ORIGIN

Scales flashed beneath the waters. Silverline bodies darted after the ringlets that formed across the surfaces. Lunar eyes watched, points of light in a semi-gathered darkness. The black shuck found the ponds a perfect place for quiet reflection; not just because his own distorted image played across the filthy pools. For many cycles the noise of waterfall had resounded in ears, filling them with familiarity. A thunderous refrain from the cascades echoed within these chambers, though the fish seemed little to mind. Wordless, he leaned forward from where the grim sat upon his haunches, watching the schooling things flicker to and fro. Their small motions did not balm peace, (but rather) an unease - as though they could sense the predator hovering over them.

Kazgut was not in hungering. He and the moon of his life had eaten but a few hours ago, having chased the savage rats from their hiding holes until they craved no more. For the moment his dear Vyette was vanished. She will not be long. Instead, his fixation remained with the creatures beneath the surface of the waves. It was a shame, thought he, that should he pluck them from the waters that their beauty would then end. Otherwise they would make a fitting gift. Silver fish fit for silk.

The black shuck could make out the shadows of the fish splaying upon the crusty rocks underneath the shallow pools. With keen eyes, he watched their duplicated images follow the motions of their fins; pacing in their place round and round. Then, he attempted to mirror them - to shadow their shadows - to create images to follow after -

- perhaps leaning too far forward, far too intent on this - (on his casting) - for Kazgut soon found himself within the pond. Rather gracelessly falling forward to meet reflection and pass beneath.

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@Vyette may or may not make an appearance - be ware.

No creature with (a shred of) pride enjoys failing so spectacularly. Surfacing from the shallow pool, the black shuck did not waste time in digging claws into the side of the pond and hauling form back onto solid surface. Thoroughly shaking self off, Kazgut felt foolish. Attempting to rid himself of the water further, he then proceeded to shake himself again, the great form of the dog made all the more lean from his misadventure (for a deal of his considerably bulk came from the heft of his furs). With a sideways glance backward to the fish that frantically circled beneath the surface, he let out a breath.

Are you enough of a fool to attempt a second time? Or was the magic of the moment lost to him, now that the grim had gone for a(n) (unintended) swim? Kazgut considered the fish, with their sleek bodies and erratic motions. Certainly he had disrupted their calm and peace. He could not summon any empathy for the little beasts. Hunger had begun to grow; but it was not a hunger for blood nor flesh nor rending. Still it ached in his teeth. Turning to regard the pond a second time, he brought his head down to regard his reflection, to again see eye to moonfish eye.

Perhaps a game of trials and errors had again begun; as it had so many cycles ago. For more often than not, it felt as though the black shuck were but one of misfortune (as though the darkness of his pelt could attract it). Once more his eyes narrowed their focus onto the shadows of the fish and their play; the darkness and light that existed so below. He wished to mimic these, to force them to rise, to copy like shadowed-puppets upon the waters.

So (this time) it was to be. Shadows of the fish replayed upon the rippling surface of the ponds, as though the quicksilver bodies had been turned upon end and their reflections instead were bid to rise. In a school, they darted to and fro - erratic motions circling endlessly, endlessly ...

... the black shuck focused solely on his orchestrations.

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Phantom images of the fish that swirled beneath replayed. Shadows, mirage images of what might be, danced along the seams of the ponds, scraping along the rocks as though cast there by some unknowable light source. Eyes continued their vigilant watching, eager to continue this silverline haunting; rising the shades above. Confused, the flurries of the fish underneath attempted to dance with their brethren - moving close to barrier of the water to air above. It seemed as though the earlier ordeal had fled their minds, and lips parted just in a smile at the thought. Foolish.

When the effects of the spell faded, the black shuck decided to attempt a different trick (for he was not through playing with the beings below, after all). Tilting his head, he imagined the movement of light about him; the precarious way own shadow was thrown to the ground. Can we make a trick of it? Kazgut wondered, listening to the thunderous calls of the cascades and lost in the ripples upon the pools before him.

Multishadow. Rising to stand, the churchyard grim saw the duplicate of own shadow playing upon the surface of the water sinister; joined therein by another; then a third. Lips peeled back just a touch in barest grin as the fish fled deeper (attempting to escape the predators lurking above). All this for amusement sake, you could say; the harmful huntings of someone still young.

