ORIGIN - Stop eating your veggies!

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They found themself in a constant state of hunger- another 'gift' bestowed upon them by their lifegiver.

They were eating now- grabbing clawfuls of whatever plants looked edible, and even those that didn't. Their strongest jaws crunched through twigs and small branches, while the less developed ones munched on leaves. Occasionally they accidentally grabbed a clawful of dirt, which they still ate without complaint. Anything to stop the hunger pangs.

They saw the things it's siblings ate- Terror favored fish, but they each caught whatever they could. Some unrecognizable, bloodied things- usually courtesy of Karambit. They saw them catch those things too, sometimes- though usually at a distance for fear of scaring off the food. Creosote themself refused to hunt- though they'd eat any leftovers or anything offered to them. But they didn't want to hunt. They didn't want to hurt.

They didn't want to be like it's 'parent.'

They didn't want to hurt like it had hurt, so indiscriminate and uncaring. They didn't want to be what They deemed a monster- despite being quite monstrous themself. Despite their siblings being equally or more monstrous. They weren't monsters, they were family. Their parent wasn't family, because it was a monster.

They sat, some distance from the shoreline of Leo where the plantlife began to thicken. They were sitting cross-legged, and looked especially childish in a warped, monstrous sort of way. If not for the many eyes, and misplaced teeth, and shrunken, extra limbs, and foul-smelling mucus, they might've been considered cute. It's countless number of eyes stared at the ground- watching the bugs mill about and looking for more things to eat. One hand held a particularly large branch, which they idly gnawed on, occasionally changing which set jaws did the gnawing. The other sunk into the dirt, wiggling it's fingers under the soil. They didn't seem particular aware of their surroundings, more focused on the bugs and dirt and twigs than anything else.

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

@Terror

(This thread is AW but beware you'll likely be hunted by Terror and possibly Creosote. Also, this thread had been backdated back to when both are 1 cycle old)

Creosote isn't eating right.

In their personal opinion, anyway. But they've seen how much their little sibling eats, and they've thought about it a long while (usually while lurking in Leo's bay, crushing fish bones between their teeth), and it isn't right. Creosote is like them. They need meat.

But they don't eat meat. And for a while, they didn't understand why.

Until they were eating their own meal (of fish, again) and swimming around and they realized, with a start, the obvious answer.

Oh. Of course.

Creo doesn't know how to hunt.

And Terror can't allow that. Not hunting means that he'll be stuck eating nasty, icky plants for the rest of his life. More importantly: not hunting means that he won't know how to hurt other things.

And in Terror's mind, hurting other things is one of the most important things a creature of any age needs to know.

Thus, what they're doing now. Staying low to the ground, dragging themselves through the dirt… trying to sneak up on their baby sibling.

( yes, they were technically the same age. no, Terror didn't care )

Closer, closer… looking down at the ground, careful not to step on any twigs. Sneaking on land is so much different from sneaking in the water. Heavier. More focused on sound than movement. But any moment now, they'd be close enough to touch Creosote. Any moment now…

Snap.

The crack of a twig is loud and incredibly noticeable, and Terror's ears twitch at the sound. Damn it—they were just looking in that spot, they swear!

Oh well. They can teach their lesson later. For now...

"Hello, sibling." Terror's voice is growling, rough, but there's a childlike softness to it. There, too, is an unmistakable fondness; it hasn't seen their sibling in a little while, busy lurking in the bay and licking its wounds.

Despite everything, it missed them.

@Creosote

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Creosote didn't have the problem Terror did with plants- they were hardly picky, occasionally eating things they probably definitely shouldn't. Maybe they just didn't know what they were missing out on. Maybe it was the hunger.

It was definitely their aversion to fighting.

It was borderline a phobia, their fear of violence and the lengths they’d go to avoid it. Avoiding anything big. Avoiding anything with sharp claws or teeth. Avoiding nearly everything, but the harmless bugs and rabbits and mice. Avoiding eating meat, even though they needed it. Avoiding fighting in any circumstances except self-defense. And even then- could it fight? After all, practice made perfect, and Creosote avoided any opportunity to practice fighting like the plague.

Their attention was caught by a sharp Snap!

They whipped around, just to come face-to-face with their canine sibling. Their 'snack' quickly forgotten, they stood up, many grins splitting their face. Oh! It’d been so long since they had seen them!

"Hello!" Came a joyful, discordant call from their many mouths. They lumbered forward to give their sibling a playful headbutt- Surprisingly gentle for such a beast. "Hi! Hello!" They were practically wiggling with excited happiness, like a very strange dog.

