Water seemed to swallow Pisces, more so than usual; curtains of rain pounded against the slick river-stone, inundating it and the lagoon --- its edges had swollen and began to lap at the warrens and ridges. The ponds had become part of the deluge, turning Pisces into a singular pool. The downpour battered at his wings, pressed his feathers against his skin. It was simply a blessing that his wings were made to carry something twice his weight; otherwise, he'd be sinking beneath the extra water-weight beginning to soak into his skin.

The sultry heat from Hydra had flooded the caves at one point, drying up much of the Caves's water in the process. This had, included, Canis's sparse few pools. Some had been preserved and purified by a good Samaritan, but water was still quite a sparse commodity. So, naturally, Aure was a bit suspicious when a cloying humidity rose in the air, and water began to flood into the pools once again, in greater sums than before; as if a dam had been opened somewhere. Perhaps, it had been opened here. From... somewhere.

Nevermind how he had actually come to be here --- what was that smell?

His face curled up into a sneer, then warped into a yelp; he had been briefly distracted by the stench and was subsequently accosted by a harsh blow to his wings. Damn rain. It'd be smart to land for a bit, huh? Neither a lammergeier or a hyena were waterproof in the slightest and every second risked Aure winding up smeared on the rocks like a fly on a windshield. Despite the dead-fish smell assaulting him from somewhere down below, Aure was curious. As far as he could tell, there weren't any fish floating around in the floodwaters, glassy-eyed and resembling taxidermy with rigor mortis.

Talons snubbing against stone, quills clicking, he alighted and nearly slipped onto his stomach. Sniffing (and grimacing) the hybrid approached what appeared to be... a pile of something that might've once been waxy-white and beautiful. Not that Aure knew. He just saw something rotting and decaying, as if it were recently killed and the microbes were getting at it. Tentatively approaching and inspecting from all angles, he ran through his limited repertoire of knowledge on marine life. Assuming it was marine. It definitely wasn't a fish.

Poisonous, maybe? His magicka buzzed, urging creeping mycelia and spores through the flood and onto the suspicious mass. A form of necrophagy, but fairly safe, really. The fungi would provide the information he was unwilling to retrieve through tactile means. It never hurt to be cautious.

Nothing.

His magicka ebbed and flowed as normal, though it seemed the deluge was doing no favors to his invisible (to the naked eye) companions. Aure shifted forwards minutely, blunt claws digging into the stone in a sad attempt to keep himself from slipping and sliding around. Ruffling his feathers (a fruitless attempt, really, given that they were slicked back down within seconds) the hybrid tried again to urge fungal spawn and growth, to consume what he assumed as flesh and decay.

Again, nothing.

Grinding his beak, ears pricking back, he squinted down at the suspicious mass. He would glare at the rain, but he wasn't too thrilled with the idea of having a sheet of hard water fall directly into his eyeballs; this lump would have to do. Aure scowled slightly, peeled a wing from his side, and held it over a part of the pile.

Again, he tried.

Aure grimaced as the suspicious mass seemed to almost--- resist the growth of fungi, despite its already-decaying state. Or, apparently. What little did cling to the clusters returned absolutely nothing, nothing but a blank slate. No memories flooding; not even a blip.

Bright eyes trailed the slick surfaces of the rotten mass, hesitant to even get closer. He withdrew his wing, abandoning the investigation attempt. If fungi couldn't even find purchase in all of this, he most certainly shouldn't make contact. His gaze flickered about the dark, torrential Pisces, idly thinking I shouldn't leave this for just anyone to find. Magic welled up in his throat, white-hot and searing for only a moment. Pure radiation bubbled in his throat, coalescing into a mass that quickly sputtered into nothing.

He grimaced again.

If only he knew how to write and the general public knew how to read. If he did, he'd scratch into the earth "don't touch, bad voodoo." Instead, he settled for tossing a few stones atop the lump and turning tail. Maybe the flooding wasn't so weird at all...

It'd be weird if it lasted any longer, though.