She considered the Hive-thing, no, Howler's words for a while. It wasn't clear if she was truly considering it or just languishing in the momentary silence between their words. Perhaps some strange mix of the two. A sniffle, and then a tear of black oil dripped from her nose as well as she lifted her head from the sand. "Change...it?" She did not know she could change that which she never had.

A gurgling, mumbling sound came from the back of her throat, almost a faint whine. Something akin to despair crossed through the mash of matter that was her brain. A short toss back of her head, scattering oil around them, and she mumbled, "I do not...know. What....I would nameee...." A sob tore through her chest again. "What....would youuuuu....call meee...."

@Howler

Howler stares at Pickles' body on the sandy floor. Is everyone so rude to her that they'd never even prompted changing it? Or maybe Pickles didn't grow up with anyone to teach her those things. Neither had Howler, but he'd never been called names he didn't like. Either the gembound were scared of him or they just didn't find him 'ugly' enough to do it.

It's unfortunate, but not everyone is as nice as Howler. And even though he'd helped clear the cave of Order, he thinks he'd be too hesitant to fight one given the opportunity. He just wished everyone could be friends, maybe divide certain caves to certain ones so they didn't need to fight. It would just cause more problems, probably.

"Yes... You can always change something if you don't like it. Besides your magic I guess. But you could always just choose to not use that, too." Howler is not sure what he'd do if his magic was something else. There's never been anything else to experience.

Howler takes another few moments to think, what would be a good name for the equine? Something not so negative. Something that offsets her bitey appearance. "What about Pothos or Rosary?" They both sound better than Pickled Horse. Less negative, can't be misconstrued.

@Pickles

It had come to her right when Howler was speaking of it, the possibility of change. If she didn't like something, could she change it?

She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to change so many things. The dark shroud that ever blanketed her senses, the trail of inky black that followed her wherever she walk, the desecrated ground that spread from her when she tried to rest...

That was her magic, she knew deep down. The consequences of it. But then, just as hope began to blossom, it crumbled. She could change many things, but not that. Not the one thing she would truly want to change. Her head fell back against the ground, another moan gurgling up from her chest. "Ohhhh....that is....sad." She sniffed. "I....would want....to change that..."

It wasn't a devastating discovery, it didn't crumble her completely, the hope had only existed for a moment, so the sadness that overtook her was short and bitter. But a name...oh a name. Would she be more of a thing with a name? More then simply a wandering stain?

Something like a soft snort made its way - she was an oddly vocal creature, now that she was actually having a conversation. "Poth...os? Ros...ary? What...are thoseee..."

@Howler

"You don't have to use your magic." Howler repeats.

However, it seems Corruption does a bit more than just change someone's magic makeup. He's not really interacted with many Corrupted individuals - Pickles being the only one most likely. Still, the black tears and dark oil that came from her did not seem pleasant to experience.

Howler can't offer anything to help the symptoms of Corruption. He's never heard of any cure for it at all. Aside from maybe killing and reviving the stone - but even then... Why would someone wish to die for that? The thing that comes out would not be the same. Thankfully the topic moves on, instead to the names Howler has offered for Pickles to take.

"They are plants." he says. "Plants are beautiful, they don't have to worry about anything. Maybe the others who were mean wouldn't have anything to say with a name like that." The vibes from such names probably wouldn't seep into Pickles, but that's not really the purpose.

Howler thinks both names are nice, but perhaps Pickles just wouldn't want to change her name.

@Pickles

Maybe she would have laughed if she was capable of laughing. She did not think she was. It did not matter if she used her magic or not, it used her. She was not the willing participant. It trailed after her like a dark cloud, infected her every step. A deep breath was taken, wet from the oil lining her throat, and when the exhale came, a bit of black dribbled out into the sand.

"I...don't....but it...follows me..." One very unhorse-like foot curled into the sand that was slowly being stained black by her continued presence upon it. But she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to continue speaking it into existence. It was simply a fact for her and to dwell on it was as pointless as dwelling on the nature of sadness.

She mulled over the names offered. She did not know why he had chosen plants. She was not a plant. She did not know how to grow plants. She didn't particularly like plants. Not even for eating. But if he liked the names, then she did too - they were pretty. And it made her think for a moment, an activity she did not normally participate in. Truly, plants didn't have to worry about things. That would be nice.

But he did not give her a name, but offered choices. Did she...have to choose one? There was a moment in which she went quiet, tossing each of them in her head and muttering them under her breath. And then she mumbled out, "Ro...sary....I like....Rosary." It was much better then Pickles. She paused, and then whispered, "Thank you."

@Howler

Howler wants to ask about the strange darkening of the ground around them, but holds back. Maybe he can find someone else to ask about it--? The equine clearly doesn't want to talk about her biology or magic, clear from the way she reacted when he brought up being unable to change one's magic type. Howler is fairly sure he could find a corrupted individual willing to answer his questions.

After a few moments, Rosary is decided for her new name. Howler grins, toothy and nods quick. "I think it suits you!" even though he knows nothing about this gembound.

Still, Howler thinks its a good name to at least get the assholes off of her back. His eyes gaze up at the sky outside of their rocky outcrop. It seems that they'll be stuck here for some time unless they decide to scale the rockface. At least most of the areas would be shaded then.

"Of course." he hums. "Do you think we'll be stuck here all day?" Howler is dying to get into the cool water, but the sun above would simply still hurt too much.

@Rosary

The grin Howler offered did two things for the horse - the first, caused a tension. It looked like a snarl. Showing teeth. The beast-instinct in her took it as a threat and her body seemed to freeze for a moment, as if in fear. But no, not in fear, it was preparing itself to fight.

But it took a second for the second thing to override it. A weird emotion that felt like light in her bones. Because she had made someone smile. She recognized it for what it was, even if she had never seen one properly before. She did not know how to name the emotion that came with it, but she liked to think that it was just a hint of happiness. Impossible though it was.

She did not smile back, she did not think she could, but the lack of moans or tears said more then enough.

But it was too good to last. Rosary was a creature doomed to see the worst in all. So when Howler suggested moving, mentioned being stuck, that small bead of happiness was instantly swallowed by loathing. They wanted to move. She was holding them here. If she was not here, they would be more comfortable, happier, not having to worry about some depressing, sobbing, ever-anguished valkhound that didn't have a name.

A soft sob welled up again and a sigh followed soon after. "I...will try..." she cried softly. "But you should goooo....I am...no good...."

@Howler