ORIGIN

When the soft light went gently bobbing past, the serpentine creation lunged for it with open jaws--biting the first thing that caught his attention, as he was so wont to.

Jaws closed over it and for an instant the orb glowed bright through his jaw and throat, before he spat it back out, jerking back and coughing in confusion.

What did light taste like? Nidhogg didn't really have the verbal aptitude to explain, or at least the urge to do so. He looked to Zoisite. This one made him a little wary; its soft grub-like body had once been something to ignore, Nidhogg's primitive mind classing it as "harmless," or something to try and nip at when he could, though he'd often missed or failed entirely. Now it was hardening--plates, shells, all bristles and hard points and things that'd hurt his mouth. He coiled back, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I'm NIDHOGG," he said, and then realized that--yes, Zoisite had called him that. "Not Chaos-One," he muttered anyway, sullenly. He was curling and walking over his own body, serpentine and sulky.

A snap at the light--halfhearted and too far away, now--was followed by a hiss at Zoisite. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Checking on me? Nidhogg knew nothing of empathy or concern, and so his brain quickly substituted, checking up on me, mistranslating something that required no translation. His jaw gaped in an immediate hiss, squinting against the light, hostile.

Hostile to V-Zoisite-One, who was a) there and b) breathing and c) how dare it??? and hostile against the light, hostile against the sound of bristles against the rock, all of which grated along its thin-sheathed nerves. "NIDHOGG IS MY NAME," it practically screeched, tensing, defensiveness raising every quill along its back. Agency, that was what this generation of Vargas' children fought for; freedom and independence. When they fought at all. When they imagined that they had to. Nidhogg was a stubborn, independent thing and had become fiercely possessive over something as simple as a name.

Hostility flared up further--defensive again, because he wanted nothing near him and suspicious, because why would the grub-turned-shell-thing want to say 'hi,' what did it expect in return-? Impulsively violent as ever, the half-grown serpent reached for whatever magic might respond.

He felt it--it flared out, reaching, feeling, but nothing... happened. He hissed again, frustrated now at that, too; "Why HI?" he demanded, eyes narrowing, skittering back even further. "Why say HI?!"

Because honestly, again, how dare it.

'Don't yell. Vargas might hear.'

Nidhogg turned, lip curling, facing the vague direction he'd last known Vargas to be in.

Deep breath-

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A long pause, a wait. A self-satisfied flick of its tail. Truth be told, Vargas probably couldn't be bothered with such minor idiocies as "screeching serpent-child," but to Nidhogg it was the most gratifying of little rebellions. He was chaos! He was unstoppable-

His head snapped back to Zoisite, abruptly registering everything else that it had said.

"Why talk? FIGHTING is better. TALKING is stupid," he said, but even as he spoke he was scurrying up one of the nearby ledges, and hanging from it to stare at Zoisite upside-down. Was it to speak with it on even, upside-down footing? Was it a mockery of the other's upside-down head? Most likely, Nidhogg had just felt, at that moment, like being upside-down and held too much pent-up energy not to act (as usual, really) on every little impulse. "Talking isn't worth words." Surprisingly poignant, perhaps, from the little one: no one had ever had anything worthwhile to say to it, before, but at least it was indulging the Zoisite, for now. Still, after a mention of 'fighting,' its eyes were darting over the half-grown grub's form as if considering a first attack.

"Old hot. Dry. BRIGHT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH." The scream this time was shrill, a pissed-off hateful little roar, a kaiju's intense sound of disapproval: apparently, Nidhogg had detested the confines of Tunnel P. It raced upside-down along its little ledge, pausing again in the black not-light.

It tried to consider Zoisite's question--it really did, if only briefly. But the question of which was better just sort of misfired its little brain. They both were not where it wanted to be. "Want FREE!" it hissed, a hateful sound yet again, directed at Zoisite as if this were somehow it's semi-sibling's fault.

Nidhogg stared at the upside-down grub.

Nidhogg looked out toward the Black Spire, where no Master was stomping over toward them.

Nidhogg looked, very intently, at the Aperture's exit.

Nidhogg then realized, in an abrupt flash of inspiration, that nobody was keeping it here. Not physically. There were threats, but he absolutely didn't care, and suddenly freedom was calling. The 'sorry' registered, and he looked back at Zoisite: manic with exhilarated realization, with the rush of adrenaline washing through him as he made his snap decision. "BYE," he told it, and bolted for the exit.

For Pegasus.

For freedom.

Upside-down.