Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

"Yuck!" He decided, sticking his tongue out through rows of sharp teeth to emphasize. That was a word he didn't like: yuck. It signified something bad, and therefore the word itself was bad, leaving an uncomfortable feeling on his tongue. Mud was okay, a weird in-between word, and friend was good, but yuck? Oh, he didn't even like to think it!

"Friend!" He declared it simply, chirping it like a fact rather than an agreement between parties. He had decided it already, but hearing Fahl return the sentiment made his tail flap around again, sending mud flying. Fahl liked Mocha, and Mocha liked Fahl! Great! Oh, he liked that word too!

Pulled from his quickly shifting thoughts, Mocha nodded along blankly at the iguana's instruction. Follow water? That he could do! Finding a tunnel under the water? There was a lot of water to search!
The offer unfurrowed his brow (when did he furrow it to begin with?!) and his tail started back up again. It seemed that the gembound never stopped moving, whereas Fahl seemed to barely move. Was that because he was a shark and Fahl was an iguana? Or was that because he was Mocha and Fahl was Fahl? "Please!" He accepted the offer without hesitation, not much liking the idea of going alone. Not yet, at least.

He was glad that Fahl didn't seem bothered by his few words. They seemed to understand each other well enough, even without lengthy sentences and wide vocabularies. "Can you show me more?" He began, already starting to waddle in the direction he'd been told. "Magic, later?" He clarified, wondering what else his new friend could do.

@Fahl

Being asked about more magic demonstrations was equivalent to asking Fahl whether he required air to breathe. The improvement of his power and the great shows of it he strove to eventually create once he possessed the proper finesse and strength—those were just as integral to his life as swimming and fishing. It was the single thing he absolutely had to excel at if he ever wished to stand a chance against the staggering hierarchy of Masters, Valkhands, and the mysterious Creator behind them all. Furthermore, he simply enjoyed the control derived from wielding his inner spark, a feeling much preferred to the frustration of speaking around his gemstone-embedded tongue.

"Later?" he said, a sporting glint emerging in his eye. "How about I show you a few tricks on the way."

His main specialty being fire, not too many spells could be executed without risk of injury. However, that didn't mean he had zero options available for showing off. Adventures undergone for the sake of chasing glory and aiding his mentor had provided him a decent repertoire outside of blazes and burning. He only needed to channel willpower in the right direction: toward Mocha's rapidly waddling form for this example.

In a few fleeting heartbeats, the iguana's image flickered, the very air around him shimmering as if he'd become a walking mirage. Then, as the weird distortion faded away, another Fahl tore free from his silhouette to rush after the younger Gembound. The subtle shift of particles composing this duplicate's body gave away its illusory nature, scales rippling like the gentle waves of a disturbed pond. Once the original chased his copy and occupied the space it'd taken beside Mocha, he released the grip on his magic that held it together. The double he'd imposed himself over broke apart, disappearing similar to the wisps of an ending daydream.

Stuffed to the figurative gills with an overbearing sense of accomplishment, Fahl quickened his stride and overtook the shark dog. "Let's have me take the lead, shall we."

Barely repressed victorious laughter trembled in his relatively flat voice.

@Mocha

Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

Mocha didn't even have the chance to respond before Fahl caught up with them, the shimmering illusion giving way to the real iguana. Shocked, Mocha hesitated his next few steps, allowing Fahl to take the lead, not that he couldn't have anyway given the length of Mocha's legs. "Woah! You were- and now-!" The exclamation turned into a fit of giggles as he tried to keep up. It was hard to do two things at once, even if those two things were just walking and laughing! Eventually, he got a hold of himself again.

"Good idea!" He agreed, hurrying to keep up. He was excited to get back in the water, given how muddy he'd gotten. The waters of Cetus were certainly murky, but even murky water was cleaner than he was right now. "I'd like to be like you!" He declared as they walked, emphasized with a sharp nod, not that Fahl would see it. Could he learn to do that? Could he learn to paint the walls like Fahl did? He hoped so! He had so much to learn! If Fahl's talents made them friends, would learning their magic make Mocha more friends? He hoped so!

The hatchling's thoughts shifted endlessly from one topic to the other, seemingly without rhyme or reason. This particular shift led Mocha to remember he was hungry. It was maybe only a few seconds before he chirped again, pensive. "Good food, in Polaris?"

@Fahl

Plodding through the trenches with the crags looming as such high peaks above the journeying pair of Gembounds, not many signs existed to indicate their progression to the rest of the swamp proper. Muddied waters which had previously lapped at toes alone gradually rose while they continued on in what could best be called a winding maze of rock. The main path they walked Fahl never strayed from, the multiplying narrow routes branching off of it never enough temptation for a more seasoned part-time resident of Cetus to follow. Given time, soon their feet would be freed from the rough scrape of stone, slow currents floating and tugging at limbs instead; another couple minutes more was his prediction, once they were wading through murk up to their shoulders.

Likely sooner in Mocha's case, but he wasn't too worried there. Fins often weren't for decoration, so instinct should handle that situation.

