Wet stone upon wet stone and glimmering crystals. The very air hummed with some forsaken power that 'struck' 'tingled' through their 'shell' 'bones'. It was a foreign feeling, one reminiscent of their own internal light. The chimera crept into the Core on mismatched
legs, with reddish eyes that faced every direction and hands that graced the faceted stones. They breathed in charged air and looked upon a star-speckled ceiling in wonder. This place was new. It was strange.

They liked strange. And after the awkward hatching they had in Gemini, it was a wonderful breath of fresh air.

Little wisps of cave clouds straggled along the cavenous roof and led several hundred eyes to a great, glowing spire in the distance. Their interest peaked. 'Radiant. magical.' The air-sparks seemed to be drawn to it, and it drew them too, little feet clacking as they made their way to the monument. It was a long way for a small beast, but the bee-boy trekked in a jaunty mood until they reached it. Blue, creased with pitch black. Crackling sparks seemed to emnate from all around it and contrasted sharply with the stone floor. They stalled close-- but not too close, for those magical thrums did not seem all that friendly to Matt. Black-and-gold stayed a respectable distance away.

A thought struck the two-headed amalgam. Nothing special, no. Just a simple 'Practice inner-spark,' at the sight of the coursing magic. Their insect-toddler legs folded down, Bee (or whatever the insect-part called herself at this point) facing the Spire curiously as her other half clasped onto their stone. A simple thought, some archaic prayer for magic, and a soft violet-black light leaked from their opal. It spread in a short radius around Matthieu, making some gemstones glow while dulling others. They liked this magic. The way it had a soft, but noticeable effect, and turned their perception of the world upside-down. It made them giddy.

The Spire crackled, looming over like a distant shadow.

Ah, it was the little grub again. Matthieu's upper head turned slowly to watch her approach, still distorted slightly in purple tones. They didn't know how to feel about this thing. It did help him break out of his crystal, but then again the siamese twins weren't very keen on liking anyone. Or hating anyone. They just viewed passively, a scientist observing their rats.

"Hello," both of them echoed. Baby tones and toddler words. She looked up at the great Spire, and Bee did too- well, she didn't really have to look up given her compound eyes. It was pretty. Magical. Seemingly benign. They wanted to crush it beneath their feet. Wouldn't that be fun? But the fusion made no movement. They were just a child now, and a child that was easily dwarfed by the massive structure.

Instead they turned their gaze to Arwen. The grub. Stubby legs, a porcelain mask soundly over her mandibles. She clicked her own, testing out how they worked in comparison to hers. It was cool. But then they reached over and tapped on their upper, fleshy shoulders and asked for their name.

Name. Name. Did they have a name? No, not really. They avoided the question before, but the two of them figured they couldn't go without one forever. 'Bee-- Boy" They bickered. Which one of them to be the face, the name of this abomination? They couldn't decide. But only on the inside, between nerve connections that linked two brains. On the outside the striped horror remained silent. Still. Thinking. '--That's an absolutely horrible name-- I don't care-- Let's just go with something new.'

And so they thought. Small, alien thoughts. Gembounds had that uncanny ability to pull any string of sounds off the top of their head and call it a name, and they decided to use it. And they used it. What meaningless combination of throat noises suited them best? What melody to their megalomania?

Eventually, they chose. Matthieu. But they didn't want to say it, not until this grub gained their complete trust. 'I like her,' Bee protested. But it was futile. "I won't give you it," There was no malice behind the toddler's words, only calculation. He looked down at their body, forever stuck facing his other's rear. It had six even stripes. Stripes... "You can call me 'Six Stripes'." It would've sounded more impressive if they weren't a babbling baby, but he had to live with it. At least Bee was quieting down in the headspace.

A snap of his fingers, and the bisected child tried to conjure up some more magic. Not their native element, but something else, green and growing. But they didn't want to make pretty little flowers or daisies, no. They wanted something sharp. But it didn't exactly go to plan, as dark thistle began ripping through the skin of his arm, thorns digging into his muscle and poking out like pufferfish spines. Bee shifted a bit from the sensation but their upper head remained stoic, watching the thorns tear through his skin with nothing more than a frown. And, just as emotionless as before, he grabbed the vine with his other hand and wrenched it from his flesh, watching the inky blood shower out from the gashes before casually throwing the stem away. That was going to take a while to heal.

Instead of acknowledging their slip-up, they simply turned to look upon the crackling spire once more. Feeling the magical wind through their fur. "What do you think that does?"

Watching the Spire, inky blood dripping from their arms. The grub had spoken, introduced herself as the Queen. The Queen of Lies. Or perhaps bees. For a moment they wondered what a bee was, before remembering that one of them was literally named Bee. Did that make her her queen? Their half-queen? A queen was a ruler, right? Either way, they were flattered she decided to go with a fake name like theirs.

The tingle in his wound was more of a surprise, Boy's arm gripping it protectively the moment he felt it start. His rosy eyes flicked to the grub, but her cheerful demeanor stopped her from asking any questions. It was just a benevolent spark of magic, washing all the impurities away until it felt squeaky clean under his grasp. A surprise. Bee was the one to move this time, giving Arwen a short nod while her upper examined himself, before moving back to stare at the spire.

