The citrine had been sitting full of life for many, many cycles. Any gembound could think that perhaps it would never hatch - simply sit as a decorative piece within Oliver's garden. As the gemstone casing grew, the gembound inside hadn't tried to escape. It wasn't ready yet - but now?

Day by day the citrine had gone through a slow transition. From one whole, to cracks amongst the top. Those cracks spread further, eventually reaching the midsection.

As the fully grown hybrid slides from the cavern, they take their first real breath. Their soft blue eyes open to an unfamiliar world full of wonders. They quickly wipe their face of wetness and take their first steps.

"Hello?"

Oliver reeled. To say the crack of gemstone was unexpected was an understatement. He'd heard of children hatching late, but he'd actually forgotten that this citrine was ever meant to house a child. That is to say--he hadn't forgotten literally, of course. But for so many cycles he'd watched it hopefully, expectantly, then worriedly... that eventually it had just become part of his background, part of his day. He would pass it and lay a clawed hand on it, chatting briefly. Sometimes he told it about the goings-on in the cave, at first with a wistful grief (imagining that it would never hatch, and that his speech was pointless), and later out of habit. It'd become an almost friend to him, just a shining stone he kept well-hidden with moss and undergrowth, but visible enough if one knew where to look. Sometimes he'd slept close, no longer imagining it would one day bear true life.

And now?

He had scrambled to it, eyes wide. His jaw hung open in a parody of shock, worked, and then formed squeaking words. "You're alive." He blinked. What a stupid thing to say! Briefly he took in their appearance: the feathering and fur, the wings not unlike his own--the rest of it so different. They were white and gold, a wonderful opposite to his midnight black, and he beamed abruptly, joy spilling over. "You're alive! I mean--hello! I'm Oliver! I'm your dad!"

He was almost more childlike than fatherly as he drew closer, gaze shining. If a child could hatch after so long--then anything was possible. One could hope, one could wish, and anything might come true! He sat a couple paces away, careful not to crowd the full-grown 'child.' "Do you have a name?" he asked, heart racing with excitement.

They would live!

You're alive. The words saturate Ailbhe' pointed ears in a voice they've heard plenty of times before. The one that had spoken to them while they were still imprisoned within the old Citrine stone. Now that they are free, Ailbhe can point a face to the calm voice.

They are so much alike, yet very different.

"Oh!" Oliver's excitement is contagious, making the gembound grin back. "My dad!"

If Ailbhe understood more about this life-thing, they might be sad about waiting so long to emerge. Instead their feathered tail swishes side to side happily.

"I am Ailbhe!" The name comes to them in a flash, as if they'd chosen it despite not knowing what a name really is.

Being alive is already so nice.

Oliver grinned brightly, somehow sheepish, just so excited and disbelieving that he could barely hold it in. For just a moment, a sliver of a fraction of a second, his madness did not occupy the forefront of his mind. And he didn't even notice, so focused was he on Ailbhe. Because--that was their name!

"Ailbhe! That's a good name," he complimented warmly, despite not really having been made a professional arbiter of such things at any point. "Um--you've been in your stone for awhile. A long time. I can help you with things! You're--in a bunch of caves. That's where we live. We live in caves," he rephrased, simplifying in case the kid...? (Were they a child?!) ...didn't understand. "Hungry? Thirsty?" he asked, and held out a wing-paw-hand as if in offering, as if to touch. The limb remained extended, the gemstone shimmering on one finger like a ring, inviting Ailbhe's hand to join it.

He'd hug, but he didn't really have arms.