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Hungering follows, as often it does. The fleeing of the fish unto the filthy (crusty) murk brings to the back of his throat a metallic tang. A want for flesh, for blood. Allowing the magic once more to fade from self (for teeth in own mind have begun to ache); the lunar emptiness of his sight encompasses the cavern. For a moment, Kazgut searches for Vyette, to see if his other has yet made a reappearance. When the one of spider silk and crystalline is not found, mind returns to the shimmer of fins fanning the waters. To kill the little creatures may not preserve their beauty, but the grim might be able to make an offering of them nonetheless.

For a breath, Kazgut observes. Poised above the still pool, his teeth are bared to their purpose. The water that still drips from his undercoat is a testament to how quickly these things turn awry. This does not discourage him. Collecting self, he anticipates the motions; watches as they flicker in (out) of sight. He is no stranger to these actions. Dozens of these fish have been sacrificed upon the altar of his teeth before now. Little thought is given before the shuck strikes -

- nearly missing the thin bodied being. Teeth sink into the flesh, raising victorious from the pool. Kazgut wastes no time in persuading his teeth to meet - to penetrate those flashing, silver scales that held him so enraptured. Beauty is fleeting. At least in these forms. As soon as the blood was tasted, the dog swallowed (thinking little more of the feeling).

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Pensiveness followed; or rather, something much like it. Attention strayed again from the bloodied beings that existed in their holes and toward the cavern that surrounded. Ears flickered, cupping delicately to the sounds of the water that continued to prevail. Pisces was known to the churchyard grim; a favored haunt of the moon and shadow. To speak little of what existed beyond. The remainder of the caves existed as mirages in mind, as half-remembered places and unspeakable things. Kazgut had taken heed to interact with few, and such had served him well enough. But those days were past, though days of youth and weakness ... and without the silken one to anchor him, mind was prone to wander ...

... to the skeletal forms that had once been espied. Imagining their relentless stalking forms, unable to be persuaded from some unknowable conquest. (Unknowable to he, for sure; he had been so young.) About him, thoughts replayed like echoes of these memories, shifting and casting themselves about the ponds that gathered so at his paws. Mirage forms of figures dancing, charging, moving relentlessly on. Restless in their bones. How much of it was imagined? Such a thing was of little consequences as the shadows bled around him, as the figures danced and seemed almost to chatter with lifelike enthusiasm - (a great contrast to the black shuck that toed about the ponds).

Kazgut imagined the negative spaces and the yawning maws; opening, clashing teeth - images that shifted, pooled about feet and were cast back at the walls again. About him, the shadows chided and rose, and he - at the center, felt that craving once more rising. What is left? The question had been on his mind as of late; when his ears had filled with the sounds of the waterfall and the bodies of the fish flashed underneath the waves.

The shadows about him could not answer. Kazgut was unable to give them purpose, to give them voice; to do anything more than paint the walls with that damned darkness - to cast his puppet shows about the broad chambers that he found himself in. They followed where he walked; haunted about his steps and seemed to delight in the way the lighting shifted (how he forced the light to move about him) -

Perhaps he would spend another hour as a swindler of the lives of those in waters; or perhaps he would find somewhere (something, someone) to haunt. Vyette. He thought, with absence. This was the price of purpose fleeing, then. He should return to her.

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Moment was considered. White-hot eyes closed for but a breath, collecting the thoughts that raced about mind and swallowing them. Getting the pacing feeling that churned in guts again under control. The restlessness had been mounting for days on end; reflected in he, in she - in them. Breath steamed upon the air, and the black shuck took stock of self. Fur was beginning to dry but had not yet lost the dampness from earlier plunge. Metallic taste sat at back of throat and stained the moonstone of teeth. Inside, body thrummed (imbued by the magics that ached inside mouth!) but there in the moment the dog stood.

Here there was only the prevailing dampness; the slickness of the rocks and the rivulets that cut their corners soft. Eyes flashed open, regarding the rocks simply. She was around here somewhere. Yet for the moment the churchyard grim did not call out; taking a step forward to haunt about the ponds until their paths again crossed. There was no need yet for alarm, although the ache of distance was beginning.

Strange perhaps, to others, who faced the world alone - but he was merely two halves of a whole and could not exist in solitude for long. His long stretches of silence were best suited to the words that she spoke. This was known. Kazgut (no swindler now, only he) stepped about the shallow pools and their murky depths, beginning finally his search earlier abandoned ...

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EXIT KAZGUT