The chrysalis had been sitting at the bottom of one of the pools for some time, like a pebble in the eye of a giant. It was tiny at first. A speck of dust, nothing more. When it began to grow larger, it formed a clear-coated iris - easily missed by anything that crept by the water for a drink, or a swim. Like nothing was even there. In the weeks following its emergence it would grow, and grow, until it was the size of a small kennel - but the shape remained. Smooth, round, unblemished. If something grew within its cavity it was impossible to tell; the translucence grew foggy, darkening over the course of hours until it was a blackness at the bottom of the pool. The water rolled about it; one might expect erosion, but the crystalline structure of the chrysalis was stalwart, and the subtle strobe of magic kept it safe and secure. Finally, there was a shift. Perhaps it was tectonic, perhaps it was magical - but either way, the orb came loose from its mooring and drifted upwards through the water, and bobbed there like a spherical ice-cube. A solid sphere, as far as anyone would be able to tell, and a dull glow emanating from its core. Curious indeed.

Though the being within the chrysalis may have slept, as it grew, nightmarish touch plagued the stone. A bitter, bone-chilling cold pervaded the stone egg, and the sound of soft scraping, as of fingers dragging on rock, sometimes reverberated through its core. Whether Titus' unconsciousness left him oblivious, or whether half-glimpsed memories worked their way into his mind, perhaps in form of unpleasant dream, depended on the unborn himself.

He'd been coming to Eridanus to collect his plants, and visited, often enough, the edges of the twin pools that glimmered here. Only once had he noticed the chrysalis in the water--and then in a vague and distracted way that had him skirting farther to avoid it, rather than drawing closer to investigate. He'd heard the stories of the Eyes, of the cold and the unknown being that they contained. And he hadn't recognized the stone, anyway, for what it was; he'd seen only a shape, and after determining (with a brief moment of staring worriedly) that it didn't seem to be a Gembound, he'd hurried on his way.

Now he was back, carefully uprooting a few ferns whole, digging around to ensure that he got their roots.

It was only upon spotting the zircon now bobbing in the water that he paused. He stared, and then he gently, carefully laid his plants down before picking his way to the water's edge.

What is that?

Pale blue eyes squinted a little in concentration as the black bird-dog hybrid crouched at the shore. He then lowered his feathered forelimbs and cautiously set foot in the pool, hesitating.

If it was a Gembound's chrysalis, they had to come out. But fear gripped him--what if it was a trap..? What if this was some kind of shining lure, meant to draw him out when he was alone so that the pools could swallow him up?

He settled, as he so often did, for trying to reason with the inanimate object.

"Um... hello? Is someone there? If you're a monster I'd rather not be--eaten. No offense," he quickly added. "But... are you uhh. Do you need--help?"

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

@Titus

The sphere bobbed like a great egg in the water, although the tempo of its subtle shifting changed when a non-corporeal effect swept through it; to call it a shadow would be wrong, for it cast no darkness. To call it a feeling wasn't right either, lest that would imply that the chrysalis was alive when it was merely made animate by the magicka blossoming inside, twisting and contorting and fashioning itself a vessel. No, this effect, it seemed to drift through the zirconium of the chrysalis shell.

The creature inside, mostly formed but not yet aware, remained dormant. The scratching - or the sound, the sensation, whatever power it was that caused the eerie clicking of claws against the hard surface - wasn't something the neonate within could fathom. They slept, and the strobe of the shell's magicka continued. Whatever was waiting inside of the cavity, whatever life was being formed, had not been finished yet. Perhaps it would not survive the strange affectation -- be forever changed, magically mutilated, corrupted in some way.

A voice came; not from the stone, but the opposite - the shore of the pond. A figure had appeared there and was calling out to the orb. The creature kicked in its sleep; something hard scrapes the inside of the zirconium but nothing breaks. The child is safe inside of the chrysalis, for now.

Oliver hesitated. He didn't want to go out there, absolutely not--but he didn't want this new baby to die, either, to drown.

What could he possibly do..?

He turned, searching quickly along the shore for a long enough stick. There weren't a lot of branches, but there were a couple long enough to suit his needs. The first one crumbled and broke almost as soon as he picked it up, and the second had thorns on it that pricked his paw-hands, but he took it up anyway. He had to hold its weight mostly with his jaws. And he had to wade into the water, anyway, and he felt its icy grip crawl through his bones along with fear.

The hybrid did his best to reach the chrysalis, to sweep it inward toward the shore, and to not drown or get sucked down by monsters or something in the process. He wanted to call out to it further, to ask if it could hear him--was it even a chrysalis at all? What if it was the monster? What if the stone itself grabbed him and dragged him down?!

His pale blue eyes rolled back to watch it, fearful, as he made his way back to shore. He tried to bring the stone with him, though he wasn't at all sure he'd manage.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

@Titus