Are You My Mummy? - Printable Version

As was previously stated, Tsvetok had no real sense of camaraderie and friendship. However, it did loosely understand that Timir had gone out of his way to try to help. Two new Valkhounds arrived and before Tsvetok could bellow or do anything, darkness surrounded them, right as even more rocks appeared. Like Fourteen, Tsvetok had heat sensing pits-- but did Timir? This was an important decision.

Timir helped Tsvetok, so Tsvetok helped Timir.

It turns out, funnily enough, that friendship does always save the day. Pulling from its magic again, Tsvetok's already-heated insides turned even hotter, to the point where it shone through its feathers and brightest out of its skull, cutting through the darkness. Totally useless if Timir had other ways of seeing than with his eyes, but worth the thought either way.

Still roiling with firelight, Tsvetok turned its head to where Fourteen was. "WELL IT ATTACKED ME!" It roared, much louder than everyone else, because it was still under the assumption it had to assert dominance. "AND IT ATTACKED HIM!" A talon pointed at Timir.

Explain that, atheists.

Not knowing which was worse: Rock, Fourteen, or Fenmyre, Tsvetok tapped its talons against the cave floor agitatedly, its head swinging between all three.

Confusion, darkness, firelight, voices. Timir was beside himself, too much happening at once, and all he could do was stand shaking slightly with adrenaline, tongue hanging from a mouth that panted in distress. His snarl faded, at least, as V-Chaos-Fourteen's voice cut through the shadows. It rang with almost bored authority, or at least knowledge, enough that Timir's brain recognized with immense relief that here was someone who Actually Knew Stuff.

A moment after V-Chaos-Fourteen picked the correct rock from the field of mirrored versions, the mirrors themselves simply vanished.

Timir straightened, struggling with all the words, but Tsvetok beat him to it. He looked at his friend, and then at the newcomer, and wondered if his face was shaped like theirs--all masky skull--and then he looked at the rock. "It did attack," he agreed, the new words still coming halting. He then remembered to RAISE HIS VOICE, as Tsvetok had taught him, although... this new person wasn't shouting? Was that... right?

Timir was mostly confused, at this point. "TIMIR. BUT... there were... MANY. It made more." He paused, turning, glancing at the bare rock where the twenty-odd mirrored versions had been ominously hovering. They were gone now, though. Were they... just mischievous? Tricksters, fakes? He hesitated, realizing now just how overwhelming this new existence was going to be.

And the Valkhound part of him, settled firmly in his Oilstone, decided that the best way to deal with all of that was probably to kill and eat it. This, despite everything he'd just been told. So despite all this information, he ended his brief study of V-Chaos-Fourteen--and his glancing check on Tsvetok--by halfheartedly snarling at the removed stone.

He wasn't aware enough yet of social interaction to register that Chaos-Fourteen had called out to someone else--someone who hadn't yet fully revealed themselves. He was standing instead, braced and uncertain, tail twitching like a cat's as he eyed the rock.

Fenmyre bristled. "I will not listen to a dog. I will do as I please."

Had it considered the fact that making it worse was funny? Did every Hound of the forge have a stick up their ass? This was harmless. It was tempted, though, to do something seriously damaging if it continued to pry. It spoke to her self-restraint that she did not.

It was difficult to speak to a crowd, even more than one sent her mind into endless tiny loops. Who to focus on? Who to dissect first? But this wasn't a professional endeavor, she reminded herself. This was just a game.

"It lies. They all do. The..." What was it they were panicking about again? "The rocks. They are predators. They cull the weaker hounds. You must defend yourselves, by any means necessary."

Oh wait. Idea.

"That one... is a rock also." It jabbed a claw towards its sibling. "It will strike when the time is right. Do not be fooled."

At around six months old, a baby begins to show signs of cognizant thinking. At six minutes old, Tsvetok had its first cognizant thought. Why does he keep saying that? It was more out of irritation than real curiosity; Timir kept saying Timir, and Tsvetok didn't know what a Timir was. Perhaps this was an anti-climatic first thing to think, considering there were two older Valkhounds telling them to do different things, but man I'm just the narrator for Tsvetok, don't shoot the messenger, will you?

