Cetus was no stranger to weird gembound. It housed all manner of strange creature. And recently another had joined those ranks. The muggy cave was normally silent save the drone of insects, but today more sounds interrupted that quiet. A dollhouse, large enough to hold the average dog, trotted through here. It bled it's intense orange light into the pale fog, creaking and clacking as it went. It's two chicken legs carried it, and a static pane-like eye flicked about it's surroundings, emotions unparsable.

Every now and then the eye would hone in on something, and the chicken beast would pause to observe it. It never seemed disappointed by these objects of it's attention. Perhaps all was new to it. New things would be privy to it's joy in its' physical motions. It's legs would flail in airborne kicks, then it would climb upon the object, Its' windows slamming open and shut rapidly. This latest object, a log overgrown with swamp weeds, was briefly subjected to an attempt to house it inside the dancing hut.

When this latest attempt failed, 572 tapped it's claws in disappointment, and hopped off, continuing it's travel. So far, everything that had caught its' eye had been too large to fit it. But 572 was still on the move. It was only a matter of time until something moving, something small enough to actually fit caught its' attention.

The house might yet have been small, but it was still a point of interest. The fact that it was not scaled, feathered, or furred likely worked in its favor today: it was not a beast, an animal, a predator, when viewed through a Lesser Gembound's eyes.

And it was, in some respects--though again small--an interesting, moving vantage point.

Like a tortoise.

The first Hallowed Caller that swept down was glossy black, a single crimson eye in its forehead gleaming as it attempted to neatly land atop the spine of Five Seven and Two's roof. It lingered only a moment before fluttering away again--but there were more of them, these curious birds, and after a moment of exchanging haunting cries that carried far into the fog, they came.

Four black and two albino white birds landed in the branches of the trees overhead, inspecting the moving little house--and now and then one would try to land, peering down with twitches of its head this way and that as it looked over the strange, organic shingles.

@Five Seven and Two

Five Seven and Two froze still as it felt the first caller land on its head. It distantly felt tip tap of claws above. It may have only been a brief touch, but its attention, too, had been instantly grabbed. It turned, looking towards the caws from the trees. It was delighted to see not just one new thing, but six of them. Its' bird feet stamped the ground in a tiny dance, spinning in a circle. It shuddered in joy, its' wooden body creaking and clacking at the new things. New things that moved and looked! Looked at it! Landed on it! New friends! Besides itself and unable to communicate its joy, its' windows and door rapidly shuttered and opened, clapping.

As soon as a caller landed on it, the hut would freeze solid, afraid to risk scaring them away. Once they flew off, its' dance of joy began anew. It leapt in the air, flapping its' side wings, jangling its flickering lantern, trying to entice them to come back down. This cycle continued, until it finally sprinted for a patch of wet peat and moss, digging up and spraying soil haphazardly about with a maddened energy. It settled in a puff of moss and dirt, side windows still sometimes flapping. Its' miniscule door opened, and it jingled the lantern once again, trying to entice them to return. The sound didn't travel, though it wished so, and the hut only sat and waited, its singular eye glowing.
@Lumut

Lumut's experience thus far with life in general had been a very sweet and friendly little bird. This bird, in her mind, was three things: they were Nymph, they were kind, they were soft. Soft was very important. Lumut had gone about seeking more soft things after meeting her, and now trundled through Cetus, picking with clumsy baby fingers at clumps of moss, or staring with wide eyes at reed grass.

She'd even found (with a glimmer of magic) and plucked up some moss to prod it into her reddish fur, though it didn't really cling there; most of the little clumps fell away as she walked.

The call of birds drew her--maybe they were like Nymph? When she drew in sight of them, wide-eyed, she found that they were... landing on a. A thing! And the thing, after a moment, began to flap around and leap and jangle.

Fascinated, Lumut lurched back into motion, shambling quickly on four limbs for Five Seven and Two. She paused a little ways away--then moved closer, reaching out with one little hand to try and touch the side of the building. It didn't occur to her to be afraid. She was too busy wondering if Five Seven and Two might be soft.

"Haa-ah?" she said softly, to herself (a baby's babble), and then--"Lumut," which was an introduction, although she thus far assumed Five Seven and Two not to be sentient, but something... like a moving tree.

@Five Seven and Two

Lumut's hand had barely touched the house before it leapt up. What Lumut could feel of its texture in that brief moment was not soft in the slightest. It was hard and slightly rough, as if in the imitation of bark, but strangely warm. The caller upon Five Seven and Two's roof cawed in surprise, fluttering back to the safety of the trees. Five Seven and Two, oblivious to the fact it had scared them, wiggled furiously like a cat about to pounce. There was a new thing here!

Its flat orange and red gaze, leveled onto Lumut, belied the dancing hut's excitable nature. Even now it was dancing about in front of Lumut, never not in motion. Its windows clapped once, then stopped. Gears turned in its head for a scant few seconds, and then it made more noises. Its' windows clapped once, trying to imitate the strange sound that Lumut had made. Another attempt.

One clap, and then a series of rapid claps. It paused, its eyes honing in on the moss Lumut carried. Its' body pitched to the side in what might've been a head tilt, but ended up an unbalanced stumble to stay upright. Once it regained its balance, it immediately moved to lose it. Five Seven and Two raised a leg, wobbling dangerously, as it attempted to reach for and take clump of moss with its foot.

