ORIGIN

It started with darkness. An abyss that was warmth and security. A blackness that was all that she knew and she didn't mind so much this comfort that'd become her limbo. She worshipped this space where she was but an entity without corporeal form. It could have been enough. Until it wasn't.

It started with a light. A dim emerald glow that penetrated the umbra haze and hummed its slow, rhythmic beat. She was fascinated, drawn like moth to flame to this alien sensation that breathed energy and vigor to her soul. Just a taste along her flesh and no longer was the beckon of darkness so inviting. Her desire swelled for more and with it, her world became a kaleidoscope of rock and fauna, earthy hues that reaped the breath from her throat and left her quivering for more.

She arched.

She stretched.


Curiosity fueled desperation. Her appetite, insatiable.

So she twisted, curled and pushed against the walls of her confinement -- will forged of iron and stone -- until her jade prison ruptured and with it, the gembound came tumbling to the floor.

It started with Delphine. Her first breath. Her first sight. The very first moment when her heart beat.

After Khloros' mad dash from the center of Polaris, Booker had caught up and settled onto the foal's back, watching as the world passed by. He hadn't heard what, exactly, had caught his friend's attention, but the numbat figured it had to be important. Sure enough, as the duo drew closer to the sound, a figure emerged from the darkness, taking shape - make that two, Booker amended, peering at the blurry shapes. When they came into focus, he gasped, struck still.

"Magda!" The squeak was high and joyful, and Booker scrambled down Khloros' flank, scurrying to the floor and trotting closer to the dog and what appeared to be a newborn Gembound. It was the second time he'd come across a newborn, and he still didn't quite know how to act around them - so he slowed his gait, padding along the cave floor softly, whiskers twitching as he reached the pair.

He shot a happy grin at Magdalena, ears twitching. "'m glad you're okay! I hadn't seen ya since..." Well, she knew when they'd last met, and he stopped himself before he went off on a tangent, embarrassed. Turning to peer at the newborn, he smiled gently, snuffling it with a long, thin snout. "Welcome to Polaris, little one! You're in good com-pan-ee," he promised, looking back over his shoulder at Khloros with a pleased chirp.

His exuberant (if weakly clumsy) trot abruptly slowed as shapes materialized in the dimly-glowing darkness ahead. Khloros had been, until now, without shame--yet suddenly he remembered the words of the peryton, murmured in his ears. That he was different. Strange. That horses were not meant to be so bony.

And here, before him, there was an example of a true horse: filled-out, bright, her eyes green--like his--but as Rafael had said, not glowing. He paused, letting Booker run ahead, and for a long moment he simply watched from the shadows, silent. He might have been nigh-on invisible bar his pale, glowing eyes.

Finally, hesitantly--shyly--he approached. At least, he felt shy; he might have looked rather ominous, a skeletal young black spectre drifting toward the group with glowing discs where eyes should be. His hooves clicked softly until he was several yards away, and then he paused, glancing uneasily between the beautiful, elegant white dog and the folded black foal so like himself.

And so different.

He took another, hesitant step closer. Then another.

Finally, he extended his long, overly-skinny neck to sniff wide-eyed at the other black foal, too much in awe to speak, at first. Then--quietly--

"...Hello. I am Khloros."

Then he froze, his glowing eyes going to the white dog, afraid. Would the strange but elegant creature attack him? Would the other horse fear his appearance...? Surely the other foal was afraid, as he had been, being newly-born. Maybe he could help.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

For a while, she'd simply curled her spindly legs beneath her body, ignorant of the mucus that clung to her. How could she when this fascinating world lay before her with its dim blue glow and an energy that thrummed with a life of its own? She was a child too enamored by the unknown and in rapture was her attention shifted to the presence, pale and angelic, that drifted from the still blue. A union of the heavens and midnight skies.

'Finis originae pende.'
Her lips parted as if to mirror the creature's sweet lull but silence prevailed and the air caught in her throat. Disappointment pressed her ears against her crown and for a moment, she reeled in her failure. A moment too soon swallowed by child-like curiosity, urging the newborn to her feet on quaking legs and wayward stumbles.

What seemed an eternity was but minutes spent in a quest to bridge the short distance between them, punctuated by instances where she was certain her face would come to know the floors before she would any living, breathing entity. Though when at last Delphine came close, her frail neck extended and with tentative wonderment, she made to brush her muzzle against the fair creature. Bewitched, no doubt, by the very first living, breathing to grace her birthing. So came the small bump, timid yet affectionate, before she pulled back with a gentle whicker.

