ORIGIN

Only a few days before had he been here with Aristotle, collecting herbs and plants and meeting a teeny tiny little lifeform named Sun. Only a few days before had he been reminded of his own hatching, and of the beings who had been there to witness his arrival into the world.

One of which he hadn't stopped thinking about since the Orion meeting.

James for once was serious. He disliked Cetus, possibly even hated it, so for him to go to such lengths to meet someone such as Khloros meant that this was important. He had to speak to him.

His meeting with Pride had gotten him... thinking about things.

"... Khloros!" he called out, and lit up a wisp to create something for the horse to hopefully follow.

Only for a blast of light to fill his vision and make him rear in surprise and slight pain, his retinas scorched before he was able to snap his eyes shut. He squealed and turned away, the wisp fizzling into nonexistence, the energy that should have sustained it for a short while having exploded in one swift burst instead. He shook his head out and staggered a few steps, disoriented as he sort of hobbled around in a circle. Well... at least the flash would get some attention, hopefully, Khloros'.

He rubbed his eyes on his knee and shook his head out before finally opening his eyes, the back of his eyes stinging as he squinted heavily, his vision impaired by spots following his eyes as he moved... was he blind?

Panic made him freeze as his eyes darted to and fro, the weird spots following. Though... as they slowly started to fade, he relaxed. Temporary. Next time he'd be more careful, he didn't want another boulder incident.

James looked down at the bauble around his neck, the matching piece of neckwear of which Aristotle had too, one of a pair. He looked up again and waited patiently, the soft golden light that reminded him so much of his friend providing some comfort.

It wasn't the flash that caught his attention, nor even the name (a sound he wasn't even sure he'd heard, and certainly hadn't made out at this distance) but the short, single squeal. That sound jolted fear into him, sparking horribly across some instinct he hadn't known he'd had.

He was long, lanky, leggy--but even still there was a distance to go and that, through heavy muck.

Khloros splashed in that general direction, calling out, after a moment--a long whinny, questioning, and then his voice, as he searched the darkness and the mist for whoever had cried out.

"Hello? Is someone hurt? Is there someone there?" he shouted; and for some reason, the image of the ram Aries lying bloodied and broken on the ice flashed through his mind.

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James blinked and perked up as he heard a voice, one familiar to him. He let out a whinny in reply and made off into the muck, cursing under his breath as his feet and hooves squelched and stuck in the mud and grime. He hated mud.

Khloros! It's me, James!" he called out, "I'm uninjured... my magic backfired, is all."

Through the mist, he trudged before finally coming across a black shape that mirrored his own, and he cantered the next few paces forward as he came upon the horse. James snorted gently and offered his nose out to sniff the other to reacquaint them with each other's scents before pulling away.

"... I'm glad you're okay," he said after a few moments, "I was worried that after the meeting, some might go after you. After what you and Dragon said, I was under the assumption that it may not be such a wild assumption."

He just hoped that the other remembered him. He was young and as black as night, back then, with no mane or tail to speak of and legs that could barely hold him. Now? He was nearly grown, with a long mane and tail and a star on his forehead, with three white socks and a coat like deep, rich chocolate. He was handsome, actually.

Struggling steps took him, sloshing and staggering, to the other, though his gait had slowed when he'd heard the lack of urgency in the voice. The name clued him in, more than anything; James certainly did look different, although he'd have still been Khloros' first guess.

He'd met only two other black horses over the years, and both had been large, heavyset draft beasts, and he had seen neither of them in many cycles.

Nose was offered to nose, short blast of warm breath an instinctive greeting, and then his ears pricked to listen to the other horse. He watched him, too: near full-grown now, as lean as Khloros himself (though thankfully not as lean as he'd used to be); brown-black and splashed very lightly with white. It was strange to see another so like himself, here.

"Your cry had me worried," he answered, as James finished speaking--his voice that same strange, distant mildness it always held, as if his mind were somewhere farther away than his body seemed. He stepped back, head shifting to look around, body otherwise eerily still. "I didn't realize it was you. I'm unharmed," he added, and then looked back to James: "but the Spire hasn't answered my prayers." A pause, and then, thoughtful: "Perhaps the one I saw within is only a visitor. But there is black beneath it, now. I suspect something worse is coming."

It was not the most reassuring greeting, but then, Khloros never seemed to be quite all there, either.

Without segue, then, he added: "You've grown."

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"Ah- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you," he said, his voice holding the uncertain ups and downs of a boy struggling to keep his voice from cracking, "But... you saw something? In the Spire?"

James paused at Khloros' comment about his growth and looked down at himself, not really having noticed the growing he'd been doing in such a short amount of time. He nodded gently and looked up at Khloros again, still thankful that he'd managed to find the horse so quickly.

"I have, but I want to... ask you some things," James said, "You told me some things when we first met, but I'm afraid I can't really remember. But... would you mind explaining the things you've seen in your visions?"

Now, James was no fool. Well, mostly. (Read: boulder incident.) But he reasoned that it would be obvious if the rambling tellings of a crazed Gembound would be easy to tell apart from the truth (or half-truth, but he was prepared to decipher lies from honesty). Perhaps learning Khloros' mad wisdom could bring him some, as well.

Magic and strength wasn't the only power in the caves. Knowledge served most well, too.

He watched James, for a moment, the curling mist of the ancient swamp around them providing a suitably dramatic backdrop: two black horses in the darkness of the swamp, eyeing one another.

His tail swished, breaking the moment, and he looked off toward the tunnel entrance.

"I saw you, I think, in Orion. When the rest met. -Was that you?" An unrelated remark, given in a half-dreamy voice, as if his mind were elsewhere; and then--"I'll tell you of it again. Will you come with me to Polaris? I want to see the Spire. I want to speak of it there. I want to speak to it, and see if it answers, this time," he told James softly.

He wondered, for a moment: if he walked back into it, what would happen? Would he see the gentle-faced creature, again? Would the Spire allow his trespass, this time?

Khloros turned, and began to shuffle off through the muck toward Tunnel H, as if simply assuming that James would follow.

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James nodded, "Yes. I came with Pride and left a bit early. It was a bit... much."

He made off after Khloros as he started towards the tunnel, glad that they were leaving, "Of course. As much as I like seeing you, I'm not too fond of all this mud... it's so icky and gross and hard to clean."

It would take days of washing to get his feet snow white again... hm. It seems he'd become a bit vain.

"I didn't know you could speak to the Spire. Er... you've spoken to it before? What happened?" he asked curiously, keeping pace with the horse as they made towards the tunnel.

Khloros peered back, briefly.

"When I spoke to it? Nothing. When it spoke to me-? I'll repeat all of that once we get there." He flicked his tail, idly; his words had not been cold or cruel, but calm, measured. He'd told James some of this before--how much, he could not remember; but it would be time soon enough for him to tell him all again.

Hooves trudged through muck, and Khloros was silent: apparently there was a time and a place to this story... for whatever reason.

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James watched Khloros' form walk away. He looked down before cantering off after the horse, following him to Polaris.