He glanced back at his companion. "What are you craving?" A look at the jaws on the other Gembound provided some ideas as to his potential diet. However, making too many assumptions would be foolish when the source of the question might have a faint clue of what would please his stomach best. "There's a river with fish if that's to your taste. But we can just as easily get those here once we reach more water."

@Mocha

Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

The walk-turned-swim was a long one for such a small creature, but Mocha's constant chatter (mostly to himself and the environment) was enough to keep him moving. Fahl was a steady guide, holding a pace that was easy to match once they hit deeper waters. Deeper for the hatchling, given the vast difference in size. It was correct to assume that Mocha's tail had purpose, and although the shark-dog paddled with paws as well, his tail did most of the work.

It took Mocha a minute to think about what his stomach was grumbling for. It was easy to identify the feeling as hunger, but a lot less simple to decipher how to fix it. The various mosses, leaves and water plants they had seen on their journey did not look appetizing, though Mocha had licked a few varieties along the way just to be sure. He was right; the leaves were bitter and hard to chew with serrated teeth. "Fish sounds right!" He decided, though something seemed off to the pup. There was something else, too, something...

The sound of a lesser skittering away as the pair walked close caught his attention. Ah, that was it. "Anything that isn't green." He corrected, gesturing to a clump of water plants with disgust. It opened the menu a bit, if Fahl tended towards red meat over white. "What's your favourite?" He chirped the follow-up question, pleading eyes hopeful for suggestions. It was his first meal, after all! It should be special!

@Fahl

Ordinarily a running commentary on the environment and oneself would've been a far more grating experience to be audience to. Although it filled any void in conversation nicely, such excessive gabbing reminded Fahl too much of his own personal deficiencies. Unable to participate in rapid fire speech, an old, familiar jealousy settled in the underside of his jaw, yet it was swallowed back before the urge to lash out became overwhelming. Expressing admiration at multiple points in their interactions, combined with youthful enthusiasm, had bought Mocha greater leniency than anyone else likely would have been given. Additionally, no longer having to rely solely on his own strength to drag his tail along, flowing fins buoyed by risen waters, had contributed to a mood more pleasant than usual.

The outright rejection of plants as a food source confirmed some suspicions, so no sore feelings were had. Nevertheless, officially a herbivore, amusement tinged a considering hum as the iguana pored over other options on the menu. Narrowing them down to a definitive favorite proved difficult when most fish consumed functioned as a means to an end during lean times, often bland to a palate intended to prefer algae above all else. But cycles worth of taste testing eventually ranked one variety above the rest: "Whitelings. They're cave fish, probably one of the best to catch for beginners. They don't look very special, but cooking makes them delicious."

In Fahl's case, that translated to not absolutely flavorless. However, he had good assurance from those with more responsive taste buds that this common Lesser was truly a worthy dish when properly prepared.

@Mocha

Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

Whitelings! Mocha wondered if they were as cute as their name sounded. He liked the idea of things not having to look special to be special, though. Cetus may be foggy and muddy, but it was where he met Fahl! That made it special. And it was where he hatched, which made it double special! Fahl had mentioned another thing the little guy had yet to learn about though: cooking. It inspired some vague idea, some possible meaning, but he had no idea how to do it. Much like painting, which he was determined to try someday. Maybe they could make something together, once he got good at it.

"Let's catch some!" His tail wagging propelled him closer to the iguana, and the seemingly permanent too-wide smile greeted him openly. He called for his magic to amplify the sounds around him, then pointed with a shapeless paw toward the direction of heartbeats in the water. "There's something there! Are those whitelings?"

Mocha was starting to salivate at the idea of food. His stomach yearned for it, and he had to fight hard not to wiggle too much and scare the fish away. He was just so excited! Fahl knew everything, so how could he be wrong about the fish? He knew the cave's layout, how to make things pretty colours with paint AND magic, the best foods and how to cook... Mocha adored him, and knew he would have been very, very lost without his friend.

@Fahl

His own magic unhoned in matters of detection, Fahl regarded Mocha's gesture toward rippling waters with squinted eyes and a jaw set in deep concentration. If the youngster was correct, he possessed truly excellent senses, but first the iguana would have to verify using his as well, weak as they might turn out to be comparatively. An experienced fisher's gaze scanned for signs of life disrupting the natural flow of current along the channel they swam: the break of fins above the surface or shining scales. Once satisfied, a small, noncommittal shrug ended the moment of suspense.

"We shall see." Leaving it at that, he plunged below on a steady course for the prey in his sights, a faint shower of droplets in his wake.

The end result of this excursion made itself known in mere seconds. Where there had been peace previously, the area that had been pointed out now exploded into a flurry of activity. Numerous bodies gleaming silver jumped and scattered as Fahl's head burst into the open air, his catch clenched firmly in his teeth by a swaying tail fin. Any potential struggle ceased before it could even begin, a sharp jerk bashing the fish against the side of the trench. It fell limp, death instantaneous from such sudden trauma.

"Not whiteling," came a barely audible murmur from an occupied mouth. "Silverling."

He shook the aforementioned fish for emphasis.

@Mocha