In the shadows of Origin Cave, a gembound hobbles through the world, isolated and alone. Since her eviction (as she calls it) month ago, she’s grown in body, but not in spirit. Still afraid, still unsure, she moves only when she has to. After her failed attempt at socialization as an infant, she’s stuck mainly to herself, too wary of rejection to make an effort again.

Long, spindly legs are sturdier now, but stress has stunted her and she’s smaller than she should be. Thin enough for her ribs to be visible, the points of her hip bones jut out at awkward, unpleasant angles, but still she cannot bring herself to thrive. She eats because she has to, she moves because she has to, but this is a forced existence, the fear of what lies beyond being the only thing keeping her alive.

@Eosphoros

There is a shadow at the edges of the cave - one he doesn't know, one unnoticed by the angels occupying Orion. It is small, but too big to be a child, and he's immediately on edge, silver eyes narrowing as he struggles to stand. He'd rested for a while with the twin angels who'd brought him to this sanctuary, but they couldn't stay with a husk forever, and had left him to at least attempt to sleep. The bloody, tacky burn wounds that covered his front like an ugly tapestry had slowly stopped bleeding, and when he rose only tiny rivulets found their way through the cracks.

Progress, at least.

Slowly, he slunk towards the strange shape, ears pinned back. He couldn't let a demon in here, not with so many angels in one place, all ripe for destruction - but the closer he got, the slower he walked, gaze widening, because the shadow looked like him, bones and dried skin shambling, barely alive.

Huffing, he stopped, short feet away, staring blankly at the mirror image. Without a voice, without a way to hear them, all he could do was watch, tired curiosity mixing with terror and a protective instinct to rival a parent's.