Ping, ping, ping.
A stone being tossed between two hands. Soft, and pudgy, and in all the wrong proportions for a human child. The creature, the juvenile abomination, slipped through caves with one face pointing forwards and one looking back. With legs that moved at the wrong joints and came from the wrong places. Stalking intangible prey, each step a muffle, each breath a whisper, nothing but the neon stripes down her abdomen giving them away. A toxic warning sign. A future bloodbath.
But for now? They just wanted dye.
Sweet, sweet dye. Black and white and red. The word was a vaguely established concept in the children’s brains, and they wanted some. To look good, to dress up, to
Ping, ping, ping.
After passing through a winding room of grass and trees, Bee and Boy crept into a passageway of stone with nothing more than a few splinters. They hated splinters, especially
And most intriguing: the pulsating, jet stones on the other side.
Black gems create black dye. Black dye is dye they could use.
The black-and-yellow creatures, the Matthieu, skipped down on sore feet and broken limbs. Eyeing the cluster of crystals growing right over the Door with hundreds of childish eyes. As they neared Bee pushed them both up, wings fluttering, Boy reaching out to grab with his stubby fingers... and the 1.5 of them crashing down ungracefully with nothing in hand. Neither looked particularly upset by their failure, only disheveled. And surprised. They didn't expect to make so much noise.
A few seconds spent contemplating on the floor, and he pushed them back up to try again.
@V-Zoisite-One