ORIGIN

Adeyemi clucked in amusement at the foal's gesture, eyeing the green gem once more with an appraising eye. The turaco opened his mouth to speak - but the words quickly became a surprised squawk when the white beast moved, appearing to awaken from whatever state she'd fallen into. Looking quite a bit like an angry ball of fluff, the chick huffed, smoothing down his feathers with a click of his beak.

His companion's words, along with the gentle touch to the back of his head, brought the prince back to the present, coughing nervously and straightening up with a rustle of feathers. "But of course," Adeyemi murmured, fluffing up his crest and sending the owlet a grateful glance. "I don't suppose any of you know how to treat the sick?" The query was soft and hesitant, rather unlike the turaco, but he only felt comfortable around the owl and the foal, and continued to glare at the others, only softening his gaze when it landed on Willow or Delphine.

Booker jumped when Magdalena awoke, though the gentle affectionate nuzzles from both of his equine friends helped to soothe the numbat, keeping his mind in the present and warding off any panic that may have begun to rear its ugly head. When Delphine turned to stare at him, Booker smiled at her, patting the foal's leg before turning to his ill friend, leaning over to place a tiny paw on the dog's chest, breathing out a sigh of relief - she was breathing, which was the most important thing. It had a bit of a rattle, a wheeze, but it didn't stumble over itself, like he'd seen dying rats do. Sick, but not deathly. Labored breathing.

Silently, he added confusion to the list, considering she had yet to speak. The tiny Gembound shot the flashier bird a disgruntled glance at the question, unused to his sort of attitude - combative and hesitant in turn. Deciding to ignore the foul fowl for now, Booker focused on Magdalena, humming under his breath. Exhaustion? Dizziness, nausea, or both... Finally, pondering complete, he spoke, voice even but, as always, squeaky. "Magda, are you all-right? You kinda... collapsed."

Khloros peered gently at Booker, listening to his murmuring, his busy demeanor. He spoke back, softly.

"Can we bring her... Water? Or--to water...?" It seemed to him that if she were tired, feverish even, that maybe cool wet would be the right way to go.

He snorted gently, and--not having much else to say--simply remained folded on the rock, looking between the others in unobtrusive silence.

I don't know most of these strangers. I hope they're friendly. I wonder why they're all gathered here? What will I do if they attack us? If they attack Booker, or the white dog...?

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

Still laying on the ground, legs splayed out at her sides and her head rested wearily against the dirt and dust, all Magdalena could do was focus on the steady beating of her heart. Her eyes, once peeled open, had slowly drifted closed again though there was no reason for those straw coloured eyes of hers to remain revealed - she stared blindly forward, listening to the rustling of feet all around her and quiet voices that murmured to one another. The first she'd heard was a gentle, childish voice, quietly prodding the air with her name, Magda. Two voices spoke hushedly to one another; she could barely make out the words, only that they spoke to each other. Finally, a closer voice, concerned for her and high in volume as he implored of her health. The dog blinked now, slowly raising her head and swaying it before her nose eventually pointed towards Booker.

A final voice asked about water, and in that moment, Magdalena had realized how dry her throat was. She pursed her lips and swallowed, but it was rough against her throat, and her tongue rasped against the roof of her mouth. She winced at the feeling; thirsty. She needed to get water, but more than that, she needed to escape. "I am fine." The dog croaked, typically seamless voice hoarse with the dryness of her throat. Magdalena clenched her jaw behind her lips and folded her limbs, rolling slowly onto her stomach. In an attempt to elevate herself from the ground, her legs wobbled and she faltered, her only relief being able to lean against the sickly plague horse and catch herself. Her head shifted and her eyes sightlessly searched for the young one, Delphine. Her scent was fresh and nubile, a stark difference from the dusty and dry smell that most of the others wore.

When Magdalena had at long last fumbled to her paws, she bent her head down towards Booker. "I apologize." Her tone was weak, but it was brisk and prim, fighting through the crackling of her throat. Then she isolated the smell of the young horse, Delphine, and her muzzle drifted in her direction, stopping just a little bit past the horse as she stared into the wall behind her. Her lips parted as if hinging on a farewell, but the dog couldn't find the right words. What was she to say to the child, another apology? An explanation? An excuse for her foolish attempts? None of them would do justice to the whirling, confusing twister of disappointment within her. Magdalena only smiled at her before turning her head away. Carefully she padded around, lightly bumping into the sickly horse and stepping over Booker, long legs carrying her away with the grace of a shaken stork. She needed to find somewhere to rest - more importantly, she needed water.

Good-bye's were a strange thing, especially when it hung in the silence even after they'd left. At least that's how it'd felt for Delphine when Magdalena woke from her stupor and just as wordlessly, departed. The smile did little to salve the ache in her heart. Most of which, she imagined, stemmed from her lack of understanding as to what had happened and why events unfurled the way it had. Her child-like adoration birthed a newer sensation, one that left her feeling hollowed in the absence of the Gembound who she first saw.

She stood, head lowered and ears flattened. It had not been her intention to display, in full view, what troubled her but she was too young to understand what it meant to lie or pretend that all was well. With hooded eyes, Delphine glanced to Booker and Khloros before seeking consolation in the one who'd been the most expressive of them all, Adeyemi. Unknowingly, she'd become dependent on the consolation that others had to offer, so much so that even to the owl did she pray for something more. While it was not a notion that plagued her conscious thoughts, she knew that this was a weakness, a vulnerability that marred her character yet she could not help her sensibilities. Just as she knew that Magdalena would not have wanted for her to follow.

