damask's attention fell from eythan to his parcel. blink by blink, the hatchling cast away a layer of sleep, coming awake, coming alive. observe!: four eyes, four wings; twin sets of horns and scythes; and a pattern of neon rosettes, glowing slightly in the chambers' half-light. now, who did all of that remind her of? alpha. both were primeval, unusual, almost otherworldly, yet far from entirely alike. she hadn't asked where the chrysalis came from, but see, it hadn't been hard to infer; its oily sheen matched that of a stone eythan had found several weeks ago, taken from a dead stranger's hideaway. something about it had unsettled her at the time. now? that was the least of her problems. she ground her teeth, fought the urge to look away. no signals. no instructions. best to follow the law of inertia.
for a moment, the kitten-chick lingered on eythan. then, they glanced in turn at giggle, ashtoreth, and her, only to go back to square one. at last their mouth opened and set loose a single, stammering syllable, their very first word, a cry for their father — ... no, their father, the hatchling's. damask's uncle. heh. now, isn't that sweet? a few minutes out of that shell and they're already bonding. he's always had it in him. just not for you. she kept up the smile, but — it was getting heavier. another call whined in her ears, buzzing with reckless, childish joy. out came an arm, followed by another. they were shooting straight for a certain black-and-white bullseye — not quickly, not gracefully, but inexorably nonetheless. well. that wasn't great. damn, you good? not even gonna think about moving away?
"daaaaad?," and bump!
damask stiffened at the touch. no flinch — (not safe) — no grimace — (not safe) — just a deep freeze, beating heart her only move. dad. out of all those present, what made her their instinctive pick for that position? the taste of vomit stung in her throat. what's wrong with you? damask. it doesn't matter. she forced it down, leaving a bone-dry ache in its place. yeah, kid, you're keeping it cool. no feelings here. nothing at all. stone-cold, get it? her chest felt ... terribly tight, all of a sudden. sort of like that smile, actually, except that it'd since evaporated into thin air. "no, not me," she told the neonate. it came out quiet, a little strained, not as trim as usual. her head shook slowly down at them, the movement so rigid it was almost mechanical. "let's try again, all right?"
they were still someone, just ... a very small, very new someone in their most formative moments. not to be babied or talked down to, nor ignored or pushed away. (but oh, boy, would you love to.) damask sidestepped, rounding the hatchling by forty-five degrees. a wing snapped out to indicate her uncle. "there's your dad." she motioned towards him with her muzzle — even sent a weak breeze to stir the dust and swirl along his feathers and fur, help drive it home. "then here's giggle, and here's ashtoreth." a gust of wind and a gesture for each, respectively. the accipiter exhaled and folded her wings back at her sides.
"your family."