ORIGIN

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Astraea spoke, and it listened - if only to get distracted by the thing racing up its arm and grasping blindly at its quills. The orthoclase growled sharply, though its voice was mostly lost in the uproar of murmurings and questions, immediately shifting weight back to lift a meaty paw to its mane and feel for the ape. It felt around, nearly missing the swinging body a few times - but eventually closed in a vice grip.

Giving a harsh squeeze (like one would when demonstrating to a dog that their new toy squeaks) it reeled its arm back. Away the poor Gremlin went, hurled like a fuzzy football, no quills in hand.

The kaiju growled balefully after it, but settled back into place, mane puffed up and tensing with all of the clamoring, voices merging together and the crowd growing... rowdy.

Astraea fought the urge to roll his eyes: It did not care—not about some backwater nest! Khloros, stubborn yet, parted after replying; and again, claimed ignorance, and Astraea's refusal to teach them. The deer snorted. Here he was, ready to teach them, then. Offering what he could to those that asked it of him. As he watched the horse leave the forum, his ears twitched to the sounds of others.

Fine. He'd leave Khloros be, for now.

The dragon that left bellowed out that its children would not be taken. As much as Astraea could tell them they could keep their spawn, it was ultimately not his decision. If the Hands wished to take—they would take. And dragons? Hardly intimidating to them.

The others had questions. He listened to them each in turn, nodding, collecting their requests and queries before choosing to answer them.

"Fissioning is the act of... splitting yourself," he started, thinking how best to explain it. "In the past, creatures were created with this in mind. With stronger magic. I'm unsure if you would be able to, but we will certainly try." They'd need to learn if they wanted to produce properly, anyway.

"Yes, I can teach you to read," he answered, looking down to his hooves and then to Giggle's paws. "But.. writing, we will have to figure out." A small smile, almost a laugh. Oh, how he hated being this disgusting animal.

"Lord Dhracia is... what you could consider a right-hand man." Right-HAND man. Oh boy. "She sits beside the Creator and does as she sees fit for Him, but we do not speak His name." Lest he want to invoke anything, yeesh. "The Hands are such: those of the Creator, to do as He says, but a lot of their work is their own." Like taking Raheerah and Dawa. "This," he gestured with his nose to nothing in particular, "is the nest. The entire cave exists to be a nest, for you, the children. The creations. The life." He shrugged. "And a nest is temporary, for most. The children grow and leave. The parents stay behind to raise the next brood." Where did they even begin to cultivate the idea of parents and children? Did it come with them from Earth? It was not something instilled on the creations before...

"But yes, Lord Dhracia is the one who took Raheerah—the dragon—and killed Jupiter." He was thankful for that. "Below the Spire is... the remnants of the Spire that came before it." How he missed it. "It is a well of the magic that was originally native to the caves, and that some of the creatures here share," his nose pointed to Vargas, "like in Vargas, and in me."

Hmm. He was silent for a moment as he thought, wondering if there might be other ways to explain it, but he did not think it mattered in the long run. "It is not bad," he decided to say, looking to the wolf sincerely. "It does come with change, but it is not bad. It is a stronger magic than most of you were born with, so it will not be easy to adapt to it if you choose to seek it out. However, if you can survive the change, you will be stronger for it." Yes, that was a good mostly-truthful lie.

Finally, his attention returned to Giggle. "Learning to read and write may take some time, but I can come to teach you every now and then, when I find freedom from my tasks. First, however, I must meet with Vargas." He turned to view the large beast. "Master Vargas, might you accompany me to the altar? If you are free." His eyes swept over the others. "That is, assuming you have no more questions. I have set aside all plans for the day to attend this meeting, so I am free to stay for as long as you wish."

Ugh. At least he seemed to have quelled the rebellion—he didn't want a second full-blown rebellion on his resume. At least one not as flagrant as the last.

Pride stared at Astraea, the myriad revelations whirling in his mind. The white stag's one lurking desire suddenly surfaced in him, an urge, one so strong and trembling it was nearly alive, and before he could stop himself he had blurted:

"Is there-... any way out? Is there any world beyond this place? Is there... anywhere else we can go?" Desperate wishes for the open skies he'd only heard described, for vast swathes of unknown land, for adventure, for exploration-... for a life beyond the stifling of underground caves... it had been haunting him for cycles, now.

He hesitated, and remembered his manners. "Ahh--thank you, Astraea, for telling us all of this. I don't know how much we can make sense of--it seems this is an entire world of which we were unaware." Grimly-said. A nest, belonging to some creature of such power that he could not even be named? An entire ecosystem used to churn out Gembound, generation after generation? Another, older Spire..?

Still, it explained a great deal. Astraea's ruthlessness, for one. He has someone else to answer to. He'd heard it suspected, among other Gembound, but now they knew for sure. The stag wasn't this way out of viciousness, but--at least perceived--necessity.

Hm.

Six toxic eyes widened.

Everything that Astraea had said, Vargas had simply listened to, and observed. But two words shocked him into response: 'The Altar.'

The WHAT? he thought, starting, but managed not to blurt it like a fool. The idea that one of them had survived sent a cold thrill through him, excitement and anticipation rising as a tide.

The idea that he might ever be on par with Astraea in terms of authority had not occurred to him. For now, he was likely--without realizing it--to simply be a second Master puppetted by the master of Fungus. He hadn't even considered if he was to be given an element to supervise, or what--he didn't care, he didn't ask. Instead, the lure of power and authority--the fruit, Vargas imagined, of centuries of loyal service--was finally about to pay off.

And, on the practical side, it would aid his true goals of getting this nest running again.

It was without realizing it, then, that he bowed deeply as he spoke--not as an equal, but still a subordinate.