For a beat, it stared at Timir, unhearing or perhaps just flat unaware of the two siblings arguing with each other. It wasn't until Fenmyre said the magic words: "You must defend yourselves, by any means necessary," that some deeply-rooted, animal instinct was activated.

Now, whether it was Vargas, Totum, or simply Fate itself that ingrained this particular quirk in this particular Valkhound-- who's to say? It was there regardless, and it had Tsvetok bolting into action. The length of its neck swung the moment Fenmyre finished spitting the command out, facing V-Chaos-Fourteen.

Rock or not, Fenmyre didn't have to specify that. Tsvetok was already beginning to move, its claws scrabbling on the cave floor, though it didn't get very far before a second, different command was uttered. "Just ignore her."

In emergency situations, commands often change and overlap. What good is a creation that obeys the first command it ever hears, and none afterwards, after all? Unfortunately, no one programmed 'only take orders from one person' into its system, because it seemed more than happy to completely ignore Fenmyre for now (until, inevitably, Fenmyre told it not to do that, of course.)

Either way, Fourteen had spared itself of having a giant chicken attacking it. For now.

Tsvetok turned to Timir, and finally asked the question it'd been thinking about for all of fifteen seconds now. "WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING THAT??" It demanded, voice deep and bellowing. "WHAT IS TIMIR?"

Timir stood, deeply unsettled and uncertain. His head was held low, ears pinned, as his gaze shifted suspiciously between Fenmyr and Chaos-Fourteen. He was struggling with this; he was less than an hour old, and being told two opposite things by two separate entities was a jarring experience. He was still wavering as to who to believe, and what to do about it, when Tsvetok turned and made its loud demand.

Timir blinked at it, looking... vaguely hurt. "...Me. That's-" (be loud, remember?) --he blinked again--"THAT'S ME."

He then swung his head back to the others, considering. His tail twitched again, and he had his first stroke of what he'd have probably imagined to be genius, if he'd been old enough for literally any form of self-reflection. Mostly, though, it was vague memory of a conversation from thirty seconds ago, combined with some vague application of logic.

"We... WE ARE HUNGRY." It held the tone of a challenge, his own best attempt at a bellow, and he directed it at both Fenmyr and Chaos-Fourteen. Surely if one were being truthful... helpful, even... it would guide them? Maybe even feed them?

If V-Chaos-Fourteen was actually a rock in disguise, it'd try to eat them, right? Not get them food? Brilliant.

Fourteen sputtered its venom toward her as if she actually cared what it thought, which was twice as offensive than any insult its hollow little head could muster. But she wouldn't lunge, swipe or snap... She was the picture of meditative calm, despite circumstance and company.

The younger hounds didn't take the bait, but they didn't dismiss it entirely. There was an opportunity here still. Fenmyre snapped it up.

"...Rocks are edible. I've eaten plenty. Why don't you start with the one next to me? Its giving me a headache."

Timir was a name. This vaguely registered in Tsvetok's head before it focused on something that was much more important.

It didn't keep its eye on Fourteen. Instead, it swung its scarlet head towards Fenmyre, its feathers bouncing. It knew one thing: rocks were not edible. It'd tried already and it was too hard. "YOU'RE A LIAR!!!" the oversized chicken screeched at the top of its lungs.

Half-ignoring Fourteen, the valkhound started scrabble-running for Fenmyre, claws wailing against the floor. It got about halfway towards the other valkhound, white-hot bile raising in its throat. Through the thin skin of its crop, the glow was visible, illuminating beneath its feathers.

But something went wrong.

There was a horrific HRRRKKKKK as Tsvetok choked on its own bile. Its head reared back and its jaws split, gargling and out of breath. Before it could actually reach Fenmyre to attack her, it fell back and landed with a hollow thunk, choking and coughing up bits of lava-like substance. At least it was a valiant attempt.