“Where were you?” They fell back, giving back their sibling’s personal space. Unlike it’s sibling, it was overly abundant how much they missed them. It’s wings flutter excited behind it- it couldn’t fly very well at all, but the wings were rather useful for expression.

“Wanna play?” It’s mouths split into big, puppyish grins. “Chase! Or…” They trailed off, realizing they didn’t actually know that many games. Still, they stared expectantly at Terror, waiting with barely contained excitement for an answer.

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

@Terror

Oh, to be a pigeon on a beach.

The only thing that could be missing from this idyllic scene would have to be a crowd of humans to toss bread and pieces of sandwiches to her to eat. And there would be no seagulls to steal from her! Since this particular pigeon had never experienced San Francisco's piers for herself, Leo's shore was, to her, the best place she'd ever been, even without the sandwich scraps.

She bobbed along, pecking at what seemed to be random bits of sand and rock. There were seeds hidden here, and the occasional lucky (for her, not for them) worm. She noticed, but was not particularly concerned about, the monster siblings some hundred meters away. She was a Greater Gembound, after all, so she should have nothing to fear. Life was good.

The sound of affection that rolls out of Terror's mouth is about as akin to a purr as the sound of a trash compactor. Still, beyond the roiling, growl-y noise that escapes their maws as they push forward, gently headbutting their sibling back, is the unmistakable sound of love.

They love their sibling. They love the gembound they hatched with, and everything about them.

That's why it's going to teach them how to hunt today. For love. And because, one day, they might not be around to catch fish for them, or one day it'll be hurt, and Creosote will have to catch fish for them, instead.

"In the bay," it responds, the tail at its back wagging despite itself. In another time, maybe it would go on about the fish it saw; the ones of many colors, and that one purple one that looked like it was covered in sparkles, but got away before Terror could crush it between its jaws and examine the remains.

Maybe later. It has something far more important on its mind right now.

"I know a game we can play, dear sibling," Terror starts, lifting its head to look around. There! Without a care in the world, practically delivered to them—a bird, hopping about on the beach.

Hm. Those wings will be a challenge… but Terror's not one to pass up potential prey.

Eyes still set on the pigeon, it lowers its voice to a murmur, making sure the sound won't startle the prey. "It's called… "Hunt." You see that bird, there? We'll sneak up on it and kill it."

A pause, for effect. "It'll make a good snack, once we get past the feathers."

@Creosote @Crescendo (visibility!)

Creosote in turn made a gurgling, growling, rumbling sound that you'd expect to hear from a lion slowly turning into pudding. It smiled as Terror returned their affection. If only Karambit was here, then they'd all be together, again!

"The bay." It echoed. The bay was Terror's domain, not Creosote's. Technically, they could swim, but it was clumsy and flailing and always scared away all the fish. They didn't mind much, though. Dry land was far more preferable. But maybe if I could swim, I'd get to see Terror more often. It was a nice thought, but it didn't matter much at the moment. Because right now, Terror was here!

Creosote would've told about what it saw, if it'd saw much of anything. It mostly saw green- the leaves of the lush greenery that grew further from the shores. Occasional, a brave lesser- a rabbit or mouse or (usually) some sort of bug. It felt the wind that rustled through the leaves, and the droplets that dripped from the often-damp vegetation. It wasn't exciting by any means, but it was calm, and nice in it's own right. Terror liked exciting, though. Terror liked to run and swim and chase. So surely they'd get to play! Something involving running or swimming or chasing!

Game! Game! They'd be playing a gam-

Oh.

"Hu-nt." It's voice was equally soft, instinctively mimicking Terror though they didn't quite realize why.

It's eyes flickered from the bird, over to Terror, and back again. It's expression was harder to read than a gembound with a 'normal' face, but even still, it was clearly hesitant. Hunting means killing. Killing means fighting and fighting means hurt. Hurt is bad. But.. Terror said it was a game, and games are good. Terror is good. Maybe the bird was too small to hurt them, like the not-parent had. Maybe it'd be fine.

"Yes.. Lets hunt." It said, finally. "You go first." It stood back, watching intently, waiting for Terror to make the first move.

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

@Terror

Well—the beast is more than happy to provide an example for their little sibling.

Just to show Creosote how they're supposed to do it. After all, it's certain they haven't had many other examples. Maybe from Karambit, but even then their brother is quite...

...messy.

