ORIGIN

Stepping from open air to enclosure, Fahl detected an immediate change in the temperature. What chill lapped at his hindquarters receded, chased out the same restricted entryways it came through by the predominantly higher temperature the tent harbored within.

"Eridanus." The syllables tumbled over his tongue, the name familiar but the pronunciation ever awkward without meticulous practice. Embarrassment aside, he'd had no reason to; there'd not been many instances where using the caves' common names held much importance, but that was to be expected from what'd been up until more recently a bit of a magic-obsessed unintentional recluse. "That'd be..." The one with the vast amounts of vegetation, with the streams running abundant with fish? "The one with all the plants?"

If his face were not scaled, its flush surely would have revealed his opinion on the lacking description. He pushed it from his mind and carried on as best he could without a significant telling pause.

"Yeah, I've been by there. A couple times. Usually whenever the food's not as... plentiful. In Pisces—where I'm from."

On a surface level, Fahl understood Attikias, his willingness to help. Would he not do the same if the opportunity presented itself? Yes, provided his own problems didn't seem more important to handle. But the depth, the altruism at its heart, escaped him. A hum, a turn of his neck so that their eyes could meet, acknowledged the elf's explanation.

"Ah..." The sound could have been a filler in the conversation, meaningless. That was until it repeated, the rest of the given name clumsily tacked on. A slight frown crossed his features, and he attempted again, before settling upon the suggested, "Attik."

Two names? At least there didn't exist an expectation to say both. His mouth could barely handle one.

He returned the nod. "I'll keep that in mind. And I'm Fahl. Pleased to meet you."

Used to taking his chances with no shelter beyond those naturally made, eyes swept over the tent's interior, observing and not entirely comprehending what they encountered.

"You said, the eyes. What would that be? I don't go too far into Eridanus. Just in and out through the tunnels."

As unusual as the transformation Farina's prison had undergone in her absence was, no possible explanations for the change were given. The Blacksmith's snippets of information the little he had to work with, all Fahl could offer was a noncommittal roll of the shoulders. Mildly amused by the apparent lack of answers, he snorted before saying his unhelpful piece on the matter.

"Don't think anyone knows. Probably some special Master sh—eh, stuff."

And that was it. Nothing else could be said as far as he was concerned, though the talk did remind him to perhaps ask Imp for clarification on what being a Master entailed. As a hatchling, the concern had never been there; a master meant one who did the best and was the best. But now he wondered, as it seemed an emphasis fell upon the word at times, particularly when it didn't apply to him: a sense of importance, heavy and often foreboding.

The suggestion to affix later, if not for his limited facial expressions, would have caused a skeptical brow to lift. Robbed of the option, he settled for a questioning head tilt. "Are you... certain it'll hold up? Deep dive's more than a splash in the water." Sure, waiting around for what should have, at least to him, been a non-issue started an impatient itch beneath his scales. However, the alternative came across as a loss of materials and time if the guarantee wasn't ironclad.

"I can spare more time. How about your family. Any that I'd see more likely than the rest?" What did they look like? By his reckoning, bipedal if the children took after their parent. Not that he knew how this operated. He hadn't hatched surrounded by copies of himself, but alone on a slippery ledge.

Strong emotion could not present itself well on his face, but behind a dull yet attentive stare and the slight parting of lizard lips, Fahl was pleased. As little as it might be, his guess had been more educated than he'd expected it to be. Entire mindscape drenched in the warm light of success, he gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back, and though his chin raised at the self-administered praise, any further smugness did not leak out into reality.

Bipedal it indeed was, excepting this Vivilene. Considering the deer half, that made sense. Although no expert, to him a single pair of hooves didn't seem a fantastic way to walk around. Rearing up was one thing, but eternally balancing on those was another. His best frame of reference being a horse though, a difference might exist there.

His eyes shut for a moment, contemplative but not about the conversation. Dye still unaffixed, by this time the itch of impatience grew ever more insistent. He wondered, while the job was not his to complete, whether anything could be done to push the process along. The magic might clash—never before had he hazarded spells mingling—but surely trying to hasten the dye's drying wouldn't be a significant risk. Acting before hesitance could fully assert itself, he called upon heat, expecting the familiar summons to work as usual.

And then his eyes flew open, finally caught up with all Attikias had said. "Dragon?"

Elf he could deduce as what his conversational partner was. This, however, he knew nothing about. The very word somehow managed to sound imposing. Or maybe that was due to the descriptors of "large" and "dark."