The orange-brown stone that had gradually--over the weeks preceding--emerged from the mud of Cetus looked rather like a smear of rust. It didn't look special, or pretty, or even really notable. And when it began to crack, the creature that started to shove its way out wasn't a likely superstar, either: she was squat, broad, already hefty in bulk and build and less "adorable child" than--in the manner of turtles--"reptilian miniature of her adult form."

Not that Agatha was, exactly, a turtle. The clawed paws that shoved at the shards of Tantalite could have been mistaken for those of a giant snapping turtle, yes--as could the hooked beak that pried at the shards of stone. The pupils, too, though they thinned briefly to a catlike slit at the first sight of dim light, were rounded in an almost horizontal fashion when they dilated once again. But the rest-...

"Hell," the little child spat, and resorted to bashing her skull against the chrysalis in an attempt to shatter her prison and unfold herself into the swamp beyond.

She tumbled out, landing face-first in the muck and giving anyone who might be watching a prime view of a lashing tail and a body lined with spines and quills. There she flailed, for a moment, turtle-like (as if in slow-motion) before fumbling herself back upright and spitting out a jawful of mud with a "Pah!"

Then Agatha looked around, blinking, trying to figure out where she was--and who she was, for that matter.

It was not the first time Alek had been in Cetus, though he could hardly remember the first occasion. It had not been long after they had arrived in Orion after he and his siblings' hatching, Alek was pretty sure. The memory was kind of blurry, really. Gaheris had been with him too, at the time. And his dragon-parent, of course, since Cadenza would not let them out of sight when they had been that little.

Kids seemed such a responsibility. He would never get why his parent had made him and his siblings. They had all been so small and vulnerable when they hatched. Anything could have eaten them, probably. It was not a scary thought, simply a logical thought regarding their likelihood to survive unaccompanied.

While pondered the annoying weaknesses of children (even though he was far from being an adult himself...), Alek stumbled across one. A newly hatched child, judging by that broken chrysalis. She looked kind of reptilian, but also kind of not. A bit like him, in how he looked kind of like his dragon-parent but also not really. Was this someone's kid? He had never met anyone that looked like this kid, even kind of, but surely she had to have parents. ...Right?

So he looked around with his many purple eyes, then focused on the child in confusion when the absence registered. His antlered head tilted minutely "...Where are your parents?" He wondered aloud. His voice was musical like Cadenza's but masculine in way Cadenza's was not.

@Agatha

What a strange world, that the first stranger the squat, toad-faced child should meet was this elegant vision of beauty. Sleek muscle in gleaming blue; backswept antlers and glowing gold. A musical voice fluting past beneath glowing violet eyes. She extricated herself from the mud, staring up at him with a calculating eye.

Parents..? Nascent mind sought the meaning of this word. Brought, in vague concepts that bubbled up from a latent subconscious, the image of larger, protective figures.

"You," she declared, her voice already roughly hoarse, and she began to schluck, schluck her way with mud-sucking steps, struggling toward Alek through the muck, "are parents." It was a decision, a possessive declaration, a reverse-adoption given with the absolute certainty of a child's complete ignorance. 'Parents' were 'big safe thing;' therefore, 'big safe thing' was 'parents.'

@Alek

"I am..." not your parent, Alek was going to say. But then he paused. She didn't seem like she was lying... And, he when he had asked how he had been made, his dragon-parent had simply said 'magic'. They hadn't gone into detail (probably concerned about being made a grandparent through impulsive choices like their own dragon-dad had dealt with, but Alek didn't know that).

So... Was it so far fetched? Some magic could be performed accidentally or instinctively, Alek was pretty sure. And he had just been thinking about children, even if it was about not wanting to be a parent. What if his magic had interpreted that in the wrong way and just kind of made a kid of his?

It should be noted that Alek was not at all a user of magic and understood absolutely nothing about it, pretty much.

