ORIGIN

"this way."

she still there? an over-the-shoulder shot in reverse. sure is.

tapping talons, padding footfalls. a rift of space hung between damask and her grandmother, maintained in subtle sidesteps and speed-ups whenever a long stride came too close. even still, she swore she could feel the hyena breathing on her, a heat that seeped into her skin and made her feathers prickle. it's too tense around here. whatever reprieve she'd found in the gap between her departure and their reunion had fallen away. she couldn't shake a certain sense of wrongness — maybe it was the same trouble she'd seen earlier, maybe not, but something was on giggle's mind, she knew it. and how about you, kid? the blame is all hers, huh? as if you're some almighty pinnacle of zen. as if you're trying and failing, not making it worse. as if you've said more than five words since she got here — those last two included.

but! inhale, swallow, exhale. here comes your free pass. damask had elected to lead along the room's perimeter, hugging the wall and its glowing adornments. here, a cluster of crystals stood in their path. a detour around it, and ... oh, there he is ... the hallway yawned darkly in the rock. just beside it: her father's chrysalis. no amount of sound could have woken him up, but her pace abruptly slowed from a brisk walk to almost a tiptoe, each step chosen with care and respect.

"he's ... not in a very good place." almost an apology, spoken softly with a wince. "it was the furthest he could go." a memory clouded over her reality: barely-there auré, lurching and collapsing, stolen into tortured sleep. go away. please. i get the picture. a toss of her head sent the sight flying like pool water, leaving nothing but his chrysalis in its wake.

it had formed in jagged spikes, a miniature mountain range; she could trace the crumpled shapes of his body inside of it. the bird of prey brushed along its circumference and settled opposite her approach. "his head is just here," she said, her voice a world away. a crown of jasper sprang from the floor just in front of her, shorter than the rest. her muzzle ghosted towards it. she wanted to let it rest there, give him the contact she couldn't in the flesh, but — (what are you doing? it's not just you here, you freak) — she stopped herself and withdrew, as if struck. all of a sudden, a sideways brick had lodged itself in her throat. damask raised her eyes and searched for giggle's. "i intend to stay with him. make sure he's safe."

"thanks." what? "good on you." for real? "it's a good thing he brought you." it is?

damask's expression sharpened, tightened, furrowed. she inclined her chin in a microscopic hint of gratitude, too taken aback to express it otherwise — her initial reaction of shock snowballing into another. what had she expected, exactly? the answer came almost too easily: judging, doubting, reprimanding, poking holes that weren't even there, for having the audacity to make her own plans without asking approval; for wanting her own power to decide and her own space to breathe. yet, hard as she tried, she couldn't find even a trace of malice in the seer's dark eyes. kid ... she's your grandmother. challenging, yeah, and overbearing — be careful, keep your distance, don't let her in — but she's not out to get you. paranoid. that's what you're becoming.

and giggle kept talking. too much, all at once. her ears pressed so far forward they trembled, straining to listen through both forms of input. nine words in, and she was already shaking her head. her response was immediate. "food and rest won't be a problem for me." damask's eyes dropped to her father's crown. "it's kind of you to offer, but i'd like to do this on my own. you belong in canis, with the other bonebound."

read: i don't need your help. she'd thought it through. damask rested lightly and little enough as it was — better to lose sleep starting at rabbits than miss a potential threat. as for the other issue: she wouldn't have to stay with the chrysalis round-the-clock, thanks to her affinity with blood; periodic scans would allow for short, occasional trips to stretch her wings, practice her magic, and ... yes, also hunt when she needed to. but it won't have to be all that often, will it? the bird of prey shifted, subtly, wings rustling. remember that little number with giggle and the birds? remember how disgusting you felt, how long you went hungry, how your dad had to snap you out of it? real good times. maybe you could push it, set a new record —

shut UP. holding back a wince, she blinked and then finished, picking up where she'd left off, the intermission just slightly too long to be natural: "i'll take him home when he's ready." her eyes drifted to the point of the chrysalis giggle had touched. something about that last suggestion rubbed damask the wrong way — she could do this herself, she could, and after auré's trial, she'd seen enough fungus to last a lifetime — but ... at last she nodded at the spot and looked to giggle: go ahead, if that's what's best for him.

she doesn't belong anywhere? giggle? damask's head cocked to the side — not at all hurt by the correction, but quizzical, puzzling at it. the remark struck her as ... an omen, almost — all the more alarming for its casual delivery. resignation, maybe. like a sad, bitter joke. it would've been strange coming from anyone, but ... her grandmother? she had a den, her very own bone pit, all of canis to consider her home; she was their family's seer, advisor, and matriarch, a keystone second only to auré himself. giggle had found a place in these caves, somewhere she fit.

and you haven't.

that thought cut especially deep, but none of it sat right with her. already the words had lodged in her skull, filed away for later examination. damask kept them there, waiting in silence as the hyena grappled with her magic. fair enough; happens to the best of 'em. and she's just about done with you, yeah? she gave you options, you got to pick one. that's progress. now, she'll be on her way any minute. just let her do her thing, and then: super easy, you got this, two weeks on vacation, that's all it is ...

no. she stiffened, posture drawn, jaw clenched hard. too easy. there's always a catch with her. shit, giggle had said, once and twice again — and damask didn't flinch, didn't even flick an ear. she could still taste the salty-sweet hiss of it on her tongue, still remember how good it had felt. bet it'd feel real good right now.

it took her a moment: a breath, gathering herself up, keeping her seething tight under wraps. at last she spoke, and it was with her usual speed and composure, but also a kind of force — slightly raised under knit brows and unblinking eyes.

