ORIGIN

V-Zoisite-One had trouble figuring out when they were supposed to... When it would be okay to... When it would be appropriate, to interrupt their mother-- Overseer. It was their Overseer. Zoisite passed the time by summoning different orbs of light, and checking on the gifts present in their bristles and quills. They had managed to summon a small speck of light that drifted around themself without having to direct it: a little golden star that drifted about them.

Eventually, however, they nothice that the Orthoclase was in between sleeping and dealing with the others. Pacing? They had given their flowers out to the others when they had the chance, but a few remained. Its mother Overseer was one of them, and the one that weighed most heavily on their mind.

Still apprehensive, the Zoisite's approach was not done in a particularly graceful way. They held their head up at an awkward angle to watch the tank as they approached, their feet stomping with the heaviness of their new size... still, not even half the height of their Overseer. Their molts had slowed, and they realized they would always be... Smaller, more insignificant. They towered over creatures like Oliver, but they were squished, malformed. Nearly as deadly, (...), but clumsy. It showed in the way they hustled up to the Overseer.

"Overseer," mandibles clicked for its attention. Now was not the time for self-pitying, regardless. They stuffed that down, instead their eyes glowed with intense focus. They did not often have reason to bother the Orthoclase... often, its time was preoccupied. Hopefully this was a good time, where they only interrupted mindless pacing that seemed to have no point. "Have a moment?" Their quills rattled with anticipation.

They still did not know how the Orthoclase would react. They... They needed to do this, no matter what the reaction would be. It was important, even if they felt their limbs locking up as they garnered the full attention of their--...

The heavy, almost-empty stare of the Overseer locked upon the smaller kaiju, and the response made every joint in their limbs feel tight. They lowered their head, their eyes shielding from the stare as they took on the more natural pose. Their quills quieted, hushing as the importance of the moment weighed on them like the whole world depended on this one, small interaction.

"I brought you something," the Zoisite said simply, raising a single limb and twisting their talons inward to brush through their fur and quills. They found among the fuchsia the single delicate flower that they had plucked for their-- for the-- for the Orthoclase. Their magic clung to it, keeping it as perfect as it had been the day they had clipped it from the field of wildflowers. It was still quite fragile, and so the Zoisite held it about the stem, gingerly tugging it free from beneath the nestle of quills.

They raised it out toward the Overseer, craning their head back once more to meet the larger six-legged kaiju with a stiff silence. Their gift was a curious thing: a blossoming flower that was off-white in color, with hundreds of long, pointed petals that turned almost a sickly yellow green toward the core. It had a look of a bushy mane of quills, but it was still a soft, pretty little thing. They had no idea what the Orthoclase would think of it and they did not dare say anything else until the Overseer reacted.

The flower had no purpose. It had meaning, certainly, but it was not food, nor was it anything that the Overseer could use. It was simply a beautiful thing that made them think of their-- the Overseer-- and was that something that it would resonate with? Already, the Zoisite felt foolish the moment they held the flower aloft for the Overseer to see.

@orthoclase-alpha has been given a preserved:
BRISTLY OFF-WHITE FLOWER

Unfortunately for the child, desperately staring in wait for reaction, they were given nothing for ages. Zoisite remained still. Together, one could have made a painting in the stillness of the moment and given it a title, perhaps sold it, before finally the Orthoclase offered them a sentence.

A question.

One that the Zoisite did not know how to answer. It was a feeling, one that they desired to rip from their chest and present to their-- to the Overseer, so that it could take it, destroy it, or understand (how it longed for the later above all else). Still, they could not leave their m-- the Orthoclase without an answer, and so the flower was delicately set before the Overseer's feet.

Zoisite's head remained low there, this time not leaning back to peer up at the oppressive glow of a judgmental(?) stare. "It is a flower," V-Zoisite-One clicked firstly, to fill the air while their thoughts whirred for words. "I found it in Pegasus." More filler. "There were so many flowers, and they were beautiful... This represents you," their voice lowered, shying as they shamefully tried to paint the picture. "I put magic in it, so it won't die."

It was not enough to explain the vast meaning, but the Zoisite simply did not know how to say anymore. They could try to put together more words, a deeper explanation, but there was a level of the feeling behind the gesture that was... decidedly inappropriate. Overseer Orthoclase-Alpha was not their mother, and so any further suggestion to the familial aspect of their reasoning and-- and everything else, words would not do justice and would only, certainly, serve to vex the Overseer.