Within the chrysalis, they shifted. There were no eyes to open; but there were mouths. One by one, they opened. Testing. The mouths closed; an ear jerked. A foot moved and bumped off the very edge of the walls of the ammolite stone. It was black. Everything entirely, was black, but there was something else. There was a warmth just beyond what they could feel.

Once more, they shifted. They hadn't been very aware of themselves for long, but aware they were. They knew their back was craned awkwardly against the sturdy walls of their home; they knew their left hind leg was awkwardly cramped under their weight.

There was not a lot of room in their prison; but there was barely enough for their tail to slither back and forth carefully, as if testing to see if it worked. There was enough room for the creature to shift and then shove their shoulders back into the walls of the chrysalis roughly.

Within mere seconds the creature felt the rock splinter away and crack under them. The cold hit their shoulders like a rough kick and they fell backwards onto the cold cave floor. A whine left one mouth; a croak left the beak. The maw of the tail was entirely silent, only lifting to stare blankly at a wall.

Their shoulders heaved; but otherwise, they were entirely silent.

Baroque had come to Bevy's den, not for the first time, to look for her. He could find her in the stone, and if he was ....... feeling particularly brave, in the pebbles that marked her grave. He actually spent a surprisingly large amount of time in the den that was not nor ever would be his, his curiosities working away at the edges of his thoughts.

Somedays he learned more than he didn't, but it seemed like today was a bad day. The gems that grew away in the corner made him nervous, afraid that somehow they were watching him. He didn't mean to disturb Bevy or her stones, he just wanted-- no, needed-- to know more about their old leader. For her child, and his friend, Remedy. She deserved to have all the stories in the world about Bevy.

A crack broke through the air and the half grown cub jolted out of his fur, his head turning back over his shoulder to see what had happened. A gembound had hatched from the stone, a thing made of red and black feathers-- with a large, snaking tail. His big blue eyes stared for a long, breathless moment, before he found the courage to step towards it.

"H-hello, little one. Welcome..."

Slinking low to the ground - enough to mat down his belly fur from the constant mist that covered everything in Pisces - Hawthorne followed his gentle lion-bear friend stealthily. Or, well, as stealthy as anything with four hooves and a need to purr at everything could be. Tip-tapping along, ducking behind every rock and boulder on the way, the little buck kept up his mostly-silent watch. Baroque kept disappearing for hours, and no matter how much he'd looked, the cub was nowhere to be found. So instead of simply returning to his father's side after their latest meet-up, he'd only waited a few minutes before slowly moving to track where, exactly, his closest compatriate had been sequestered away.

It seemed the road ended at a... den? Floppy ears pitched forward, and Hawthorne peered over the stone he'd hidden behind, curious, tail raising to resemble a fluffy flagpole. Why would he...? Whiskers twitching, the buck made to round his hiding spot and slowly move closer - until a loud crack! rang out. Panic made him freeze, warring with the protective loyalty in his gut, and he stayed still as a statue until Baroque's soft voice twisted through the air. A long exhale later, and the hybrid was trotting towards the den, grateful for the pretense of investigating the noise. Poking his head inside, he grinned at Baroque, not hesitating to move to his side with a loud, rumbling purr, gently brushing a cheek over his snout and bumping their foreheads together.

And then he turned his attention to the noise, purr stilling at the sight of... a baby? Golden eye widening, Hawthorne slunk towards it - and started to purr again, because... well. The newborn didn't seem to have eyes anywhere. Stopping a good foot away, partly out of concern and partly out of his general all-consuming anxiety, the buck's tail swished back and forth - and his benitoite eye began to spark, brighter and brighter, until the light seemed to diffuse across orange and white fur, turning it all a pale, pleasant gold. Words, per usual, failed him, curled up and shrugged off his attempts, but he could, at least, let the babe know he was here by purring.

Really loudly.

Which might have been annoying, but Hawthorne rarely considered such things.

