ORIGIN - Three of a Kind

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The stones were nestles in a ring, tucked beneath the arching roots of a mangrove on a (admittedly rather spongy) bit of marshy land. They had grown, and Dragon had watched them, and--as much as he could--he had done his best to keep them warm with occasional breaths of heat. He'd piled mud and dead grass around them: an instinct, the sort of compost that rotted and gave off a little heat (these would be true children of rot). He didn't know if they needed warmth, but better safe than sorry.

He was attached to them, already. He somehow pictured whatever lay within the agate to be scrappy, determined--because it had been a stone with weak life, yet it survived. The clintonite must have been something aquatic, and stubborn too, aloof--it was the only one to refuse his magic, at first. And the yellow zircon must be something fiery, for the stone was glittering yellow with emberlight-orange sparking within.

Dragon had come and gone, keeping them well-hidden. When he'd rested, it was here. He'd left only to hunt, and less often than usual. Ridged tail swept him out and away along dark water channels, and he'd returned with the aftertaste of fish or meat on his tongue, but with eyes only for the safety of these stones. Sometimes he rumbled quietly to them, too, telling them in quiet tones of the world at large.

"It is dark, but you can find your way with magic," he'd tell them in the fog; or "Are you resting, still, in your stones? I will look after you, and afterward, too," and "Are you ready yet? You are taking your time."

But there was humor in his voice, always.

He was here now; quiet, motionless in the dark and mud, keeping watch. He'd given them another blast of heat across the top, skimming the rock only barely, and then settled down to guard them.

When they hatched, would they be how he imagined? Or different, something else entirely? Would they surprise him? They would be good children, he was sure--one way or another. They were his.

@Revenant @Skein @Brandle

The zircon was transparent, enough to see the shadow of whatever was growing within. The tint and uneven surface of the gemstone shell was enough to distort the shape to the point where it was hard to tell what exactly it was. It was surely something long and serpentine, all coiled up snug in it's egg.

Well, now it was time for everyone to know for certain what this little creature was. The gemstone itself was certainly ready- the slightly bit of movement or pressure against it's fiery walls causes cracks to spiderweb across it's surface. It held up surprisingly well, but eventually it was all too much and-

SPLAT!

Looks like Dragon was wrong with this one. The only thing fiery about the hatchling was the gemstone embedded just above his left eye. The rest was all fins and webbing and feathery gills. Dull swampy tones accented with streaks of blue. Maybe he'd grow to have a fiery personality? Only time could tell, really.

In a mess of flailing arms and lashing tail he untangled himself, slithering free from the collapsed chrysalis and the mess of mud and grass that had surrounded it. Instinctively he made the strange little chirps baby crocodilians, standing up tall to look around at the roots of the mangrove tree, the other chrysalis nearby, and finally, right at Dragon himself. His eyes were wide with the wonder of someone taking in the world for the first time, but otherwise his expression had all the inexpressiveness that most reptiles tend to possess.

@Dragon @Revenant @Skein

Ever since Skein's form took shape, since their ears developed, they listened to Dragons voice, no matter how muffled it may have been beneath a thick layer of gemstone. Skein hatched from their gemstone second. The blast of heated air triggered something in the chrysalis. Skein's form shifted in the deep dark green. Then, a beak tapped the inside. It pushed through the weakening stone, and the whole thing shattered around them. But still, they were left in the mud and the grass. The hay mud combination shifted, before a grey beak rose from the mess. Muddy and new. Owlish eyes blinked, orange-yellow massive and endlessly curious.

Skein pulled itself atop the mud, and shook like a pup might. They sat rather awkwardly in the middle of the mud. What wasn't covered with spots of mud or grass, was...interesting instead. Their face bare, neck, tail, and wings downy and pink beneath. And the sprouting fur on their body tan, with even more wrinkly skin beneath. Skein was the definition of an ugly duckling at hatching. Skein's eyes blinked, slow, confused. Their gaze first went to Dragon. Then, the other child.