"twice a day? it's a three-hour walk. you'd spend half your time traveling, more of it visiting. and for what? to look at the rock that he's in?" that's not what this is and you know it. the choice you gave me wasn't a choice. laden implications, all left unspoken. "you have your spells, your bones, your familiar — any of which will tell you if something goes south. your king instructed you to take care of his family, and giggle, i am not a child anymore." a low simmer had edged into her voice. be cool. she rectified it immediately. "i won't stand in the way of you seeing your son, but i'm asking you to trust me. let me do this. alone."

a beat, and then damask's gaze shifted to the chrysalis. of the seer's magic: "take your time." giggle had told her exactly the same, once — but the echo was chillier.

seriously? an entire rhetorical essay, she'd been given — one, two, three ... seven good reasons why her timetable made no sense — and that was all giggle had to say? i'm aware he's your son, the accipiter fought to withhold. which you would know, if you'd actually listened when i used that exact word. a canine glinted with a twitch of her muzzle, hinting at a just-repressed snarl. twice a day, twelve hours' travel — all to confirm that a hunk of solid jasper was still intact. ah, and it had to be in person, because evidently, nothing less would suffice. either giggle was tremendously invested in spending quality time with auré's inanimate chrysalis, or: she felt he wasn't safe enough in his child's care. if it'd been anybody else, she would've left it alone. but with damask, it seemed he ran the risk of neglect, desertion, and injury. is that really what she thinks of me? like he's not my family too? like i'm not the one who was there for him when he almost —

"this isn't about you."

... heh. you were saying?

damask's face slowly, slightly fell, all her fury fading into abject dejection. what? you heard her. now get out of your head for just one second. he's not yours to claim and fight over, and yet here you are, pitching a fit over having to share him? not a child anymore, huh? yeah, right, you selfish piece of — and right around there, she clamped her jaws and bit down, teeth meeting with a sting of blood on her tongue. not here, not now, not in front of giggle. the effect had been brief, nigh imperceptible, and she extinguished its advance, assembling her features into a forcible approximation of composure. her heart was roaring loud in her ears, nausea rising fast in her throat, ribs closer and closer around straining lungs; but she breathed steadily through her nose, treading water — keeping her panic inside, where it belonged.

"is there anything you need?" the hyena had asked, and "do you want to talk?" funny how she still wasted her time on questions like those. damask's answer was never a yes, and somehow, she suspected her grandmother didn't even want it to be. a formality, that was all it was. of all the souls she could've confessed to, giggle was dead last. "again: kind of you to offer." the bird of prey rose to her feet, dipped her head, and stepped back — the picture of poise. "i'll be on watch."

as damask finished, her gaze crept up and away, resting on the height of the chrysalis — the summit that would be her post. just a little longer, for the dozenth time that day. she was itching for freedom, escape, the sigh of relief that would begin to ease her tension away. given the circumstances, she couldn't just leave when she otherwise would've, and every moment that rooted her to the floor was another measure of pressure in her chest. soon.

her eyes switched back at the seer's approach. an apprehensive furrow developed between them, jawline cocking and twisting minutely away. "ah —" and there was giggle's muzzle, an electric shiver of contact at her cheek. the gesture was sweet, entirely affectionate; she endured it with a sharp intake of breath, stiff as a board, fending off the urge to flinch. hey! kid! quit being weird! she's nice, see? with effort, she laid her crest flat and relaxed against her racing heart, the narrowness between them like static on her skin.

once again, giggle spoke. that word rest, over and over, almost teasing ... but at least she'd be out of sight. the accipiter nodded shortly. "will do." it wasn't a lie, exactly; the agreement hinged on ifs and thens. she wouldn't need anything, and she definitely did not want — sleep? yeah, you do. ... okay, fine. her nerves were fried. she couldn't remember ever feeling more exhausted. but sing that refrain: not here, not now. she'd address the issue later, when her body left her no other choice. until then — guard duty. she edged away and fluttered up to her perch. grasping claws found purchase on the stone, and she shifted, settled, folded her wings. damask's head swiveled just slightly to the side, regarding giggle in her periphery.

"rest well, and safe travels."

a little lame, maybe, but she didn't usually traffic in the business of goodbyes.