He examined the child with consideration to resemblance. There wasn't much, but it wasn't like his brother Kaizer looked a lot like either of their parents either. She kind of looked a bit draconic, maybe. No wings, but he did not have functional wings for the purpose of flight, so maybe his magic had decided to just skip that.

"I guess I could be," Alek admitted with no idea that he was absolutely wrong. But if this was his kid, as she definitely totally seemed to be, well... She was pretty small and vulnerable compared to him, and he would be a pretty pathetic parent if he let his kid get eaten, he decided. "What's your name? I'm Alek- Though I guess you'd call me dad...?"

@Agatha

Orange eyes blinked at him, and she hauled herself closer, lifting each turtlish foot to flick away mud. The gesture was oddly cat-like, rather out of place on a hefty reptilian. Agatha settled at Alek's feet, and squinted up. "Alek," she repeated. And corrected, "Dad." Although--he'd asked for her name, right? And his name--Alek/Dad--was his, so she couldn't use those, too.

"A-" she started again, about to blurt Alek, then remembered--no, she had to change that. Hell. (She didn't know what that meant, but it had a good, forbidden feeling to it and she liked revelling in it.) "Aaaah...gtha. Agatha. Yeah." Yeah, that sounded good. "Agatha." She blinked, then yawned, beak-face gaping, and the little flower on her tongue-tip was briefly visible glowing there. Forelimbs stretched out, shoulders idly rolling, and she looked up at Alek/Dad again. "Can... more words?" she asked, struggling to find the language. "Want learn... more words."

A pause, and dutifully she recited what she knew so far. "Dad Alek Agatha hell parents. More?" It was a questionable string to put all in a row like that, but she was unaware.

@Alek

She had called him dad. The words bounced around, echoing through his mind. He was a dad. Alek did not know what to make of this, at all. And now she had a name, and this was getting very real. If he had known thinking about having a child could result in one, he would not have done it!

Or, at least, maybe he would not have done so, but he decided he could not regret it for that seemed a very mean thought. Agatha seemed pretty okay for a newly hatched gembound, and it was rude to wish complete nonexistence on another.

He looked considering upon noticing her flower-tongue. Perhaps she had his dad's kind of magic. That was good. It was better than having his type of magic and using it.

Then she was asking for more words, and Alek perked up. Words! Alek could do words! He was decently smart, though he usually used that intellect for hunting. But... the way she asked for the words was not quite a full question, so Alek decided to start with grammar.

"So, when using words, there's this thing called grammar! Grammar is kind of like... structure with vocabulary? So you have to put words in a certain order to sound right. Otherwise it just sounds off. But different gembounds use different structures sometimes, and it still sounds right. So its very variable."

His words included no real examples, not used to explaining things to anyone let alone a very young child. It was, over all, a very poor explanation of grammar.

Alek paused at the list of words. "You know more words than you think. You've used more than the ones you listed after all! But, if you want, I can tell you more words?" He decided not to comment on the oddly placed swear amongst it all. If his daughter wanted to swear, why should he stop her?

@Agatha

Dad, as it turned out, was very kind. Kind, understanding, and patient--and more than that, he was informative. Agatha listened, and tried to understand. She picked up some of it, heavy head tilting a little to one side, and as Alek finished, she grunted.

"How do I know... the order?" she tried. But as soon as she'd asked it she almost knew the answer: the same way she'd made that sentence. It sounded right. She didn't retract her question though, because she wasn't certain. It SOUNDED right, yes--but was it? Dad--she was certain--would tell her.

And in the meantime, she found another desire: the slow growl of her stomach. Instinct told her she had to put things in her mouth and swallow them to sate it, but what 'things,' she didn't know: so she started off by simply lowering a turtlish head, scooping muck and rotten reeds into her jaw, and tossing them back with squinting blinks as she tasted it.

A moment later she was spitting it all out with an audible "Blah," flower-tipped tongue pushing mud from disappointed beak.

With luck, this 'parent' could teach her a little better--because for now, she clearly had much to learn.

@Alek

exiting due to inactivity