Mar 26 2021, 12:26 AM
(backdated to a week or so after Cry Havoc)
Tahi-shei had avoided Ursa for several days after the Raid, and only then, he had only returned to his usual rounds with an escort through the wastes (though they'd split off since). He had grown restless, even in such a short time, and had refused to let himself simmer in his own self-pity. He was a creature who needed to be in motion -- needed to be moving. Now, though, he was in Orion, and he was alone.
For the first time in a while, he had stopped, alone and wholly silent, as he stood there on the cliffs. It was the first place he ever stood, he was certain of it -- even without being able to see the stars, he could see the whitecaps. Some ancient instinct and memory had drawn him back here as he stood. Perhaps the shards of stone he sensed around him were pieces of his own ametrine chrysalis, left here by time? Or, perhaps, they had long since been snatched away by golems and red mice, leaving these cliffs empty of any trace of him save the fungus he'd spawned in taking his first steps.
This was home, in some ways. In others, it was the very antithesis. He had started his round here, met James here, ventured out to the wide world of these caves from there. His white, glazed-over eyes were tilted upwards as though he were watching the stars -- guided by gentle magic, where he had first felt it, he urged fungus to sprout where he stood. It was an alien, foreign thing -- not his usual whitecaps, guided by passive magic, but proud and spindly blue-purple fruiting bodies coincidentally similar in shape to the symbol written upon the Black Spire.
They were poisonous when they were immature, in weaker and more faltering casts, but these were tall and proud and edible. He did not eat them, though. He let his eyes close for a moment as he breathed in the stuffy cave air -- it was humid, today. Orion was not an especially wet cave, but he could smell that something like a storm was brewing. The spores were flourishing in the slightly-Springtime air, especially from the recently-created fruiting bodies, and the air was heavy enough with them that he could see. Unbeknownst to Tahi-shei, he would soon be expecting company.
For the first time in a while, he had stopped, alone and wholly silent, as he stood there on the cliffs. It was the first place he ever stood, he was certain of it -- even without being able to see the stars, he could see the whitecaps. Some ancient instinct and memory had drawn him back here as he stood. Perhaps the shards of stone he sensed around him were pieces of his own ametrine chrysalis, left here by time? Or, perhaps, they had long since been snatched away by golems and red mice, leaving these cliffs empty of any trace of him save the fungus he'd spawned in taking his first steps.
This was home, in some ways. In others, it was the very antithesis. He had started his round here, met James here, ventured out to the wide world of these caves from there. His white, glazed-over eyes were tilted upwards as though he were watching the stars -- guided by gentle magic, where he had first felt it, he urged fungus to sprout where he stood. It was an alien, foreign thing -- not his usual whitecaps, guided by passive magic, but proud and spindly blue-purple fruiting bodies coincidentally similar in shape to the symbol written upon the Black Spire.
They were poisonous when they were immature, in weaker and more faltering casts, but these were tall and proud and edible. He did not eat them, though. He let his eyes close for a moment as he breathed in the stuffy cave air -- it was humid, today. Orion was not an especially wet cave, but he could smell that something like a storm was brewing. The spores were flourishing in the slightly-Springtime air, especially from the recently-created fruiting bodies, and the air was heavy enough with them that he could see. Unbeknownst to Tahi-shei, he would soon be expecting company.