The little creature waited with expectancy for an answer, only to feel the connection slipping away. It let out a small, squishy noise that would never be heard. It couldn’t hear pride’s voice- only the lowest rumbles of it managed to permeate the walls of its home.

But for the first time, the little creature felt its aloneness acutely in the dark- although it was warm and cozy here it was aware that no-one else would find it here. It thought out frantically, trying to figure out how to restore the link, to somehow tap into the power that it had never known existed.

It searched- and its thoughts were becoming ever clearer. Somewhere along the line, it had realized where the great creature stood- linked its home with the connection to his mind.

...Mr. Host?

But whatever power it sought remained elusive.

@Pride.

The stag hesitated a moment longer before furrowing his brow, and slowly, gently, deliberately setting his hoof down.

...Okay, so whatever this was, couldn't talk. He'd made mental contact by reaching out blindly to the multiple deer--something he'd never done before--so he'd need to do that again.

As he worked at reestablishing the link, he had a rather awful realization. What if there are consciousnesses all around us..? What if the plants, the water, the stone all thinks, and feels, but no one often tries to speak to it? Or worse yet--invisible spirits, ghosts perhaps? What if magicka itself was conscious beings?

His heart was beating in fear as he struggled--and failed--to find the stranger again.

"What is this..?" he murmured, aloud.

@Squick

The little creature searched, and squirmed, and, finding nothing, was able to settle back down. Although its pug-like face showed unseen wrinkles of disappointment. Large eyes searched the dark but only for a moment. Soon it was curling up again, sinking down into the warm wrinkled wall of its home. Once more, it tried to reach out.

Mr. Host?

And this time, something did answer it, although it wasn’t the wondrous being that it was calling for. Instead the peaceful feeling of magic flooded out, a soft white glow barely permeating the skin of the parasite’s abdomen. The little creature looked down in wonder, and reached out- but the magic was neither the right type, or the right spell, to do what it was looking for.

But it was a distraction, and very quickly it had forgotten its loneliness entirely.

Magic was a good feeling. It would keep doing it.

@Pride

The stag went quite still as-... As something happened. He felt the faintest rush of health, as if something had bolstered him, had reached in and hugged his--his body, but not externally. It was the strangest sensation, and he froze, nostrils quivering, once again.

More carefully this time, cautious, working with exactitude, he opened his mind and slowly felt around. He reached for any consciousness that he could find, gradually. At last he felt it--the gentlest clink as his mind slotted into place with another, the magic forming its link.

He spoke at once, as soon as he was certain of it, oblivious to the world around him. I do not know how long I can maintain this link. It is-... exhausting. I saw myself, in your mind; yet you do not know who you are..? But you know me? Where are you? I can come to you, perhaps. Or are you incorporeal?

Some part of him wondered if it was an Elder of some kind--the notorious Nemean, perhaps--playing tricks on him. But he had no way of knowing, not for certain--and could that magic have been a malicious being..? Was that your magic, that I felt? What was that? --Are you in need of aid?

@Squick

Abruptly, there was the voice again- the thoughts- and the tiny creature was no longer alone. It elicited a small squishy sound of joy, mandibles twitching into what might have been a smile. Yes, I know you! You brought me here! You made me warm and safe. The outside was cold. It was too big and it was awfully scratchy. I didn’t like it out there, but you saved me. At the memory of the outside world, so awfully vast and cold, the parasite shivered. Thank you very much, Mr. Host!

Pride questioned again who it was, and the tiny parasite thought again. I only just woke up. The place before the cold, big place was nice, but I got too big for it. Then I came out into the cold. And then I climbed on some big, green things and saw you! You are very pretty. But before the cold place I never thought about me. This is new.

The question of where it was presented a new conundrum. It shuffled. I’m already with you, Mr. Host! At least, I think I am. I don’t think you can find me here.

As the glow faded back into the dark, the excited little creature tried again. Magic? Yes! I was glowing! It’s dark in here, but there was light for a moment. It felt good, did you feel it too? the little one seemed pleased.

@Pride

Dark... in... here? This thought was to himself--an echo of Squick's words. The seconds ticked by as Pride stood blankly digesting this little fact.

A cautious, squeamish test of his magic and-... Yes. The moment he turned his mind away from himself--away from his own body--the link was cut. "Oh, no. ...Oh, no, no no no..."