Not that they're any better, they reflect with a note of amusement.

Creosote gets a nod and something along the lines of a soft, growly affirming sound, before they turn their attention back to the prey at hand.

A bird. They've never actually hunted a bird before. The thing that concerns them the most are the thing's wings—how fast can it take off? How fast can it fly? Terror's no good at range; they don't have any spells to fight like that.

Hm.

The only option, they think, is to strike quick and fast. Fast enough that the bird has no response before it's already there.

They sink into a low crouch, eyes focused on the bird. It'll be a distance to run...

A challenging grin splits their maws.

All the more reason to excel in front of their sibling, yes?

Amalgamated head set forward, they burst into a sprint, trying to charge into the bird full force and knock it off balance. Bruise its wing so it struggles to escape—then finish the job.

@Crescendo @Creosote (visibility!)

A sudden commotion caught her attention, and Crescendo turned an alarmed look on the charging monstrosity. Oh Caves, it's coming towards ME--! Sentient and therefore theoretically uneatable or not, the pigeon still felt her prey instinct kick in, and there had to be no other explanation for the sudden rush but impending doom.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--" she shrieked, jumping into the air and flapping her wings frantically. Away from the monster she went! Off to live another day, in a safer place away from merciless, uncaring jaws. "I CAN TALK! JERK!" she yelled as she fled, for good measure.

@Creosote

It returned the nod with one of it's own- though far less sure. But this was a game! This was good! Nevermind the fact it was hunting. Nevermind the fact it was hurting.

Nevermind all of that.

It watched Terror watch the bird. Watched everything it did. It mimicked their stance the best it could, sinking into something akin to a crouch. It's eyes kept shifting from Terror to the bird, and back again. Waiting for the sign to go- the sign to hunt.

The bird was taking flight- but they had wings too, didn't they? Never mind the fact they could barely fly. they didn't *need* to fly, if they were lucky. If they were lucky, they could hit the bird right out of the sky. Win the game. Make Terror happy.

It was just a game. A fun hunting game.

Moving uncharacteristically fast, they ran after their sibling. And then, they leapt- wings pumping, trying to gain height. If they managed to get close they'd swipe wildly at the bird, trying desperately to hit it.

But it missed by a mile, it's strikes hitting nothing but air. Some part of it felt relief- looks like their 'game' had to wait another day. The other was disappointing- it had failed it's sibling, after all. It landed heavily in the sand, watching wordlessly as the loud-mouthed pigeon flew off. It didn't respond to their indignant yelling- it didn't know what being able to talk had to do with any part of this, at all.

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

@Terror @Crescendo

A huff of frustration rolls out of aberrant jaws as the beast of the depths charges towards its target and decidedly misses. Creosote is a little better—and they watch with admiring eyes at the speed its little sibling manages to attain in an attempt to knock the bird out of the sky, wings buzzing frenetically, but in the end, the bird is simply too fast for the both of them.

Damn birds. Damn wings.

They watch the bird fly into the distance with a silent snarl plastered on their jaws, heart pumping with hunting instinct and bloodlust but unable to do anything but watch. No magic to fight at range, no ability to attack from a distance meant that Terror was effectively useless against such a winged enemy.

Their eyes shift back to Creosote, and they take a deep, deep breath, trying to reign in their temper. It's not like their sibling had failed. If anything, they had startled the bird first, with that miss.

Oh well. This… this can still be a teaching opportunity, right?

Yeah. They think they can salvage something out of this. And then they'll go find better prey; some unsuspecting animal elsewhere on the beach, or maybe hunting in the shallows, so Terror can at least show their sibling what real food is.

They know Creo can't live off of plants forever.

For now…

"Good try," they praise, in that growling voice of theirs. "You got closer than I did—I think that means you win this round."

A step to the side, and then they're giving their sibling an affectionate nudge for their efforts. "Even if you don't get one the first time, you can always try again later," they tell them. "There's always more prey to be found, if you know where to look."

Hm. They'll have to teach their sibling how to track later, they think. That's also important to hunting. Plants are easy to find. They just stay there in one place until some dumb deer or something comes along to munch on them. But meat?

That's where the real fun lies.

"We should play some more," they continue. "Perhaps in the shallows of the bay? Or would you prefer to continue hunting on land?"

As much as Terror would prefer the shallows themselves, they understand that their sibling is more of the land-dwelling type. If they have to hunt in their weakest environment in order to teach Creosote properly, then that's just what they'll do.

;exit into fade to black

@Creosote

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