If imprinting could cause physical damage, Skein would've been dead on arrival. Skein knew this was their family, safe, instinctively. They blinked. Large, intense owl eyes taking in their future family. They were far from the aloof creature Dragon had imagined. So far, at least. Skein opened their mouth to attempt to speak to their father, their sibling. And what came out was a bizzare shriek-squeak, A combination of a baby owl's hiss, and an alligator's chirp. Another try. The hiss slowly became syllables. "Yyyyour timeee."

Skein crawled from theirs mud, their back legs hopping, and the front pair waddling. An odd sight in the nicest terms. And it came next to Brandle. Skein rubbed itself against its sibling, a letting out a warbling 'prbrbrt' noise.

@Revenant (interactions with both brandle and dragon)

He went still, quiet and rapt, as the first stone began to crack. He didn't breathe often, anyway, but now it held completely: and as the lashing little child tumbled forth and then righted itself--untangled itself--he stared in fascination. In devotion.

Brandle was reptilian, as was he--his heritage was clear in them. The splashes of blue were... new, but interesting. The neck... frill? Things? Dragon didn't know what to make of those, but he accepted this child whole regardless of what those were. 

He gave a gentle rumble, and reached his snout forward, laying it nearly in the muck and offering this first child a light nudge of touch. The chirps struck some form of instinct in him--a not-unfamiliar one.

"I am here," he assured Brandle--and then the other stone was cracking.

How fast-!

He turned his attention to the second chrysalis, though he remained close beside Brandle, unmoving. This child was strange: all down and wrinkled skin, and Dragon blinked at it. If Brandle were a strange mirror of himself, this thing was an opposite: a complete alien in its shape and color. The sound it made, at first, sounded crocodilian enough--a little chirping hiss. And then this became... words.

'Yyyyour timeee.'

...Well that was fucking ominous.

Dragon blinked again, and rumbled, wondering if it were an echo of something he had said--he couldn't quite remember. 

Expectant, he glanced to the third stone, again, but nothing happened; this child wasn't ready to hatch just yet, then. With a kindly grumble, yet again, he turned back to both (surprisingly attentive, bright-eyed) children.

"I am Dragon. I am your father. I will take care of you both," he assured them, in slow, gentle words.

Inspiration struck him, and magicka flickered. A medium-sized banana--nothing glorious, really--appeared, plopping into the mud.

Dragon tilted his head to the side a little awkwardly, and nipped the thing in half as best he could; he tossed half to each child with two jerks of his jaws. "Food," he offered, "if you want it."

Dragon loved food, after all; surely his children would, too? ...He hoped so, anyway.

@Brandle @Skein @Revenant

Brandle watched, mirroring Dragon's rapt attention as the second chrysalis stirred and a new sibling popped out- though looking at the two next to each other, you'd hardly be able to tell. Immediately, though, he recognized them as a sibling, and had they not approached him, Brandle surely would've approached them himself. A childish giggle escaped him- but not words, not yet- webbed claw-hands slapping against Skein like a toddler trying to pet a dog. He mimicked his sibling's strange noise, a loud "PBRBRBRBRBBRBRTT!" echoing through the area, his tongue sticking out a for a moment or two afterwards.

Then the big thing (Dragon? Father?) spoke (which, being fresh out of the chrysalis, he only half understood) but what REALLY mattered was it was gentle and nurturing and the first thing Brandle has seen or heard outside of his chrysalis, so Dragon was already recognized as the Dad he was whether he liked it or not (which, luckily for the both of them, he very much wanted.)

The banana suddenly popping into existence startled him, but not nearly as much as the half of it flying straight towards his face. Though Dragon surely didn't mean to, the hatchling didn't exactly have the best reflexes yet, so the half of banana slapped him right upside the snout.

"AAAAAAH! AHH!" More startled than hurt, he slide backwards into the mud, his tail half buried in it as he eyed the banana with a bewildered terror. Looks like he definitely did not like that banana.