They stopped breathing. They stopped moving. Cold terror shot down their spine as they heard a step; felt the source of the warmth. They were not alone; and the unknown warm-thing was soon accompanied by a secondry warm-thing that was tapping.

And then warm-thing no. 1 spoke; which caused warm-thing no. 2 to begin emitting a low quiet hum. Their ears flickered before their shoulders began to shake. Suddenly, all at once, the beak on the eyeless hybrid's throat began screaming.

It was a horrible sound - one filled with terror. It caused a chain reaction among the creature's body - shortly after the beak-mouth began shrieking the hybrid's ears flattened against it's skull and the canine's mouth began wailing too out of fright. The snake-mouth, however, was silent, tongue flickering.

The humming was getting closer; stocky paws scratched the floor of the den; searching desperately for... well, definitely something that they couldn't find. The beak continued to shriek as the canine's maw slowly developed into soft, scared whimpers.

Baroque's curiosities died as soon as he saw what the creature really was. It was some kind of mash up of bird, ..... canine and snake, and by the Caves, it was loud. Baro was sure his whole family would come charging in to find that he and-- Thorne, oh, at least his friend was here with him-- had stumbled into the hatching newborn child of Bevy only to scare the beejebus out of it.

The grizzly lion had no words, as tears broke out into his face, staining his cheeks like they always did. He scampered forward and put his paws around Thorne, pulling him back. His eyes slammed shut to try and stop the torrent as he struggled to find words, comforts, anything he could give to the child so it would stop screaming. He didn't want to hurt it, he wanted to help, to welcome it, like he had Thistle and Nova and everyone else.

Instead, however, his magic short circuited in his panic. It was probably for the best that his frantic thoughts didn't reach the baby, for a searing pain shot through his head-- and not from his ears, which he thought had to be bleeding by now-- and he bit back a whimper of pain. Hearing his friend purr, he forced himself to take up that rumble too. Maybe if they both purred loud enough and didn't do anything to scare the blind child further, maybe it would calm down.

He simply didn't know what else to do. Everything really hurt though.

It seemed to be working, for a moment - a tiny smile twitched at Thorne's muzzle, and he opened his mouth to speak, purr growing louder... and then the baby started screaming. Loudly. The buck yelped, pupil shrinking to a pinpoint as he reared back in fear, scrambling up to all fours, letting Baroque pull him back to relative safety, tears stinging his eye. "I-I-I d-didn't m-mean t-to!" He didn't know what he'd done wrong, exactly, but fat tears were already rolling down his cheeks, and the hybrid finally ducked behind his friend, panicked breathing almost silent underneath the shrieking.

Shaking fiercely, purr now a self-directed security blanket, the buck fell silent, the glow skittering across his fur growing dark in segments, only to fizzle back to life erratically.

All noise ceased from the hybrid's mouths as their sister emerged; not even a squawk came out of them as they turned, canine head angled towards the general direction of the noise from their sister. They couldn't see her, but they could feel her.

They began scrambling backwards - stocky legs pushing back and back legs scraping against the rock and stone. Eventually, they hit the wall with a strangled whimper leaving their throat as they waited for their sister to do more than just watch and squawk at the strangers that had came into this strange place.

Baroque, had he been younger, would have probably burst out into a blubbering mess when the elder cat, ------------ Bartos, appeared and asked what was going on. He hushed them both, urging them to give the babies some space. Now, Baro really wanted to help but he also felt like absolute garbage after his miserable, failed spell. He stared, frightened and in agony, at the two newborns.

"I-isn't there anything we can do?" He asked softly, ignoring the pinpricks of tears in his eyes. As it was, he had more or less given up. In fact, he lowered his head bellow the tiny, limping feline and instead sulked out of the den, leaving the babies behind. He wanted to help but... Really, what could he do?

There wasn't much, that was for sure. He left it up to Bartos, nudging Hawthorne gently. "M-maybe we could go find them some flowers... or something? I don't know." He didn't know how to help creatures that screamed and screamed. He could handle crying, but that... Those things needed help that he wasn't prepared to give.

He just wished he understood them.