ORIGIN - Parent Child Bonding Activities

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The beach had erupted into a mess of battling meat monstrosities, and it welcomed the noises and rapid movement that it witnessed with more eager screeching. So many claws and teeth—such a joyous event for it to be part of.

Blood from its injured leg dripped and created muddy red-brown splotches when it mingled with the sand. One set of claws abandoned the assault to encourage the mixture, stirring the ground to create a disgusting paint from its pain. It sketched a crude shape using the pretty color and chittered, delighted by its accomplishment in the midst of the pandemonium.

But its parent was silent. Unbelievably not at its limit, the screams raised to the pitch of a wailing siren. A needy creature, the lack of equally enthusiastic reciprocation to its attack or its impromptu artistic endeavor bothered it. Then the zing of agony in the crunched leg escalated to a howl as jaws tore from it and secured themselves on its sibling. Seemingly the love was to be evenly distributed.

This child was a demanding one though. Hampered by its wound and still inexperienced with walking, it launched itself forward with its back pair of legs, wings fluttering. Not wanting to be left for a second out of the fun, it struck out, no particular target in mind besides slimy flesh.

Screeching, screaming, blood. So much blood. Their fangs sinking into flesh for the first time, past red mucus, tasting that same fluid that spilled from that of its siblings, and were it any other scenario, it would be enjoying the taste of meat. So much viscera.

But its siblings are hurting, the creatures like it which it has only known for its first few moments but has still grown to love in familial instinct, and the creature before them that is not its mother is hurting them, and they are screaming so loud, the sound unbearable even when it pins its ears back, and it knows nothing other than the need to fight back.

Fight, fight, fight, rip and tear and get its not-mother off of its sibling, it's hurting so bad and Terror can hear it and it just wants everything to stop!

Already pressing close to its not-mother, magic surges in its chest at the emotion and spreads through its body, trying to reach the surface. To freeze, make cold; to make something stop, in a vague attempt to fix the situation the only way the newborn knows how. The only way it's been taught by its not-mother; fighting.

But the magic works against it—the magic spikes inward, not out. The magic builds and hurts and it is so cold, too cold, enough that it burns inside. Terror's jaws go numb and it falls away from the creature that is not its mother, struck thoughtless by the cold, shivering in the sand.

@Effluvium

Effluvium squealed in pain. Creosote's claws cut deep. Deep into the creature's skulls, scraping against bone. It jerked away, as best it could. And the squeal of pain morphed into a scream of rage. Karambit, forgotten by Effluvium joined the fray, tearing at its fragile flesh. It was under siege. The flesh upon its back stripped, the flesh upon its face stripped. And above it all, the feeling of itself being torn away. Only growing worse, and feeling growing worse the claws got to its core.

Effluvium roared now, angry. Its' eyes darted, trying to focus on one target, one thing it could attack. With three of them, the creature found it difficult to decide. The pain, the ripping and tearing, it almost reminded Effluvium of the bats. It screamed again, still enraged, but there was a note of discomfort, of fear to it now.

It snarled, unable to reach the gembound tearing at its sides. It heard the yelp of Terror, but it was unable to see past the blinding haze of pain. It wanted the pain to stop. It was no longer about food. It was about ending the pain. It attacked the first thing that came to mind. It wanted the child beneath it to stop tearing at its face. It leaned down, jaws open, and attempted to shake the child like some fleshy toy.

"When I speak."

When I think.

@Karambit
@Creosote
@Terror

It was a terrible rhythm. The screeching cries of pain and growls of rage. Claws slicing through flesh and scraping against bone. But It couldn't stop. It couldn't stop until the pain stop. Until the noises stopped. Until Everything stopped.

It was with a single-minded focus that it fought. It paid no mind to it's siblings- the screeching, joyful insectoid nor the freezing, weakened canine. It only smelled the tang of blood. Only saw the teeth of it's not-parent, teeth that sought to tear into it.

Teeth that snared around it like a beartrap, and desperately it screamed. Desperately it flailed, claws slashing and teeth snapping at anything it could reach. Anything that would loosen the not-parent's hold on it. Anything that'd let it be free.

But it couldn't. It's struggling only weakened it, only caused teeth to further piece it's flesh. It made a final, half-hearted swipe at it's attacker before going limp, letting itself be shook like a rag-doll.

I let my horns grow longer
I observed my skin get redder

The screams, a wondrous symphony, fell into a lull. So focused on obtaining the searing affection it craved, the creature did not first notice how its siblings had quieted. The animate buzzing of its wings and its shrieks were enough to deceive itself as to what the true situation was. For seconds still, it continued to be loud in glee, savoring the experience of claws parting flesh. Only when it twisted its body, scattering sand all over, did its eyes first catch sight of its prone canine sibling.

Its mandibles clacked with concern over the lack of activity. The breakneck pace of overexcited thoughts slowed considerably, quite the difference from the state of mind it had displayed since hatching. Now operating at a more ordinary level of energy, the other sibling was noticed too. Limp inside jaws, it did not fight back.

These observations made, it reached a conclusion no one else would make: its parent had worn its siblings out through the overwhelming power of love.

If it had not already been obvious, the creature was—to put things simply—stupid.