"Of course, Master Astraea," he answered--and it was respectful, though at least not grovelling.

He took several long steps toward Astraea, awaiting his lead.

@Reign (etc.) @Aure (etc) @James @Damask @Temperantia

Dread listened, silent.

Most of this went in one ear-hole and out the other, but one thing settled in his mind like an unwelcome fly: uninvited, but impossible to ignore. That thing was that Astraea was offering the hyena something, and Dread hadn't specifically been offered, too.

Jealous desire flared in him.

"I WANT TO READ, TOO," he demanded, like a child throwing a massive draconic tantrum, tail slapping down behind him as if for emphasis.

Whether it was genuine desire, or just mindless greed, could be anyone's guess.

Giggle listened as intently as she could, struggling to file this all away.

"I look forward to it," she said aloud, but her mind was whirling trying to keep up.

A Lord Dhracia, right-hand-man, apparently, to a Creator. A nest. Parents, and children. An old Spire.

And Giggle found herself wondering: how did this all fit into the dark place into which she'd been taken? The hellscape full of eyes, and nothing else whatsoever? Her head tilted, and she called out, fighting off the memories that lurked, and vaguely, faintly, threatened to crowd in.

"I've got one question. The dark place, full of eyes. That magic. Is that related to this--Dhracia, or the nest-thing, or the Spire or any of that? What is that place--where does that come from? Do you know?"

Do you know how I can NEVER go there again? she added, in her mind, wryly.

rain stock: D Sharon Pruitt wiki commons; hyena Benjamin Hollis on flickr

James sure hoped that nothing happened to Khloros. He was the only other horse he'd seen, and a friend (so he told himself). He turned his head to face Gaul, watching them rest their head on his back, before facing the center again.

"I can't," he said, and pointed his nose at Pride, "I requested I come with him, and... I may have made a promise to myself to stay for moral support. Stupid, I know... but he's done so much for me, it's the least I can do."

James sighed softly and curled up a bit more, flinching as voices raised and tempers flared. No one was at all happy about the flagrant things Vargas and Astraea were saying.

"I'll leave with Pride," he decided, knowing that at least the stag would be able to carry him home using telekinesis if he fainted.

Hopefully, this ended soon. He was hungry.

@Gaul

Nemo

Nemo had arrived... quite late.

Very, very late.

In fact, he's pretty sure he missed the meeting as a whole... given that some Gembound were speaking and becoming agitated, including some he recognized as neighbors in Monoceros.

Shit.

He comes swooping into the cave, and towards the arena... pulling up and away as he enters the large stone structure, and alighting on a stone seat somewhat near a group of Gem bound who all look... vaguely similar to him, in all honesty, but he quickly shakes off the feeling and looks around at the assorted group... and shudders at the terrifyingly large purple beast in the center, and the other next to it that looks... vaguely like him. Maybe his spawn...?

Nemo needs to ask for a recap of what he missed, and the Gembound has no idea where to start... and even though the ones on the dais offer questions, he highly doubts that they'd appreciate needing to fill someone in.

He had entered at the part where the ones in the center spoke of a Nest, but he could hear the capital letter on that- not a home, then, but something else. Odd.

Everything else goes right over his head, all these names and what seem like ranks... and his confusion is palpable as he fidgets, pressing a wing over the bauble on his chest in worry.

Hopefully he can simply listen as the others ask questions... and he won't have to embarrass himself with seeming like a hatchling once more.

Imre still had trouble following the situation but he was trying his best. He agreed that there were words and phrases he didn't know, so he nodded as the others asked for clarification, looking down to the deer. When it came, his eyes shifted to the others again, wondering if they understood any of that...

Reading and writing seemed like a popular subject, so he nodded to this too, his ears lifting as one of the larger creatures—a big, black, winged monstrosity perched on the edge of the stone with others like it—roared about also wanting in on this action.

The child hesitated, then stretched his nose up with a small voice: "Me too...!"

He wouldn't be surprised if his voice went unheard, but he wanted to finally get a word in for himself in this whole thing. Imre didn't have any questions of his own, at least none that he knew of yet...

once again, dialogue audible only to @Auré !

oh. damask stiffened as astraea heard out the questions, even went on to answer them. his explanations were straight and fair, without a trace of the bite she'd expected. i stand corrected. a flush of embarrassment rose to her face; she shifted from side to side, looked back at her father, parted her mouth and elected to close it. she'd misjudged the cervine master — been too cynical. but, hey, this is a good thing. you want to learn more, don't you? listen up, and then you can get out of here.

again she listened, rapt, committing his every word to encyclopedic memory. most of them were, once again, difficult to parse without context, but his agreement to teach them — to make the unknown known — did pique her interest. she sent a sidelong glance of gratitude at giggle: the offer likely wouldn't have come if she hadn't asked for it. then came pride's turn to speak, and here, damask really paid attention.

"is there — ... any way out? is there any world beyond this place? is there ... anywhere else we can go?"

lorekeeper's story. almost involuntarily, the bird of prey stepped forward with a shiver, eyes alight, leaning into the center of the forum. the surface, she spoke about. the sky. the shapes of those powerful words ghosted silently along her lips. she ached to invoke them, echo the stag's plea for answers, but — all these voices, overlapping; all these bodies, crowded together. the sensory crush was worsening, not abating. forgetting something? that voice of yours is way too quiet, anyway, and do you really want to shout with it? didn't think so. a reprimanding shake of her feathers, and she tiptoed back to auré's side, settling for a rapid seconding nod.

"wait, not just yet," she whispered his way, sighing shakily. "i need to hear how he handles that one."

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Orthoclase-Alpha

Game Master CJ

Pride

Vargas

Dread

Giggle

James

Nemo

Imre

Damask