The peace was not to last when a shrill squeak pierced their silent exchange and all but shredded what precious balance she'd won with a jump and whinny of her own. Gracelessly, Delphine collapsed on paper-legs and once more, her ears flattened. She should have felt embarrassed that a creature so small had scared her so but try as she might, the paralysis did not wane until the small one made to sniff her and she, too inquisitive to stop, returned the gesture.

'Polaris.'
One after another they came and before she could fully wrap her mind around the gembounds already by her side, a frail, sickly foal stepped forth from the shadows. Her emerald gaze drifted to his glowing eyes and with renewed interest, Delphine watched with a canter of her head. What should have been fright was an unending desire to know all that'd come and when the fragile foal reached forward, she reciprocated without hesitation.

How special were the souls who'd gathered; a mysterious creature of the moon, an exuberant being of the earth and a gentle child of the night.

She made to stand once more, trembling with effort but determined to be righted as those around her. So that when she did manage to balance, wide-legged and uncertain, the filly all but swelled with pride and whinnied her triumph where words had yet to grace her tongue. Delphine glanced among the quartet, oblivious but expectant.

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An owlet came bustling into Polaris, mind still swimming from the carvings she had seen from the tunnel she was ambling out of. She continued hobbling on despite the queer feeling that washed over her that - if anything - made her walk faster. Excitement, perhaps? She was uncertain.

Something caught her ear, a screech of sorts. She turned her head left then right, before she began moving towards the source. Her sharpened talons clacked against the cold ground, so a stealthy approach was not an opinon.

Not that she cared.

Though none of the creatures she recgonized. She hadn't seen any of their species before. Most of them-- no, all of them had four appendages, in which they all walked on. All of them had two little pieces of fluff sticking out of their heads - their purpose was beyond her. One of them was tiny, no bigger than a mouse, and one of them was massive.

She looked at them all in turn; the white-haired one with blank eyes, the tiny mouse-thing with black crystals sticking out of it's eye, the black one with familiar-looking fluids dripping down it's gangly legs, but her gaze rested on the fourth. No eyes, instead a sickly-looking shimmer in the holes where they should be -- in fact, everything looked sickly-looking. Compared to the new-born (which she had decided they must be the same species) it looked horribly thin.

She was silent, unblinking as she stared. She didn't dare move closer but she didn't turn to leave either.

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Well, at least it's not a forest. Indeed, Tunnel I had spread out into a gently glowing cavern, pinpoints of light seeming to crowd every inch of the space. Adeyemi kept steadily falling behind the owl he'd traveled with, burns and curiosity slowing him, until finally he turned to see... nothing. "Hello?" The sound echoed, and the turaco flinched, crest rising in something like fear. Rustling his wings, Adeyemi trundled on, determined not to lose the only living thing he'd yet to find.

There - a silhouette, distinctly owl-shaped. Hurrying towards it, talons click-clacking on the floor, Ade came to an ungraceful halt when he saw the party of creatures surrounding his companion. They were quite an... odd bunch. Nothing like the beauty of he and his feathered friend, their plumage fluffy and claws wicked sharp. No, these things looked nothing of the sort - they reminded him more of the mouse the owl had eaten. Weak, he thought silently, peering at each of the beasts in turn.

A sickly, slender thing, sticking close by to what appeared to be a newborn, from its size. Something that at first seemed to be a rat, but the cluster of crystals piercing its eye said otherwise. Then, a bigger version of the newborn, eyes glowing in the cavern, bones showing through its skin. Adeyemi turned to his friend, clucking softly. "I suppose our search was successful," he whispered, humor lightening his tone. None of the things looked strong, not like him, and he relaxed. He was safe, here.

The dog stood unmoving, her nose swiveling, her head swaying to and fro. With no sound to go off of, she could not isolate the direction of the child and so she merely lingered, eyes distantly staring, until the newborn Gembound unfolded her limbs and slowly found herself climbing to a stand. Magdalena's tail swayed gently behind her flanks, listening, and as she tuned in to the sound of movement she finally shifted her muzzle so that it pointed directly at the child. Once, she had been so helpless. Her body was still frail and she was still sickly, but the princess knew more, now. She could sympathize with the babe before her, waiting as she clambered onto her hooves. Then, there was no sound. But she could feel the bacteria slowly coming closer, she could feel a change in the air, the sudden closeness of another - then, without warning, a gentle touch.