But there was no convincing it otherwise, at this time or perhaps any other time. Since its siblings were taking a break from the family bonding, it had little reason not to continue its assault. The moment of almost thoughtfulness had passed, and eager murderous tendencies returned with a vengeance. Joy renewed, its wings finally fluttered hard enough to begin lifting its gangly body off the ground.

Airborne at last, if only somewhat, its claws lashed out again for purchase.

It lies limp among the sand, watching the combat with bleary eyes, ice still feeling like it's piercing its paws. It hurts. Not so much physically—the cold is receding, now, after only one cast—but… inside. Emotionally. It can't help but watch as the shambling beast of meat and flesh roars, an awful, angry thing with no love. No light.

Jaws open and shut with a resounding snap, the sound muffled by flesh. One of its siblings cries out—it screams, high and rough, a crescendo that splits the air, and its eyes go wide.

No—

There's the barest of struggles, before it goes limp in the other's jaws, and adrenaline surges through the terror's veins like acid.

It roars. Defiance in its own right; it shoves itself to its feet in the sand and pours all its anger and fear and despair for its sibling, the sibling in its jaws that isn't moving, that, to its own eyes, is dead.

Screaming a wordless challenge, it charges forward, heads down and muzzles all bared in a snarl as it attempts to inflict a nasty bruise on the thing that hurt its hatchmate.

@Effluvium

Effluvium's spawn crashed against it. Yet for whaever reason, it did not notice them. Karambit's claws crashed against its mucus slickened back, and Terror's charge failed to draw either its ire or its pain. Effluvium, emboldened by the lack of pain, made another move. It was not wont to stay, not with so many things assaulting it. But the thing in its jaws had gone limp. It had a moment of clarity, no pain.

This encounter had reached its terminus. It would take its trophy, its meal for the flesh lost, and then it would leave. Effluvium dropped the limp form of Creosote. Creosote's respite was not for long, however. Effluvium would attempt to take one of the newborn's limbs in its maw, and pull.

Thankfully for Creosote, Effluvium could not find a grip. It was too distracted to do so. There was too much going on around the predator. Effluvium backed away from the limp form of Creosote. If it could not take its trophy here, it'd find some other thing to devour. Effluvium was done with the encounter, with the prey that both worked together and was hard to eat. It wanted out.

"When I speak."

When I think.

@Terror
@Karambit
@Creosote

It hurt it hurt it hurt hurt hurt HURT HURT HURT

It was weak, and it was only getting weaker. It was hurt, and it was only getting even more hurt. And it was so, so scared. It's struggling had only hurt it, before, but it needed it to stop. Everything needed to stop. It wanted to be safe, like it had been all curled up tight within it's chrysalis.

A feeling quite literally burned through it. Anger? Fear? or the mindless instinct of something trapped and helpless? Whatever it was, it was something. But it ended just as quickly had it began, leaving behind nothing more than the notion something should've happened, though what it did not know.

Luckily for it, it's not-parent had evidentially gotten bored of it's chew toy. It was discarded haphazardly onto the sandy ground, and for a moment it did not move at all. It managed to push itself up, using it's wings as extra support. Sand clung to it as it struggled to flee, getting a couple of feet away before exhaustion dragged it to the floor once more.

I let my horns grow longer
I observed my skin get redder

One of their siblings—drops. Its little sibling, caught and crushed between fang and jaw, is finally left limp on the sandy floor.

For once, bloodlust takes a backseat to protectiveness. Anger boils up to fuel not physical combat, but instead protective action.

They shove away from the lump of meat and flesh that was supposed to be their mother and turn towards the form of their sibling, just in time to see it collapse into the sand before them.

A wordless, discordant whine tears from their mouths. Their other sibling, the one buzzing eagerly in mid-air, seems to be kind of okay, and they make a split-second decision. Trusting in it to fend the beast off, to attack it where the pup cannot, they dart towards the collapsed figure upon the beach, the scent of blood so heavy in their nose that they can't smell anything else.

Whining, a sniffling canid nose pushes against their sibling's back, their many eyes wide and filled—for once—with utter worry.

"Get up," they whimper, terrified that somehow the beast behind them has torn at their sibling too much. Terrified that they'll never get up again. "Get up!"

@Karambit

Fracture my spine

Continuing to prove itself the oblivious one of the revolting meat brood, no amount of significant devastation accompanied its failure. In hindsight, once the allure of inflicting pain diminished, perhaps the event might be looked back upon with more interest in its siblings' current plight. For this moment, though, its thoughts remained ever singular, determined as the unfailing buzz that rattled its body.

"Krrrmmm." The meaningless sound was no different from any other it produced and just as persistent. "Krrrrmmmm."

Attention. Love, oozing forth like blood from a gaping wound. Acknowledge its shrill cries, parent!

A beginner to the wonders of flight, it flailed above, loud and frenzied. Two particularly high-pitched shrieks rang out, one on the next downward swing of claws and the other in the aftermath, regardless of outcome.

Why did it seem like its parent was trying to leave? It couldn't! Not when there was still so much fun to have!

No matter what it tried, the creature would be too weak in its juvenile form to have any staying power, legs fragile and grip strength easily sapped by any resistance.

And swear that you're mine

@Effluvium

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