Realization, fact by fact, fell into place. The creature had been on the leaves; he had come to it, swallowed it while grazing, brought it from the "cold" (it was damn warm here) into the "warm dark." Pride felt panic--real panic--rise in him, perhaps for the first time in his life. If he'd swallowed this thing--this tiny, happy, quite possibly newly-hatched Gembound--it was going to die. It could not possibly survive being digested. ...Could it?

Why is it calling me Mr. Host-- He shoved the thought away, and quickly began to stumble toward the water's edge, frantically looking for the source of the rotten fish smell.

It was the only idea he could think of to help him to vomit.

He willed himself, meanwhile, not to digest any further. Could he avoid swallowing..? He might drool a little, but needs must. Fear driving him, the stag began to race up and down the banks, looking for the long-dead fish.

@Squick

Abruptly, the touch of mind to mind was gone, leaving the small creature with nothing except a feeling of growing anxiety. Had it said something wrong...? And then suddenly the little creature felt itself lurch as the stag set into motion and ran. It bounced and struggled to keep a grip on the slippery walls, bounced and rocked and unused to the feeling of pure and undiluted panic.

Mr. Host?! What's going on!? its thoughts called helplessly into the abyss yet received no answer. It tried again to re-establish the link, but its understanding of magic and how such a thing worked was still poor. Again its soft glow illuminated the inside of Pride's stomach, brighter this time- as what looked like veins of light spread out from the little one's touch into Pride. The parasite had connected with him, somehow, but not in the way that it wanted. The warm pleasantness that it had tapped into before was useless, now, and didn't help alleviate the feeling of fear.

As the glow faded, the feeling did not.

@Pride

Pride stumbled to a halt, nearly falling as his hooves sent loose water-smoothed stones scattering. Flanks heaved as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment he stood, staring down with mild disgust at the pile of dead fish--were they inside-out..?--that lay there on the shoreline.

Then he tried once more to establish the connection with the being he had eaten.

"Come on..." His mind searched, searched, magicka flaring--... And--there! It was easier, he thought, to find it when the little one was also casting; he could feel the strangely reassuring warmth again, and locked onto it. But his connection was tenuous--he had been using it too much. A headache was building, the link flickering and threatening to fail.

Are you there? Fear rippled through him. What if it were already dead..? I did not mean to eat you. It may be warm, but it isn't safe. I will--try to get you out, yes? Just hold still.

Even so, he was wondering on a few things--why was it calling him, Host? Why was it not already suffocating, or drowning--he didn't have too firm a grasp of internal anatomy, but surely it should already be dying, or dead? Still, his frantic "get it out" mentality, the idea that it might already be almost too late, gave him little time to pause.

Still, he waited--for a moment, at least--to see if the stranger would respond, before he attempted to... well, to vomit it back up.

@Squick

The little one felt the world stop shaking finally, and after taking a moment to ensure that it wouldn't move again- it scrambled back up onto its little feet. It perked up as Pride's mind-voice reached it once again. Mr. Host! it thought back in a flurry of panic. What's going on?

But as Pride spoke of getting it out, the tiny creature felt a piercing jab of fear. No! I don't want to! It's bad out there! It's cold and bright and itchy! I like it in here! It hunched down onto the floor of Pride's stomach but even so knew it would make no difference. It scrambled as far back into the tiny space as it could before it could be kicked out. I'm not supposed to be in the cold. Please, Mr. Host! You're nice. Please let me stay!

@Pride

Pride hesitated, unsure as to what to do. It seemed so certain--but he could not be. His first instinct was simply to leave it there, and ask it to inform him if it began to feel pain--but if he lost connection to it, he would need to vomit it up as well. And then there was the worrying fact that his magicka was quickly depleting. He could feel the threat of backfiring spells looming, and, quietly, he decided to just try and throw it up.

If he failed... he'd tried. If he succeeded, well, he could take it from there. If the thing truly was a parasite, he could either temporarily carry it, or find it a new host; he had no desire to kill something obviously so innocent, hence his insistence on--well, puking.

The stag stuck his face down by the rotten fish, and squeezed his eyes shut. A deep inh--

Before he could even take a full breath he was retching, the putrid stench of decomposition having him skittering backwards and vomiting the fresh-eaten leaves downward on the stone. His stomach wrenched, muscles heaving. He then paused, heart racing, panting with a sickly unpleasantness as the last of it faded.

Silver eyes swiftly searched the pile of vomit, checking to see if he had managed to throw up anything... still alive.

@Squick