Magdalena's eyes fell half lidded. She didn't recoil as she would have with anybody else. This was but a mere babe, harmless, innocent. The dog was unmoving still, but her lips did curl into a small smile at the horse's tender touch and the sound of her voice sweetly entering the air. A sound that did not belong to anything Magdalena could recognize. She didn't know what this creature was, but she didn't smell like anything Magdalena had encountered before. It didn't matter. She decided that she quite liked this thing, and so in an attempt to know it better, she uttered a small cough-

The calm between them broke as a voice suddenly sounded into the air, a high pitched squeak that had caused the filly to cry out and stumble over her legs, and Magdalena swallowed the culture of bacteria rising in her throat, quick to choose between regarding the voice and helping the child. Unbeknownst to her, the bacteria continued to stew, growing and swelling - a sudden sickness spawning in her stomach. Magdalena's breath hitched as she moved forward, closing the distance between herself and the horse, attempting to provide some semblance of comfort to the fallen foal while her head swung around to the source of the noise. Sure enough, she recognized it, though it had matured in its absence. She stood silently, listening to the skitter of his tiny feet as he approached, nattering on and turning to the youth. There was another flare of jealousy. Had she reason to be jealous? No, it was illogical. But she'd come to learn that most things were.

Before she could respond, a fourth had entered their midst, following behind the numbat. His footsteps were heavier, and he carried with him the reek of death. Blind eyes widened, searching for the creature. Her heart beat had picked up, fearful of what illness-harboring beast was coming towards them, but neither Booker nor the horse seemed alarmed at its presence. Soon it had arrived, and she could feel it - the bacteria, churning, festering. It announced itself, Khloros. Magdalena pursed her lips momentarily, only to relax and produce another gliding smile upon her delicate visage. "Hello Booker, and Khloros." She began quietly, bowing her head. As they gathered, the young horse had slowly been pulling herself to her hooves again and once she managed to stand, she broke the silence with a proud whinny. Magdalena swiveled her head towards the horse, her smile broadening. "I found this. She is quite fresh." The dog added rather disjointedly, but pleased none the less.

Somewhere in the distant, the clacking of talons against stone had risen up through the stale cave air. Magdalena's ears twitched, her gaze flickering aside, but she couldn't know if anybody else had approached until she found a scent or a voice to match. Her lips sealed shut again as she came to notice the feeling of discomfort growing within her.

"Oh dear," Booker murmured, eye wide at the newborn's reaction. "It's all-right, little one!" Turning to Magdalena, he relaxed a bit at her smile, grinning outright when the new Gembound managed to stand up on its own. "Yes, fresh! And like you, Khlor," he added to his friend, turning to peer up at the foal. His attention wandered back to the newly hatched Gembound, and he backed up a bit, not wanting to scare it more than he already had. "Sorry for the fright, little one," he murmured, whiskers twitching shyly. "'s not every day I get to meet both old and new friends!"

The sentence seemed to be directed at both Magdalena and the newborn, but it trailed off a bit at the end, a single slender ear rising up to twitch backwards. The sound, a harsh scrape of sharp on rock, had Booker turning to look - and flinching back when he did, trying to move to where he'd at least have a chance to get between his friends and the creatures. He'd never seen anything like them - instead of walking on four legs, they only had two, and strange, bright... things replaced fur. Eyes narrowed, Booker watched them, fear turning his stomach. After all, Magdalena appeared to have picked up something, the newborn was defenseless, and though Khloros continually insisted that he was fine, Booker was a worrier at heart.

So, looking rather comical considering his size, the numbat took up a defensive position, waiting for the strangers to make their intentions known.

Khloros was both slightly startled and very (oddly) pleased when the new, strange black foal reached her nose up to touch his own. He was immediately smitten with the idea of a comrade, perhaps even a playmate--someone like him. She had accepted him, after all--maybe he wasn't so different. He--

Click. Click. Click.

He turned, and his innocent friendliness gave way to mild fear as he glanced about and saw the others tensing. What were they afraid of...? He looked back into the darkness, straining to see the source of the sound, but all he could see were shadows.

He felt a glimmer of magic well up within him, as he listened and peered, but as his attention shifted to it--startled--it faded as quickly as it had come. He shook his mane out and snorted gently, moving up alongside the strange black foal as if he (the tiny, sickly, spindly thing) could somehow protect her from the dangers that might lie ahead.

Yet his voice, when it came, was quiet and wavering with barely-controlled fear--a near whisper.

"Booker...? What is that?"

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD