Many cycles might have passed since Centaurus' operations had resumed, yet the passage of time mattered little when few visited to brave the test sites diligent workers had expertly shaped into existence. Worlds came and went, its wonders and dangers undelved and unadmired. Meanwhile within the barracks, the Shapers spent their down hours engaging in their usual pastimes: when not drinking each other under the table, more often than not high stakes card games were played on top of it. Liberal swears flew through the rooms thick as smoke; of course, some contributed to the atmosphere with actual smoke, lighting up pipes a vice as welcome as any other.

Long ago, the presence of the chrysalises stored away amongst all this racket would've been more of a cause for concern. The more conscientious of the Shapers might've given them a tap every so often to see if the creatures dwelling within had at last mustered enough strength to meet their caretakers. But eventually that worry faded to indifference, and those sleeping Gembounds became nothing more than curious fixtures who received no more respect than any other piece of equipment. They served whatever purpose best suited them for the moment—a stool to reach high shelves, a side table next to someone's bed, or even a chair if all the best seats in the house were taken.

The everyday goings-on of Shaper life had settled into an old and familiar pattern. It was during what could've been considered an uneventful evening of chain-smoking and card-dealing that the sound of cracking stone emerged. Blanketed by the usual flung cusses and guffaws at lewd jokes, it likely would've gone unnoticed. But then the noise multiplied, all three of Fleas' unusual litter announcing they'd had enough of the established status quo.

Whereas the rest entered their lives with a clear view of the strangeness and strangers surrounding them, this child's moments began in relative darkness. Were it not for the steady breaths pulsating the mass of rough-skinned flesh that'd spilled onto the floor from a chrysalis gleaming fluorescent green, likely there'd have been doubts whether this even was a living creature. A mop of tentacles with the shriveled hind legs of another beast welded onto it, the misshapen sight could've been an unfortunate failure at producing a life instead. But hidden beneath this horror, confused blinks took in the suckered curtains shrouding her head, unable to locate the source of the sounds pressing in on every side.

It was the snuffle against her mantle that caused her to finally stir out of the slumped position. Nose twitching in imitation of the sniffs heard and felt, she wiggled forward and butted against that which concealed her presence. First a snout poked out from between tendrils. Hesitance nearly withdrew it, but shy curiosity encouraged the malformed being to press onward. Five bright eyes emerged, their hue reminiscent of the stone she'd been birthed from. Pointed ears followed, this last thrust flopping the child into a sideways position, useless jackal limbs cast parallel to the ground.

She lay there shivering. Lack of comprehension and desperation for answers loosed a plaintive whine from sharp-toothed jaws.

Long confinement within a chrysalis didn't come absent of consequences. Full physical maturity had been achieved, stone walls protecting the growing sleeper inside them, yet this sturdy barrier now proved guilty too for stunting the child in other respects. Eyes closed and surrounded by adamite, never had she encountered the stimuli necessary for sparking thought. Speech centers that should've been lit up by cycles worth of interaction were weak, atrophied to the point they could've belonged to a juvenile instead. As the deluge of Shaper chatter and cheer washed over her, she squirmed, tentacles slapping the ground in a struggle to adjust herself into a more comfortable pose. Words poured into the empty vessel of her mind, an overwhelming flood for someone absolutely clueless about the various concepts mentioned. Jaws clacked together as she flailed beneath this current, and stress released in the form of another meaningless keen.

She grasped for something, anything to keep her head above water. "A... wake. Waa... ake. Errr?"

Uncomprehending blinks greeted the offer of beer. Possession of a toddler's curiosity in a grown body drove Waker to drag herself closer to these strangers. While she hadn't been in this world for more than a mere minute at best, she'd be a fool to not recognize how different the Shapers were from her. Clothes and tools not understood at the moment to be separate from flesh and fur, a tentacle stretched toward the closest worn belt for an inquisitive tug.

So unusual. What was this with its dangling bits, and why did she lack it?