[Hatch] Hello, World - Printable Version

Ill

Ill had become familiar with his reflection. With the feeling of piercing himself, his tongue, his mouth, anything that he could bite, with his dull-seeming yet powerful teeth, just for the fun of it. The feeling of moving his tail and flexing the little muscle he had against the stone of his cage, as he twisted and twisted in endless circles. Already 6 feet in length, Ill was 75 pounds of seal. Not the largest thing you’d find in the caves by far, but still, for something from earth, he was quite impressive.

He didn't enjoy being trapped inside the smooth, cutting chrysalis that he had been born into. The black walls felt suffocating, closing in against him. The thin, blade-like lines in the stone dug into Ill’s flippers, slicing them as well as his torso, his face. His own blood was in the Amniotic fluid-like substance in which he twisted restlessly. He soaked in it.

He opened his eyes- Ill did not do that often- Viewing nothing but darkness wasn’t fun. He had slept, just as many gembounds did, and regained the little energy that he had lost. He studied his reflection in the crystal surface that surrounded him, staring into his own dark green eyes. Ill could barely make himself out, his pelt was almost as dark as the chrysalis itself.

Ill placed webbed claws, flippers, onto the smooth surface. He held them still, for he knew that if he rubbed them up or down, the glass would slice him open. He thrust himself forwards, pushing slowly, pressing his head against the gemstone, pushing until the tension built so high that the crystal just snapped. Ill, along with spiked shards of Aegirine, slid out into a sloppy pile on the floor.

He opened his mouth in a gasp, the light, smells, and feeling of the cave rushing into his senses along with his first breath of fresh air as it rushed into his lungs. His nostrils flared as he twisted around, shuffling his flippers in a slow, turning motion. The sky, the walls here, seemed endless. His voice seemed endless too, though it was just above a whisper.

"Hello, World.

"speak" and think

My father is a disturbed man
His rage entered my soul
As I lay on the floor
In a pool of my own blood

Three days ago, Iceheart had broken out of a chrysalis of their own.

The chunk of celestine had been buried underneath snowfall, creating a dense several-feet-deep blanket above the gemstone. Iceheart had to dig when they came out, claws thrashing every which way and weaselly body wriggling to free itself. This set a standard: being born sucked. It was exhausting and painful, and at the end of it you're cold and wet and coughing up snow and amniotic fluids. It was not an affair that you should be alone for.

And Iceheart had become something of an expert in their time alive. Little cave rabbits could hear you coming a mile away, even if they couldn't see you. Fish were stupid and easy to catch. The large, white deer that patrolled the snow in packs would kick you in the face if you tried to hunt them. Yes, Iceheart was confident they knew everything about everything ever.

They even knew the sound of a chrysalis cracking. They could remember it from their own, though it sounded louder in their own ears when they were experiencing it. Regardless, the white puffball went bounding across the white plains towards the source of the shattering.

It had seemed like the creature had already unearthed itself-- or, no, bits of black chrysalis lay across the snow and matched the formation on his head. Iceheart skidded to a halt, thick, white tail lashing as it took a moment to study Íllska. It was larger than they were, and their pelt was small and dense. It didn't have any wings, and Iceheart had already assumed everything looked like they did; so needless to say, this was odd to them.

Iceheart's snout crinkled slightly, but their voice came completely without tone, low and hollow despite their ridiculous, cottonball-come-to-life appearance. "Are you okay? Are you hungry?"

Ill

Ill’s head turned slowly, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Who had interrupted their admiration of the (not so sky-like) sky? They were enjoying the moment, and someone had come along to ruin it. Ill's eyes settled on the smaller (though taller) fluffy white thing, with the short stocky legs. The weird creature's appearance was ridiculous to him, and he couldn't help but snicker. It was weird, to talk to random gembounds you found- or that had found you.

“No.”

Ill said simply- Not that it was at all true, he was actually quite hungry, and thirsty- But why would he tell this random little thing that? They didn’t need to know- Unless they were planning on helping him? Ill would appreciate that- Or maybe, less appreciate, more use and want. He could use that.

“Well, maybe. Why?”

"speak" and think

My father is a disturbed man
His rage entered my soul
As I lay on the floor
In a pool of my own blood

"No," the thing said, and Iceheart felt a pang of confusion. Was he not okay, or was he not hungry? He was snickering, too, though they didn't quite know at what. They did know, however, that when they came out of their own chrysalis, they were starving, and the feeling only knew worse the longer they went without eating.

