered with something that resembled a very small chuckle. "maybe that's a conversation i'd better have with — ... him. it's worth thinking about. thank you for asking." that last sentence broke into pieces. damask cleared her throat in a faintly uncomfortable cough, albeit a genuine one; two more fluttered out in its wake. a good excuse for answering minimally, if reticence wasn't enough on its own. she collected herself with a shake of her feathers. "grandmother, how did you know what to do?" a sidestep, yes, but not an entirely duplicitous one. she couldn't imagine the masterful seer before her as a child — certainly not one in her circumstances. if not enlightening, giggle's story would at least be fascinating. the fledgling's eyes were expectant, frond-feathers flapping once again over her feet. softly she finished, "... who to be?"

damask settled in for a story, something to lose herself in — finally a shift of all this onus away from herself, a break — ... or not. okay, okay, she could still work with that. her shoulders rolled, trying to shrug away the tension, and she gave an uncertain nod: all right. there had to be a place for her, yeah? everybody had one. a calling that would make her heart sing. no rush, just like giggle said. plus, it hadn't been her only inquiry. maybe that would get a little more out of the old hyena, misdirect her into talking about herself instead. and for a moment, it did, but wait. wait. the fledgling stiffened. you chose a very bad question. giggle's answer was starting to sound more and more targeted. she did as she pleased, wasted no time worrying about others' expectations, aspired to nothing more than her authentic self; and damask admired the confidence that bespoke, immensely so, but — that way of life is for somebody who knows who they are and what they want. do you? do you even wish you did? or are you too afraid of the dark? her weight shifted from side to side as she began to fidget. there was that word again, honesty. she'd never been convincing enough to chase it away, and now it was hunting her instead. oh, your mask is slipping; oh, your mask is slipping ...

"i can tell you're nervous, but not why." because there's something wrong with you, kid, and you know it. "i don't know why you call auré 'him' and 'auré' instead of 'dad.'" because you trusted him and he lied to you, and even if you did deserve it, he doesn't get to be your dad right now. "is there a reason why you're so distant?" because what you are is a hot, horrible mess, and it's easier to tamp it all down than let it see the light of day.

that about right?

for just a few seconds, she bowed her head and shuttered her eyelids against giggle's judgment, the seer's final words awaiting an answer. with every palpitation came another smothering memory: captive air and amniotic fluid roiling around her unborn frame, jasper walls against bruised and bloodied feet, lungs pumping and brimming and collapsing in a feeling that would grow all too familiar; a savior's beak spilling her free at the exact moment she surrendered, because hard as she'd tried, her own chrysalis had bested her; aza'zel's eyesockets boring into hers until she settled inside, his body a cage around her consciousness; growls in her ears, knives at her throat, thin wavelengths of blood trailing up in her wake; the certainty of justice in her fall, cold and hard as the stone floor against her bones; and her first kill torn open beneath her, breast laid bare; tears and blood and snot mingling on her face, tender meat turning to vomit in her mouth, revenant gore dripping over her toes; the songbird's wings, eyes, heart no different from her own.

but there's something else —

all at once, damask was on her feet. she blinked over and over to clear away the last of the fog — nausea in her stomach, pressure in her ribs, chills lancing up and down her spine — but "do you wanna clam up again?," giggle had asked, and she was too exhausted with the nonstop needling to devise another half-true excuse. she told you to communicate. so give her what she wants.

"honestly? yes, i do. i am fine, giggle," and hard as she tried not to snap, her canines flashed on that word fine — her eyes alight with the fearful ferocity of a cornered animal. oh, no. that was too much. more blinking. i'm calm, look, i'm taking a breath, she insisted to herself, and it's cool!, which is how she managed to regain some semblance of composure. and yet it was all she could do to keep the strength in her shoulders, to stop them from sagging. i wanted so much for this to be good. — here's what she'll think when she looks at you now: cold. weak. neurotic. — it's in pieces now, i broke it apart. — ... out of control, impossible to like ... — stop! stop. if i could just get her to let up, maybe i could make it better? damask made herself steel and faced her grandmother, chest out, back straight. her voice was firm, but — earnest, imploring. softer than she'd hoped. "please respect this."

"you're not." i would be, if you would just quit poking and prodding like prey you pick apart. damask bristled, lips twitching with faltering courage. but she won't, you know. and look at that, here comes another lecture! brace yourself, kid!

"but yes, i will respect you by not prying. you know you can say that, right?"

...

that's — that's it? that easy? she's just going to let it go? her jaw hung ajar. that was allowed? she could do that? why hadn't giggle told her sooner? her grandmother was telling her it was okay to ... enforce her boundaries — straight up, head on, out loud. it had taken an overflow of frustration and enervation to muster that level of honesty, to break what had felt like an unspoken rule. with effort, the fledgling clamped her mouth shut. a trembling sigh, a rustle of her feathers, and she did her best to shake off what remained of her anxiety. so: waiting that long to step up and say it, would you call it more stupid, spineless, or a tie between the two? — shut up. — could've saved a whole lot of trouble if you'd figured it out. your embarrassment, her disappointment, the works. — i said, shut up.

another sigh, softly. it was easier to breathe without the seer's near-black gaze drilling into hers. "past time you check in with auré," she remarked — and despite the resurgence of anger that name again provoked, damask succumbed to a wave of heavy-eyed relief. their first meeting hadn't gone nearly so well as she'd hoped, and she would have liked to end on a lighter note, but ... (let's be real) she was exhausted. her head, chest, stomach ached in unison; likewise, her throat would still be sore tomorrow, burnt and sanded by far too many words. as giggle arrived at a question, the young accipiter inhaled and nodded — not in the affirmative, but more as if to ... psych herself up, bring her voice down from its previous tension and intensity.

"no, that's all right." her eyes climbed up to the hyena's, blinking away a rare film of fatigue. this next part was — too saccharine, a guess at what giggle wanted to hear — but ... not dishonest, and delivered in her natural, matter-of-fact inflection. "you're family, grandmother; of course i'll come and see you: hear your stories, show you my spells — just ... spend time together." here, she went low, a taciturn downturn betraying exactly what she meant. "thank you." for backing off. damask turned away, tail brushing along the floor before she found the energy to pick it up — only to look back at the sound of a brash, inquiring voice. one last thing. "any particular food you'd rather me have here?" a beat, and then: "... birds are good." with that, she jumped into flight.

her wings beat unevenly, exhaustion bringing out the inexperience for which she usually compensated in effort and attention; but a few flaps later, she'd swung herself level. the heart of canis awaited her on her course: a bluff. no auré. not today, not tomorrow, not — she stopped herself there with a shake of her head. just need space. some time away, to think this through. get out of this room and its bones. orion, that's the place. safely out of sight, she swerved around the chambers, to the southeast. tunnel k always put her nerves on edge, but that was long since spoken for now. her features darkened by degrees. eythan? for real? why wouldn't he tell me? is that what he thinks of me? liar. leaver. coward.

"honest communication," her grandmother had stressed. damask would remember it, if only for him.