The runt of the litter; the weakest stone. Is it any surprise the thunder egg hatched last?

She is sleeping in her chrysalis. She has been sleeping for a while, this little neonate—unaware of the world outside. Unaware of anything, anything at all, only blissful unconsciousness; the rise and fall of her chest as steady as the cycles.

Crack. The stone, tight around her form and now brittle with the last of its growth expended, begins to break. With every unconscious shift of the hatchling's body, more spiderweb cracks crawl up its base, prying apart the red-blue stone.

Crack! Loud, insistent, the sound of a chrysalis-break that could be heard for meters—the hatchling tumbles out, side-first, as the stone finally gives.

She knows... chill. Coolness, as the swamp air bears down on new skin and amniotic fluid wicks away heat. Movement—multiple eyes, like round jewels set on the upper sides of her head, blink away the tired blur of waking. Despite the commotion, she's silent—her only reaction being a curious cock of her head, watching the one she instinctively knows as her sibling panic.

Is there something to panic about? Not to her; not to one who had just barely missed the unfortunate, incidental aim of magicka. There is a yellow, curving fruit in the mud, there are her siblings, (two of them, she notes) and then there is the biggest of them all.

She knows this one instinctively, too. Father.

Wet wings flare and flutter with something tentative, a newborn's uncertainty with her body. She pushes vaguely at a shard of chrysalis, but getting no response, she instead turns her attention back to Father.

She wants warmth. It is cool in this swamp, and such a small, cold-blooded body is so easily chilled, and she wants shelter.

Father has that. It's part instinct to cling to a parent, part want to warm up, as the newborn pushes away from her chrysalis and begins to wing-walk over to her father's sprawling form.

@Skein @Dragon @Brandle

Skein sniffed the banana, before taking a nibble. Whatever their thoughts, they found the banana agreeable enough. Skein settled in, sitting on their hindquarters. They chewed at the banana, biting off minuscule bits of mush, and then swallowing, their pink skin taking on a bit of a twinkle.

Skein's head snapped upwards, startled. Bits of banana flicked off them from the sudden movement. Someone was screaming. Brandle was screaming. An alarm went off in Skein's head, a repeated 'Danger! Danger! Sibling was screaming! Sibling was in danger! Skein knocked the banana aside. They scrambled for Brandle, attempting to climb up onto their sibling, perched with their feet on his neck and back.

With either their new vantage point, or after tumbling to the ground, Skein angled their wings downward, and their sparse baby fur raised. A very intimidating baby threat display. Skein bared the inside of their mouth, and hissed at the Banana with all the fury they could muster. They spotted a black blot moving towards Dragon. The third sibling. It caught them by surprise, having been so engaged with watching Dragon and the banana.

Skein's head tracked Revenant, inspecting them for danger, before recognizing them as their sibling. Skein glared (or was that just their normal look?) as they watched Revenant snuggle against Dragon, and felt a strange desire to one up their sibling in their show of love. But Skein, for the moment, was engaged with protecting Brandle from the dangers of the blindingly yellow fruit and the parent who'd dropped it.

@Dragon

Dragon lay there, deliberately still and low to the ground (and accessible to his children) in what felt like a web of emotional warmth. He was an alligator, a reptile, and love didn't come as often as for the more social creatures of the caves. But that alligator side of him did feel instant, deep devotion to his little hatchlings--and concern (and mild amusement, stifled at once) when one panicked at the flung banana.

"No," he offered, gently, as reassuring as he could make his rumble; he hauled himself forward a step, tipping his snout to nudge at the fruit. He made a show of inhaling loudly--sniffing--and of nipping at it. "It is food. It will not hurt you," he tried to explain.

The third stone cracking drew his gaze away from where it had wandered to Skein (who was clambering onto their sibling, or trying to). It was a lot to keep track of, and all at once, too, and Dragon was reminded of the work of raising and looking after children. These three would be a handful.