Why wouldn't anyone want help for that?

"Because it's hard," Iceheart said, expressionless and toneless. "Because doing things together is how you're supposed to do it. Even the dumb ones that can't talk have figured that out. They all move together so you can't eat them." They started to plod through the snow, tail flicking and sending fragments of powder snow across the plain.

They went with the assumption that Íllska would simply follow, saying, "The fish are easiest because they're the stupidest, and there's a lot of them. They're good to eat." There was a river nearby, half-frozen but usable. Iceheart made their way to it, their legs lifting high to settle steadily on the snowfall without sinking.

When they got to the river, they were careful-- padded feet pressed slowly against the ice and they made their way to the yawning gap where ice broke off and turned to water. They looked back to the seal. "Don't fall in," they warned. "It's cold."

And then, their pale gaze dropped to the sheer drop that led to icy water. "It's easy to see them because they're silver. When the lights are on-- they're not always on --they shine like... pebbles. Shiny pebbles," the dragon said, wisely. "You just grab them. But they're fast, so you have to be faster."

Ill

Together? What a silly concept- Ill didn’t need anyone- He hoped he didn’t, at least. Still, a kindness given is a kindness taken. He thrust his body upwards with the use of his front flippers, then smacking back down in a plume of snow and ice, following the little dragon slowly but steadily, mumbling under his breath.

“I don’t need help.”

He approached the water slowly, flipper grazing Iceheart's pelt as he neared the water. It was crystal clear and icy, but far too shallow- Ill wanted the ocean. He eyed it curiously, wrinkling his muzzle.

“I like the cold.”

He said defensively- And he did- He was built for snow. Waterproof pelt and fatty body, prefect for the conditions. If he were an earth creature, he would have been running feral in Antarctica for goodness sake. It almost felt insulting.

“Little shiny pebble fish, alright.”

Ill nodded. Fish were like him, he knew that- They swam like him. He knew he was born to swim. He stared at the riverbank, and hunger gnawed at his stomach.

“How little?”

"speak" and think

My father is a disturbed man
His rage entered my soul
As I lay on the floor
In a pool of my own blood

Iceheart glanced sidelong at Íllska. He wasn't the only one built for arctic conditions; in another life, they'd be one of many in their clutch, tucked safely on a snowy mountainside while their mother terrorized star-streaked skies. For now, though, they were here, and they knew that water was cold-- colder than anything else they knew.

Still, though, Iceheart had learned that themselves. Maybe this one just had to learn it eventually, too.

Their eyes dipped back to the water, thinking. This thing-- whatever it was --was much bigger than they were. Iceheart was usually full after two or three of them: so this thing, by Iceheart's estimations, would need... seven or eight, which was nearly as many fish as Iceheart had ever caught in their lifetime. They frowned, maw twisting back.

"Little. But easy," they said. "The deer are bigger, but you're not going to catch any of those. They're faster." The biggest aren't afraid to kick you in the face, either-- though with how spherical Íllska was, maybe that wouldn't matter...? Still, there wasn't a chance he'd be able to catch up with them. They'd hear him miles away.

Iceheart shifted on the spot, muzzle turning slightly as they honed in on a small, silver outline in the water. Their forelimbs lashed out into the water, icy droplets flying in all directions as their fingers coiled around a thick, scaly, thrashing mass and pulled it out of the water and into their jaws. They crunched down on it hard and it fell limp.

They could taste copper on their tongue as they put the fish down in the snow between them. "Here. Try it," they said, licking their jowls.

Ill

Ill's dark head turned towards the little fish, as its blood stained the snow red. His shoulder rolled, in a nearly shrug-like manner, as he lowered his body from the perched, on flipper pose, to flat stomach. He opened his jaws much wider than necessary, perhaps to show off sharp, pearly rose of teeth, picking the prey up and swallowing it whole with the tilt of his head.

Ill licked his lips, raising himself into his higher, better position once more, turning to Iceheart with a grin. He appreciated the helping hand- And he realized that he had better be nice, or Iceheart might not want to help them- Or feed them more fish- quite a quick switch in personality and goals, something that was a skill of Ill’s.

“That was good- Thanks.”

