For White, things had been quiet. She believed she had preferred that, however. She had heard Caravaggio talk about the Herbivores and Carnivores, and how they were supposed to be different, but the dog-bird hybrid never really bothered to pick up on it. According to her bovine friend, he was a herbivore and she was a carnivore. White did not know what this meant - or how it affected their friendship in any way. It did not matter to her; what mattered to her was the fact that they were both breathing and - for the most part - unaffiliated by the dreaded cooties.

The Spire pulsated in a relative silence; illuminating Polaris. The Herbivores - who must have hated Caravaggio or something - did not frequent this place often. Or, at least, she had not heard of anything from them if they had visited. She was told they instead lurk in a room somewhere near by; a place full of tarnished buildings and stars that littered the ceiling. White had been there - it was dark, unlike Polaris. It smelled weird, too - even White with her horrific sense of smell could pick up on that. Polaris was good - Polaris was normal. Polaris was where she lived and she loved it here.

The spire gleamed down on her. She was where she always was: with her back propped up on the base of the blue crystals that made up the towering monument of magic, back legs tucked under her and forelegs sprawled out far. She was fully grown now; her wings stretched out a full twelve feet combined and it was enough to lift herself off the floor. White, however, did not like flying. She preferred the cold ground under her paws and talons, where she could feel grounded and not so.. tired, all the time - she had learned, after all, that flying took up a lot of energy.

She wasn't so sure how her mother could do it all the time.

The feathers covering the hybrid's body were tinted blue with the light of Polaris. She prided herself in how pearly-white she could keep them - it was a result of mimicking the preening her mother taught her to do and dipping into the river as Caravaggio had told her - and although it would cause her feathers to get damp and heavy, it got rid of the dust that would occasionally cling to them.

Though, seeing as Caravaggio had taken up most of her thoughts today, the hybrid slowly pulled herself to paws and talons; and she began striding away from the Spire. She might as well try look for him; or at the very least, find someone to talk to. Although it was quiet and peaceful, she felt that perhaps her brain might melt if she wasn't able to use her voice today. She had gone through many sleeps without using her voice at all, and it was beginning to drive her crazy.

Shaking the dust off her body, the hybrid made her way forwards slowly with her tail feathers lifted slightly above the ground, almost cat-like. She made her way around the room, absent-mindedly sniffing the floor despite it making no difference to her quest of finding someone to talk to. She was sure, all the same, that there was someone or something out there that would take the time to exchange words.

Nyx Dawnwalker put on your war paint

Nyx had succumbed to her wanderlust once again, this time letting her legs carry her through the Caves absentmindedly - only to end up in her birth place once again. She'd been returning to this part of the caves a lot lately.

The ache in her legs from Nyx's restless && mostly aimless wandering made her stretch them once she stepped into the room. Her moves were much more like those of a dog than of a doe as she stretched her front legs out while her hind legs stood still.
The deer craned her neck, the weight atop her head from the crude mock-antlers still foreign but much less painful now. Still, the weight was a constant reminder of Nyx's botched spell, which angered her, though only on a subconscious level.

The gembound wasn't that surprised when her dark eyes found another form in the room. Polaris seemed to draw in the most different of gembounds at all times.
The doe cocked her head curiously, watching the dog-like creature as it seemed to inspect the ground for something. "What did you loose? Do you need help?" Nyx offered, smiling at the white-pelted hybrid.

She was amazed at the cleanliness of the gembound's pelt && feathers, as well as the awestriking size of their wings.
Nyx had happened upon quite a few hybrids already, but she had to admit: This one was by far the most beautiful one yet.

"Listen to me."

@White

The pearly-white hybrid had happened upon an interesting stone seconds before she heard the voice of the doe. Her nose had bumped into it quietly in her search for the bovine, or just anyone else - she didn't quite mind at this point - but for now, her efforts were focused on this rock. It was smooth, small - it could make a pretty gift if she washed it, perhaps do some of the magic that her mother had shown her on it, so that it glowed faintly yellow and was pretty. Perhaps, if she did it now, she could clean it before she saw Caravaggio.

All of this ran through White's head in a fraction of a second, in the the same instant that her pink nose made contact with the smooth rock. Her ears pricked abruptly at the sound of a voice - a new voice. It wasn't one that she recognized before; looking up at the gembound proved that it wasn't a species she had seen before. She assumed - by the creature's hooves alone - that it was a herbivore. But of course, this was pointless information for White.

What did matter to the fully-grown hybrid was the doe's appearance; she stared in unfocused awe, first at the deer's ebony eyes, then the biege pelt covering her and finally, the spots that speckled her body. White hadn't ever seen such a thing before - and she had vague memories of things with three heads, or big claws-- or even small things with stripes or long tails. Of course, however, she had said something. It took a moment for them to register: the hybrid stood for a moment, wide-eyed and ears twitching ever so slightly. "Oh!" she said at last, bounding towards Nyx.

The hybrid moved awkwardly; forelegs first and followed by over-sized, pink talons which threatened to scratch at the heels of her paws when they came forward. The truth was, White was still wholly unaccustomed to moving with them, but it was something both she and her brother were never actually accustomed to. As the dog-bird beast came forth, she sniffed at Nyx from a distance - not entirely intrusive, but respectful and polite, to the point that if the deer were to back off White would as well as not to cause discomfort.

Despite the guesture however, it made no actual difference to what White thought of this new creature - no actual scent hit her nostrils and the hybrid was left shifting her weight from paw to paw with excitement gleaming in her eyes. Of course, she had been asked a question. "I'm looking for my friend," she said. There was a strange, doggish smile upon her pink snout - the corners of her mouth upturned to show the insides of her mouth. "He's big, bigger than you and me, but he looks a little bit like you."

It was no secret that, if the hybrid had a proper canine tail, it would be lashing back and forth contentedly. One could see it in her hindquarters, how the very back of her legs twitched, causing the long glossy feathers to rustle quietly. "Though, you're quite different," White then mentioned. There was absolutely no trace of malice in the hybrid's tone. She had not been exposed to such things yet. "You have the same paws and a lot of white on you. You have horns, too, but they're different,"

She watched, once more, the very top of Nyx's head with shiny eyes. They were uneven, something most people might find horribly distracting or off-putting. White, however, felt the need to voice an honest opinion: "I think they're pretty."

White finally sat back on her haunches, paws tucked up to herself carefully and neatly. "I'm White," she said. Perhaps it was an obvious statement of her pelt, but it had been what her father named her. "What's your name?"