Suddenly she was lost and confused. Wrought with a hesitance that made her second-doubt her desire to seek physical comfort where it normally would have lent her strength. What if Booker and Khloros left too? The young filly backpedaled, her hooves dancing shakily along the cavern grounds. Anxiety suffocated her, playing marionette to a visceral need to stomp away the tingle that coursed through her body. Something was happening and for a moment, she tasted the earth on her tongue, could smell the water as if she'd been drowned within it and saw... Just like that, the sensation dissipated to nothingness. A wave that piqued but never quite fell. Her legs quaked and her ears flattened against her crown, this time from fear of the unknown rather than loss.

( @Willow )

And just like that, the sick beast was gone, ambling off to parts unknown... which suited Adeyemi just fine. The turaco relaxed more and more with every step the ill dog took, and when she was out of sight, he let out a soft coo of relief, fluffing up his feathers in contentment. He turned to, most likely, say something utterly offensive - and was stopped by a gentle nudge from his feathered friend, who took only a moment to spread her wings and fly.

The prince had never seemed to get over just how incredible flight looked, how seamlessly those of the beak and claw took to the skies... all except for him, of course. No matter how hard he flapped his stumpy wings, they refused to do much. Even now, as he concentrated, he only managed to glide a few inches before flopping back down to the hard earth with a disheartened squawk. Getting up from the floor with a rustle of wings and an irritated snick of talons sharpening on rock, Adeyemi waddled the rest of the way to Delphine and Willow.

"No need to worry, little one," he murmured, eyeing Willow's perch enviously before turning his attention back to the obviously perturbed foal. "As the red-rat says, I am sure she will be fine, yes?" A dismissive glance was shot towards Booker, before the fowl continued. "And this is only the beginning of your life, once I am sure will be full of glory and strength, yes." A sage nod, and as close to a grin as a bird could give. "After all, you have already met two of the strongest Gembounds in this wretched place, yes?"

Booker flinched when Magdalena's head suddenly swiveled to peer sightlessly at him, and the numbat's ears flicked forward, sure she was about to fill him in on whatever had happened to her. Instead, the dog insisted she was fine, stubbornly rising to four paws, ignoring Booker's agitated huffs and puffed up fur. The whole thing looked like a recipe for disaster in his eyes, considering how she'd simply collapsed before. Still, the numbat stopped mumbling out his frustrations when she turned to stare at him once more. I apologize.

The tiny Gembound froze, head tilting to one side, confusion furrowing his brow. Before he could ask for what? she was off, padding away on shaking legs. Booker simply sat, feeling anchored to the ground, staring blankly off after his friend. Only Delphine's distress awoke him from the daze, and he shook himself, turning to scamper a bit closer to Khloros, silently leaning against the pitch-black foal, both taking and giving support. Considering the birds to have the situation under control, Booker simply watched in silence, absently resting his tiny chin on Khloros' front leg, stuck in his own thoughts.

Khloros remained where he was, folded on the ground. He was a background shadow to the goings-on; he didn't know any of the strangers, and wasn't wholly comfortable speaking. He was glad, though, when the white dog stood and walked off, and he hoped she would go for water.

He was glad, too, when Booker leaned on him, and he gently nudged at and snuffled the numbat before swinging his head to peer at Delphine, for a few moments. She still reminded him of him, of home, of kindred spirits, but she seemed troubled, and the others' noisy movements and words distracted him from doing anything other than slowly shifting his attention between them.

The black foal started to ask Booker if they should leave, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed the other black foal trembling, her ears pinned. He stared, for a moment, then softly blurted his thoughts, worried.

"Are you scared, too?" he asked quietly.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

The silent avian creature, the one she least expected anything from, was the first to come to her side. Her small but sured warmth spreading along her back like a perennial bloom, a conscious dreamcatcher who stole away with the inexplicable tension that'd built in Magdalena's absence. It was a transgression that passed in mere seconds but to her, it felt like hours, hours that dragged and crawled over itself so that her own perception of time was askew. She must have seemed silly, a clingy child that latched onto any and all safe harbor.

Delphine stilled, willing her breaths to a slow as a soft trill sounded from above, not too soon accompanied by that of Adeyemi's. Her gaze flickered to the vibrant bird yet the question to stir her from within was that of the pale Gembound's.

Upset.

She was upset but how could she explain the reason where words failed to achieve some such measure? Her mouth opened and closed, frustration welling in the silence that perpetuated because she simply did not know how to respond. Then the knowledge came, its most basic utterance unfurling from her tongue and passing through her lips. "Delphine..." She paused and her head swayed, as if the motion would boggle her innate knowledge of language to wake. "W-Wrong?" Her attention shifted to where the dog had left and her brows furrowed. "Magda. Go."

Her heart ached dully; a festering wound salved with another question from the most soft-spoken of them all. She looked to Khloros and if she could cry, she would have. "Sc... Scared." She echoed the word, knowing that that was the most appropriate response she could offer before elaborating in a way that resembled a broken record. "Leave Del-... Me? You?" Her speech was a cipher but to Delphine, it was clear as day. She was terrified that they would leave her too. Abandon her in this place where she'd first woken to love and warmth. Her most selfish thought, in that moment, had been that it'd been better if she'd woken to nothing than to be left with a mere taste of affection.

( @Willow )