ORIGIN

When he first sighted the trunk of this tree he thought nothing of it, and slipped on by in his prowling among the mosses. It was not until his shoulder brushed against it - close enough for the poisonous quills draping his shoulders to bend whisker-like in response - that Teyouma took proper notice of just how large the growth was. Beyond that it was the texture of the thing: porous, fleshy, so utterly unlike any rough-hewn tree or alien vine within this vibrant place.

He stopped immediately and pressed a cautious palm against the trunk, half expecting his hand to sink in to the substance, even entertained the thought of losing a limb to it; so he was quick, and when nothing happened after the initial probing he sniffed the surface of his palm to check for any clues. It smelled like everything else in Eridanus. As Teyouma grew bored of this lacklustre study his gaze drifted up, up, up, and through the netted branches of the forest he could see a deep shadow. If he squinted and focused, he thought he could see... gills.

Trees did not have gills. Mushrooms did, though. He knew that much. Could one such growth become so large as to block a span of the ceiling like this? He looked around quickly, then launched himself in to the lower branches of a young tree struggling in the shadow. From there he took to climbing and hopping intermittently, and managed to make it a few feet higher; but the mushroom's cap remained out of reach, and his arms were getting stiff.

He found a series of crossed branches spidering from a copse of trees and scrambled atop them, using his talons to hook against the bark, his tail to counter-balance, and occasional sweeps and tucks of his wings. They were useless in this place - his wings - as the forest's canopy was so thick that they became an obstacle to him; snaring on objects more than anything. But Teyouma found a spot to settle and to rest.

There was a good view of the mushroom's wide stalk from his roosting place, while a few giant branches palmed overhead, giving the illusion of safety and secrecy. He lingered there a moment or two to catch his breath; his heart pounded from all the climbing and the rest of him had begun to protest; his weak little meat suit was wiry at best, and he knew he would be sore if he sat too long.

When he had enough sitting in the dark, Teyouma crawled carefully along the limb, mindful of the damp moss that clung to every surface. He was thankful for his talons for the first time ever, although it was a passing thought. The further he went the more exposed he felt, but the closer he came to an exposed piece of the mushroom's stalk. There he pressed his palm upon it again, closed his eyes, and tried to connect with the mushroom with his magic. He did not know that he was incapable of this; only that there was a familiarity with the shroom, and an innate understanding of their sameness on some level.

The energy pulsed through him, from the center of his body out through the network of veins, filling him with the hum of magicka. A cloud of dust eddied around him imperceptively - at least until it built up and turned the air yellow, like motes of pollen sweeping through the treetops. Anywhere the dust settled came a higher pitched humming, and the moss he had crawled across began to shimmer and morph, sprouting in to a myriad of glossy orbs networked together; this spread immediately away from Teyouma and tapered out as it went, effectively producing a web of invisible growth beneath him. The rest, left suspended in the air, fell away and drifted among the trees, ready to infect anything - or anyone - that might surreptitiously wander by.

Had he been a little smarter about this he would have noticed the lack of visible change around him, but he was as intelligent as a box of rocks despite his age, made more obvious by the number of times Teyouma had died, fallen asleep only to crystalize, or generally failed at anything he set out to do.

He could feel the bacteria in the air the way one might feel the presence of a mosquito; it was spawned of him and connected via his magic, and so Teyouma knew his spell had been successful. He could not ignore this feeling.

After waiting a heartbeat or two he anticipated some kind of response from the Monarch. A bloom of spores, perhaps - a shudder to the flesh of the trunk, a light switching on as the gills illuminated in the manner of Polaris' growths perhaps. None of these things happened. He was left with his hand pressed against the surface of the shroom (leaving a slight indent which became more like an ugly scratch as his talons sank against it), feeling like an utter dumbass.

Then, something moved.

He felt it more than he saw it. A shuddering sensation from overhead. Thinking that he was on the recieving end of a response (finally) Teyouma looked up, his red eyes filled with awe.

His gaze met the blank yellow stare of the lizard; but he was not dissuaded, rather, his limited brainpower connected this lizard to his desires, and he felt elated instead. Clearly this lizard was special. It must have been acting on orders from this massive mushroom!

So, he did the only thing he could: he reached out with his magic again, focusing everything he had on those eyes.

It looked as if the lizard was about to react to his magic. He stared up at it, filled with the conviction of someone who had just discovered God for the first time; humbled in the presence of the small creature, mystified by it's connection to the Monarch. Teyouma only wanted to communicate; he knew that whatever this vessel had to share with him was ordained by the great shroom and so he waited with a breath hitched in his chest. Pious, of all things.

The lizard's mouth opened. Out rained a mess of carapaces, some slick with digestive fluids and others with a consistency like wet leaves, tumbling forth and splattering across his face. His eyes shut immediately but that did not stop the fluids from entering his eyes - stinging them, scalding them almost. He felt something catch on his lip and did not know if he should spit to be rid of it or sit as still as possible, for surely this was the message delivered unto him for good reason.

He should have stepped aside, but he had not. He should feel repulsed by this sour rain that fell upon him, but he did not; rather, Teyouma felt blessed. He had been anointed by this puny vessel! He could feel the bacteria crawling on him - dared not touch his face, unless he ruin the moment.

All he did in response, aside from stand there in silent praise of the lizard, was suck in a breath of the foul air and shriek in to the canopy: praise be, Monarch!

The lizard heard the screech and it did what any rational creature would: it turned and noped the heck out of there. As the tail of the critter slipped away a sense of finality descended upon Teyouma; so did a tension in his neck, so he stopped leaning against the Monarch and staring up. A beetle carapace fluttered from atop his head to the branch at his feet, not that he took any notice.

He would not leave the Monarch for some time; but he was tired, and full of thoughts that made little sense, so he lurched in to a haphazard run across the thick-set branch, to the shadowed joint where he had made his roost before. There he would curl up to think, and inevitably fall asleep.