That wasn't to say they were ungrateful, just that a massive column of pure magic rock towering over was a bit more interesting.

While the Queen of Lies shivered back, Matthieu pressed forwards, the Fair Folk intrigued now that his little magic spree was over. "The magic." (they called it "inner spark", but it wasn't hard to link the two terms together.) Bee looked the whole thing over at once, Boy twisting around to examine the finer details in turn. Humming. Buzzing. More thoughts registered through their minds, their twisted body, contemplating it. Considering it. Finally: "I want it."

With the amount of stupidity only expected from a toddler, Matthieu shambled forth and tried to pry a shard off the Spire. Feet pushing, hands grabbing, Boy twisting his spine all the way around to grab onto the great column. Their pudgy hands made contact for the briefest moment, a wince spreading across their features from the sensation, but they found they were unable to break any of the neon blue crystals off. That was certainly for the best.

A painful jolt (full of magic, of fire) rippled through Matthieu's flesh, both their minds sounding the alarm to step aside. Boy did so, peeling back his shuddering fingers and looking at the bruised flesh with a wince. That was unpleasant. All they wanted was to take it's power for their own! But even the tingling of the charged downdraught felt nauseating at this point, so the fusion grudgingly took several steps back out of the danger zone.

The Queen spoke, and Bee winced a little at how commanding she spoke. 'Don't do that again.' A warning shared between neurons. The beetaur's voice was still affectionate, though, so they didn't mess up big time. Not like they cared how she felt about them.

"Rats. Rats dancing." Rats were the tiny, insignificant objects that scurried around the corners, right? The mental image of them seizing distracts them for the briefest second. But back to the question. "It felt like fire." Their upper folded over, rubbing his burnt hands on her fur. "Sweet fire that burns away your skin. Full of magic. Electrifying."

A simple flex of their still-sore hands, trying to conjure what they did before. After what just happened they were paranoid if any facet of theirs had been taken away. Just a simple, nice thistle. But of course, Matthieu's magic had other plans, and the thorny flower just ripped straight through his other, still spasmed hand. "Not again," Boy sighed; Bee took it as the cue to scooch them even further from the Spire and against a boulder, glancing at Arwen passively. The insect took the reigns this time: "No need for help," came the alien rumble. "We have it."

Bee's large frame paced back and forth while the humanoid focused his efforts on tearing out the (even more tangled) flower roots. "We shall step away from the crystal. It brings pain. One day I shall take it as our own." But enough with the Disney supervillain monologues-- Matthieu climbed onto the large granite boulder they were just leaning on, looking down at Arwen (and the Spire) with clear eyes.

"Why do you communicate with the blue one? And the small, white one?" The question came out of nowhere. Bee fiddled with a stone between her limbs as she spoke. "Are they food? Am.. Ammunition? I do not understand why you do it. Please, tell us."

The bee beast crouched atop their boulder as Boy ripped out the last of those annoying roots. Watching her. Reading her words.

The Queen of Lies spoke honestly, ironically enough. At least, they thought it was honest. The smarter of the two was too busy dampening the blood from two wondrous wounds to tell the difference. Marshmallow was the white fuzzy one, apparently. And she was the grub's "familiar," a spy. The blue ('nasty') one was the lover. The word love was a foreign thing, a strange intrusion into the system of methodical power they were more attuned to. But they absorbed the words nonetheless, filtering it into their general knowledge.

A few questions still remained: why did she love the blue thing, of all things? Why did she consider it a useful aspect? They guessed the answer laid in love. They missed the poetry in that.

"Strange." Was all they contributed. Boy swept all the wilted leaves into a tiny, bloody pile beneath his feet. "Your 'Marshmallow' and 'Blue one' did not like us much." Boy's eyes glanced at Arwen and the cave behind them, while Bee kept staring blankly ahead. "Made very unpleasant noises when I demonstrated. Sad." Ah, that was why he came here to begin with, yes? They almost forgot about their shouting with all the Spire business they got themselves into. They weren't sure if they could ever consider them true friends, at least not for a long time.

And then came the proposal. No, not the romantic kind-- a proposal for him to join her "hive" of acquaintances. The bee's mandibles twisted into some insectoid version of a smile for the briefest moment. "We are alike, yes. But we don't want a... a queen. We just want magic." (Which had, frustratingly, abandoned him for the time.) "Hard to have your own power when being ruled over. But maybe. We will consider the offer. For now let's be friends."

Matthieu twisted Boy's head and peeled back his lips to reveal a rather disturbing smile. Still, it was a friendly one. Quietly, the two of them seated atop the boulder, the humanoid still rubbing his hands together. "Long day," he yawned (which was true-- he spent most of it trekking away from Gemini). "Wish we can practice more magic, but am tired and sore. Actually..." they both tilted their heads. "We'll try one more thing."

With a little bit of concentration, wispy shadows began leaking from the dark corners around Matthieu, cloaking their body in a transparent, weak shade. Not the strongest effect, but better than his last two attempts. "Isn't this cool?" They smiled, kicking their legs out and watching the shadows move with them. "This is why I like the inner-spark. The magic."