She barked, a little louder than intended, and cast their gaze back to the water. Their eyes blurred at the sight of the rushing ripples of liquid, and they felt an urge to catch the fish from the inside- But he wanted to continue speaking to the dragon kid. Ill narrowed his eyes, sliding themselves forwards.

“My turn.”

Ill added, speaking at the water, though the words were directed towards the dragon. They were lacking claws to grasp fish, so they would have to use their maw. She made sure she was close to the water, as close as it felt necessary, and watched for “little shiny pebbles”. A flash of silver, and Illl lunged- Missing by a long shot, while all fish in his radius hurried off into the deeper parts of the river. He growled in annoyance.

“Damn it.”

"speak" and think

My father is a disturbed man
His rage entered my soul
As I lay on the floor
In a pool of my own blood

Iceheart did not react to the way Íllska ate his fish-- they sat back and watched quietly. It was unclear if this was cluelessness; a lack of fear simply because they did not yet know that things much larger than they and many teeth were something dangerousness, or simply if it were because Iceheart themselves were a thing with jaws and lots of teeth, too.

But what did make them uneasy was Íllska's grin. A primal instinct deep within their chest stirred, the kind they imagined rabbits to have when they heard a predator coming miles away. The kind that urged them to leave before something bad happened. But they stayed put. There was no reasonable excuse for feeling that way, they thought.

They turned their gaze back to the river. My turn, he said-- fair enough. They saw, from the corner of their eye, a pin-prick, silver blur that was followed by a flurry of motion. Íllska lunged towards the water right next to them and flecks of ice-cold water went flying everywhere. Iceheart grimaced, eyes squeezing shut before the little needle-like droplets stung their eyes. There was a deep, braying growl before Iceheart deigned to open them again.

Íllska was fishless.

"Oh," the dragon said. "That's okay. It takes practice." Their muzzle ping-ponged between seal and water. They lifted themselves up again, claws gripping the edge of the ice. "Can you do magic? Sometimes magic helps."

It was difficult to cast, sometimes. Like a muscle that had to be exercised, Iceheart felt it distantly, almost fraying out of touch. They felt it deep in their chest; a surge of energy and water hissed as it hardened into a neat, hard icicle and shot out towards a fish, spearing through its head. The dragon streeetched out across the water to grasp at it, hot-potato-ing it back to land and easing the great spike out of it.

The flopped the mangled corpse towards Íllska. "What magic can you do?"

Ill

That fish was gone as quick as ever as well, and Ill raised his head with a sigh, his body rolling as he peered at the dragon sideways, flippers flapping like useless wings at his sides as he stared.

“Magic?”

He asked bleakly, blinking. What was that? Ill didn’t seem to really understand what Iceheart had done- Spearing the fish with magic. He simply assumed that that was something that other, weird, fluffy creature could do.

“Ah, yes. I am Ill- By the way. Who are you?”

Ill lazed further- He felt comfortable enough by this stranger to wallow in the snow. Not the smartest move ever, but Ill assumed that the worst the little dragon could do was bite his non-existent ankles- And he would be fine if that happened.

“And- What is ‘Magic’?”

"speak" and think

My father is a disturbed man
His rage entered my soul
As I lay on the floor
In a pool of my own blood

That was a question Iceheart couldn't entirely answer. Magic was... magic. It just was. Still, it didn't stop them from trying. "Magic is doing something you can't do with your claws or teeth," they said slowly. "It comes from inside you and makes things happen outside you. I can make ice, make myself wet, and make my feet cold." Never mind the fact that Iceheart only felt it come from within because that's where their gemstone happened to be lodged in. They added, "You have to just... try and make something happen. That's how I found it."

Ill was a weird name, they thought, but did not say aloud. Without a hint of irony they produced what was also kind of a weird name, "I'm Iceheart. Do you want to see my feet go cold?"

Despite asking, Íllska was not given a say in the matter. They lifted their claws to his face (not touching-- they knew it hurt to be touched by Cold Feet) and concentrated very, very hard. They even held their breath. Holding their breath always helped when doing magic, they'd found.

And in no time at all, their feet were freezing to the touch. Even in Ursa they were producing steam with how far the temperature had dropped; the damp fur crusting into hard, black ice against their wrists. They wriggled their fingers, clenching and unclenching before they lost feeling in there completely. It hurt, but it was worth showing what they could do, they think.

They brought their forelimbs back to themselves and hissed hot breath on them until the spell faded. Their fingers were numb and stiff. "You try doing something," they said.