@Lumut

The child was too gentle, too inexperienced, to expect the worst. There was that brief moment of instinctive fear, or at least a startle, when the creature before her clapped a lot, then sprouted legs and reached one for her--but after a short stutter backward a step or two, she paused.

She didn't move as it took some moss--and in fact reached out a hand as it reached for her, trying to feel its leg. Maybe... hold its hand, a little, or its... ankle? Wrist?

"Hhh... Hello," she offered softly. And then, again, "Lumut."

@Five Seven and Two

Five Seven and Two froze when Lumut's hand touched its' ankle, seeming to lock up. It looked much more like a statue than a living thing. It's skin though was a different story and most certainly alive--smooth yet hard with scales, birdlike and leathery. It's skin was ironically cool, compared to it's wood. Seconds passed, and it eventually unfroze, it's chicken claws snagging on a piece of moss.

With animation restored again, it rapidly open and shut it's door in excitement. Five Seven and Two scuttled away a short distance with it's pilfered moss, crouching over it like a dog with a rare treat. It turned the moss over with it's feet, poking at it from various angles. Its' chimney whistled in curiosity. Its single eye blanketed it with orange light that flickered as it blinked. It looked back to Lumut, the moss she carried.

There was a loud creak, reminiscent of a squeal of excitement, and it face planted into the moss. Or, it tried to. It was stopped short by it's lantern, and though the lantern stick came up covered in dirt, it did carry the moss. Hello,it tried to clap out with it's windows. That didn't work. Lumut, it tried to say with the swing of its doors. The creak of it's floor. The scratch of its feet spraying dirt.

A foot stamped in frustration. Those weren't the sounds it wanted. It wanted to share more. Five Seven and Two looked at the orangutan, trying to focus it's will to say something to her. It thought the word 'Lumut', and of the idea of soft moss. But it backfired horribly. There was another squeal overlaid with the sound of snapping--like wood being stretched beyond measure. Five Seven and Two's brain was overloaded with its own thoughts rather than projecting them. Its eye went black and it hunched itself on the ground, door and windows tightly shut.

@Lumut

The baby orangutan was, all in all, utterly oblivious to poor Five Seven and Two's miserable frustrations. Lumut was, herself, studying the retreating leg--and then the moss along her own fur (it was already drying there, dying out) with pursed lips.

She likes moss, she thought (utterly misgendering the house in her mind, because so far everything in her child's conception was a reflection of herself and therefore female). The thought in and of itself, too, was so simplistic it could barely be called a thought, almost more conceptual than linguistic. But the result was the same: little fingers plucked another clump of green, and Lumut pushed carefully up, looking toward Five Seven and Two.

The house was shuttered tight, which gave her a moment's pause. She'd logically heard it moving, even heard its horrifically loud clapping and stomping, but hadn't realized any of what was going on. Her attention was too young to be spent on two entire things at once.

Lumut trudged slowly and carefully forward, feet barely sinking into any mud, so light was she. She then attempted to clamber onto the porch, and stuff the moss with delicate touches into any gaps between the house's wooden planks.

Decoration, of a sort, because she assumed that's what it wanted.

@Five Seven and Two

The backfire and it's pain faded. And for a while, there was nothing, until it felt a presence on its porch. Cautiously, it flickered its window back to life. Five Seven and Two was greeted by not only moss within its planks, but Lumut at it's doorstep. While it loved the moss, simply because it was what Lumut had, it was nothing compared to the joy something on its doorstep brought it. A visitor! A visitor for Five Seven and Two!

Five Seven and Two squeaked and whistled in joy, it's lantern swinging about. A visitor! A visitor to host! To travel with! Unaware if the young orangutan was too large to fit or small enough to enter (as it was also quite young and inexperienced), the dancing hut opened it's door.

Tentatively, as a child would poke an animal they knew was dangerous, it reached out threads of its consciousness again. It wanted it's will to be heard by Lumut. There was no painful backfire, which it had braced itself for, but it found it's will, it's thoughts and wants of being a home, of Lumut's name, unsent. There would be a soft whisper at the edges of Lumut's mind, more like a distant breeze than anything substantial. It was to be expected-- Five Seven and Two was still learning, after all. It was unaware itself if the intent it projected had been recieved, and only clapped it's windows in anticipation.

"Speech."

@Lumut

The hole that opened in the house drew Lumut's eye, of course, innocent and curious. She pushed forward, reaching out tentative fingertips to prod at the frame, and then attempted to delve within. Even at her tiny size, however, the door was teensy--hardly more than a claustrophobic coffin within--but she tried to squeeze past nonetheless.

In a friendly sort of manner, Lumut patted the side of the house--then sat down exactly in the doorframe, half-in, half-out. It was possible that the door, if it opened outward, could just close and sweep her in. But right now she seemed not to understand what it was that was wanted of her.

She reached inside, though, probing the dark with careful prods. "Lumut," she told the house quietly. Then she patted it again, sat back, made herself comfortable, and began to pick her nose.

A few moments later she was drifting off--eyes sliding shut, apparently quite content to remain just where she was.

I apologize for lumut apparently taking her verbal cues from pokemon - edited into an exit due to inactivity

@Five Seven and Two