Of the gemstones that had been hidden away in Shango's chosen crevice, this one--a dull cluster of unremarkable orange-red--would wind up with a child most incongruous to itself. The stone seemed to hint at something tawny and bold: something aggressive, maybe, or at the very least, brightly-colored.

But the shifting form behind the ever-thinner shell was hardly bold, and not at all red in color. The only thing this figure shared with its wulfenite was being unremarkable, dull in appearance.

Past the plateau of glowing crystals, hidden in the dark, this figure twisted feebly against its gemstone once again. Awareness was growing only gradually: for now, a dim recognition of self, a vague sense of wet and warm, a rising twist of comfort into claustrophobia.

When at last it felt too tight--when the stone had thinned, and fluid had begun to sift through emerging cracks--oversized paws pressed soft against the rock, and pushed.

Shango padded over, his own paws clicking with the unnatural sheathe of hoof-like keratin at their base. Ahh--one of the babies was about to hatch! Good! It wasn't one of the owl-cat's, either--it was one of his.

...Cool.

"Hello," he told the stone, and with affectionate aggression, headbutted the stone hard enough to crack it.

He stepped back, scorpion's tail-tip flicking, to allow the infant within to spill forth. His voice--vaguely yowling, certainly not soothing--continued moments later. "I'm Shango. I'm your dad," he informed the bundle of wet fur. Then he leaned down, sniffing, moving to groom and clean the goop from this new child's fur.

The crack of stone and spill of fluid turned warmth to cooling chill, and the sudden impact of rock below jolted more awareness into Hades than anything else yet had.

"Ack," he hacked, softly, pushing up and shuddering as he coughed liquid from his newborn lungs. He huddled in on himself, and the voice--followed by a harsh feline grooming--nearly knocked him over again. He twisted, trying to blink away the goop enough to see this 'Dad.'

Shango was a figure somewhat larger than himself, at the moment (though when Hades grew, he would swiftly outstrip him). His eyes glowed a ghostlight green, one he was unaware that his own already mirrored. The scalefeathered mane and gemstone horns took up much of the cub's vision, and he yawned--feeling saber teeth that Shango also shared--and quickly settled into this feeling of being... safe.

Attention quickly wandered, nascent mind slowly taking in the details of his surroundings: glowing crystals, the tang of magic in the air, shadows and purple stones. "Ad," he tried, and gave a cub's little yowling (second) yawn. "Dad." He blinked, and looked up at Shango, unconcerned; his own stub tail gave a little lash as if to imitate his father's own.

He reached out with his paws, and tapped at the rock. Then he reached out with his magic, prodding at the sparking feel of it around him--and the faint swell of it made him feel a little stronger.

Shango was pleased that this kid wasn't terrified of him, or aggressive, or anything like that. His kids were usually good kids, though--the ones that hatched, anyway. (This thought was accompanied by a brief glance at the other two, still-motionless gemstones.) Once he'd finished cleaning the bulk of mess from his new cub's fur, he took a closer look at him.

Dull gray, with slightly darker rosettes like Shango's own. He'd felt the little thorns in the fur, like his; and there were... paws, and saber teeth, and a feline face with his own eyes. Past that, the differences faded: this child was strangely bulky, with the promise of a heavy build, and the tail was a fairly short twist of fur. But there were no wings, no bird's feet, no mane; Shango quickly recognized that this child was more 'cat' than he was. Big cat, too. It was strange how dull he looked, though: that green-gray was almost monochrome, or a least seemed to be now, with the fur still damp. Maybe it'd change once he'd dried off, but compared to Shango's vibrant tones, it was odd to see.

"Should I name you?" he asked the child, already ticking off the mental checklist of things he'd need to teach him. Hunting, magic ("STORM"), and keeping safe, all that sort of thing.

Hades looked up, staring briefly at Shango. Name-?

He sifted through what little information was slowly stocking his newly minted mind, and considered. "No," he answered, softly. He thought about it. And his name came to him, simple but clear. "Hades." He stood up, and shook himself, the last loose fluid spraying from his coat; he was still damp, but no longer dripping. With a low purr he pressed forward, head-butting Shango's chest and rubbing briefly along him with feline affection, stub-tail flailing. And as a gift he tried to pass on a spark of that strengthening magic, too.

Nothing came of it--but Hades couldn't really tell as much, not yet.

Past that he didn't speak--he had no real words, nor any ideas nor questions to put to them. He knew too little about the world to make requests, or even ask questions, as yet.

Hopefully his father would prove to be a diligent parent.

simple hatch thread: complete. exit both