For a moment his heart stopped as fear trickled in. Would this one be healthy-? What if something was wrong?

But a perfect little hatchling tumbled forth, and pulled upright; and he saw a glitter of multiple little eyes blinking at the world. Had he known right away that Revenant was female, he might have felt that rush of fatherly awe and loving wonder at "a little girl!" but he knew only that here was a tiny, black, draconic monster, and that was beautiful. A wonderful child! All of them, wonderful; and this one, now, was wing-walking toward him (Is this one part dragon-? he wondered, and then the eyes reminded him---or maybe those bats?). It made him think of Merrow and of Imp; he hadn't been there for their hatching (had he been asleep? Recovering in Polaris? He couldn't remember, now). But they had been half-bat children of his, too, and both wonderful in their own ways, but this one was like a slender, dark little mirror of them. He'd have to find Merrow, or Imp, and ask them to teach this one how to use its ears--ahh, wait. It has no ears.

It was crawling to him--and he provided nothing of the warmth it sought. He was but a fat, cold reptile, but he did his best to provide. Beneath the water, his feet began to heat, to char at the mud and boil at the water. It didn't superheat it, it wouldn't cook the children--it wasn't powerful enough to heat a whole section of swamp that much. But it did warm the muck and water directly around him.

"Hello, little one," he murmured, to this new child. "I am Dragon; I am your father. You're safe here." He studied it lovingly for a moment, and then looked to the others. "You're all safe here, with me. You don't need to be afraid of the banana," he rumbled, which--seemed like an odd sentence to have to say, really. "It is for eating. Do you know your names?" he asked, quietly. He didn't want to startle them further with a loud voice, or the like; and anyway, it was good to keep them hidden in the misty dark, for now.

@Brandle @Skein @Revenant

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his mismatched sibling nibbling a piece of their banana- evidentially their fruit hadn't been too murderous. A head snapped in their direction, and suddenly Skein was scrambling right towards him. A surprised squeak turned into a panicked yelp as Skein lept onto his back, quickly forcing Brandle into the mud. Panicked little hands slapped the mud, his voice muffled by the muck.

When he was finally able to right himself, the horrifying banana was completely forgotten in favor of haphazardly shaking off the mud that now coated his scales, and staring with great curiosity at the recently emerged third sibling. He put a hand on Skein for comfort, despite the fact that they'd shoved his face into the mud just moments prior.

Dragon got his full attention- and more understanding, this time, as if the banana scare had been the wake up call he'd needed. "Dadgon! Dadgon!!!" Enthusiastic childish mimicry, arms flailing for emphasis. The rest of the sentence flew straight past him- not being afraid of the banana? But it had hurt him. The last bit, however, he also latched onto. In a sing-song tone he chanted "Name! Ba-Ba-Ba! Name Ba-Ba-Ba!" Before, with a little wiggle and excited flourish "BANDLE!"

@Dragon @Skein

With the threat neutralized, all thanks to Skein, they settled down. The fur fell down, and the wings folded in. And then, they sat on top of Brandle. The picture of regality. They did not move, even as mud splattered their face and skin. Skein made a happy little purr noise when Brandle touched their arm. Skein was satisfied they had done a good job being a body guard.

They did not move, until Brandle began to flail his arms, splattering Skein with even more mud. Skein grumbled, and then, finally, waddled off of Brandle. Skein shook themselves out, and them cautiously approached the banana. Skein nudged it with their nose, then licked it. "Sssafe. Bnnaaa," Came Skein's hissing voice. Seeming to confirm that the banana was, in fact, not poison. "Nnneamee?" Skein seemed deep in thought.

"Sss Fffather." Well, that seemed the closest they were going to get to a name for the moment. Still both jealous of Revenant, and wanting to investigate both their new sibling and Dragon, Skein waddle walked closer. They walked over the banana, leaving a muddy pawprint imbedded on it, and attempted to squeeze their between Dragon and Revenant.

@Revenant

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