Are You My Mummy? - Printable Version

Timir was looking warily between the other two, his stance still, well, stanced up. He was lightly braced, tail out and flicking behind him, eyes flicking dolefully to V-Chaos-Fourteen and then to Fenmyre.

The first real hard choice of his life had been placed before him on a tarnished platter: eat rocks, or leave to seek out someone or something called 'Pegasus' for something called 'easier prey.'

He scrunched up his nose a little, confused. "Grant?" he echoed, head canting ever-so-slightly to one side. "It is my name." Designations hadn't been imparted on him. He'd just woken up, and these were the first creatures he had met: like Tsvetok, he was still even slightly damp. He turned, flinching, as the aforementioned buddy of his (new best friend, maybe) suddenly screamed LIAR. Alarmed, he pulled back, following Tsvetok's gaze. The one with the red face was lying-? How did it know? And-

Oh no. The choking. The coughing. The searing goop. Timir scuttled back a couple steps, hesitated, and scuttled back forward again, suddenly deeply worried. Why was his big glowing pal thrashing around and choking?! Was it something Fenmyre had done?!

Timir glanced up, his first real aggression showing as his face peeled... upward. He had no lips, but the flesh around the teeth rippled, and they seemed to elongate; the snarl was a clear enough gesture as a low and guttural growl sputtered in his chest. Of course, Fenmyre couldn't actually see that. Timir had no idea and to him, it was all (slightly terrified) instinct. For a moment he was frantic to help, and reached for that chaos magic again, hoping desperately to aid against whatever treachery this was!

He felt the magic slither up from his stone, and barked a short command to Tsvetok: "Don't move!" Then his magic was pulling, dragging, snagging on the bits of searing bile in its throat (wherever he could see) and dragging them away, flinging them harmlessly across the rock. (Gross.)

Of course, it was probably weird to look up and see Timir trying to stare down one's throat, but he had to see to help.

Sure, she was testing her siblings patience - had it considered that it was doing the same? That every shift in the air beside her, the brush of its rat-tail against her legs, brought her thoughts of violence closer and closer to reality?

A lot of things were happening, and Fenmyre didn't do well in crowds. Her ears flattened at the screech, overstimulated rather than threatened. She had guessed that she could dispatch most of the Valkhounds here with some ease, given her size and skill compared to this gaggle of hatchlings.

Maybe the crowd would thin sooner than expected. She sidled over to Tsvetok, following the gurgling sound. "I'm not a liar. You just haven't tried hard enough."

Fenmyre sat on her haunches, batting gently at the struggling Valkhound with a massive paw, content to not help Timir even a little bit. "It's a good name. Did you know rocks don't get names? That's how you know they're rocks."

She gestured back to Fourteen with her tail. "That one just got a number. We are not born to be numbers, Timir. Remember this."

A spherical, near-glowing orb of bile rose out of Tsvetok's throat, splitting its jaws. It let out a hacking cough and rolled over, claws scrabbling against the cave floor. For a moment-- for what might be the first, last and only time of its life --it was silent, staring at Timir. Perhaps if it'd been born with eyelids, it would have blinked slowly at him, or if it'd been smarter, audibly said that it was thankful.

As it was, Tsvetok's crest only twitched before falling back over its face as it turned to Fenmyre. "YOU'RE STUPID," it accused. Of course it'd been trying! It'd been trying the hardest to eat that rock the hardest it'd ever done anything in its life! "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!"

Whatever was happening between Fourteen and Fenmyre, Tsvetok did not know. Tsvetok also, as it turned out, did not care. It looked back to Timir. "WE WILL EAT," the Valkhound declared. "WE WILL GO TO--" (pause, it'd forgotten the word 'Pegasus') "--WHERE EVER AND EAT."

And then it began walking off in the wrong direction, towards Tunnel T.

Timir didn't know the waygate was still closed, either. Or what a waygate was. Or, really, what Draco was, or where they were, or... anything much at all.

He also didn't know which if either of their new friends, or enemies, to trust. But Fenmyre complimented his name, so he offered her the wariest, slow nod. And he committed the following fact to memory, bound to get him into trouble later: Not born to be numbers. He didn't know what that meant, yet, but undoubtedly the moment someone tried to assign him one, he'd balk.

Starting a fight with Vargas? Well, if it came to pass, he could blame Fenmyre... once he was old enough to comprehend. If he made it that far. If he remembered.

For the time being, he just glanced between the two who were bickering (and one, departing) and offered a halfheareted snarl, twinned with a deeply guttural growl. But it was a quiet sort of sound, rather than outright threatening. A "leave us alone" and "I'm done with this" and "I don't know what rocks are, I guess" sort of noise.

He then turned to stalk alongside Tsvetok, confident in the bonds they'd now forged against such horrific hardships.

Admittedly, Fenmyre was probably the more dangerous "hardship" than "rocks," but it seemed Timir'd be a little hard to convince of that fact.

Fenmyre itched delicately at the scruff under her chin, unbothered, moisturised, thriving. She would not let this squealing lizard get under her skin, when she was clearly better than everyone in the room and everyone clearly understood that. But she did allow herself one interjection. "Vargas' mistake. Neither of us would exist if it weren't for him."

If you're so eager to lick the boot, at least credit him correctly. it was a a collaborative effort.
"I know more than you." It spoke sweetly to Tsvetok, tone flicking back from cold disdain. "You should listen to your elders."

There. Good advice for both of them. That way they'll survive long enough for Fenmyre to find them again - if the war didn't take them first.

"Good talk. We should do it again." Fenmyre turned away, skulking back to the Spire. But it wouldn't let its sibling off the hook entirely for all the insolence spat her way. With a flick of her tail, her magic lashed out towards it, banishing it briefly to a place where no one would hear it scream.

With that, she made her leave.