She did it. After a long, hard search, where she interviewed fellow Organization members, hid in dark crevices trying to get bit by spiders, trekked all the way back to goddamn Lacerta and threw rocks at Skrunglers, she is officially, certifiably, high as shit.

She's ready to kick ass, find rocks, and take names, not necessarily in that order.

Polaris looks so much different from this perspective, slightly to the left of herself.

It's so bright, the colors mixing in a violent riotous kaldeioscope of color. The crystals hum lowly, and they're slick under her paws.

She searches once more.

Mossie needs to remember to look on the bright side, she thinks as she blinks impossibly slowly. She sensed something good enough to pocket! That is good. Great, even. Fantastic, perhaps.

The Organization will like those, she thinks.

So she trudges towards the first stone, limbs jellylike and making funny boingboingboing noises every time her paws touch the ground.

She fumbles the stone, nearly swallowing it by accident, before slipping it into her fur.

"Stones, ONE," she announces. "Mossie, ZERO. Or SIX. Fuck man, Idunno. I don't make the rules."

Maybe if she thinks about a big pretty stone really hard one will show up?

Her magic probes once more.

The feeling of a weak, insubstantial pulse manifests like the thumbing of a second heartbeat somewhere in her left front legs. Which is. Weird. Her magic is not getting the job, unless...

OR! Or or or. Maybe her magic needs, like, encouragement. Positive affirmation. Maybe she's too mean to it and it needs to be nurtured like a growing child. Nurtured like a soft, innocent fluffy boy. Nurtured like a lamb. The ghost of Isaac II is definitely not staring her down right now.

She's got it. She's cracked the code.

"HeLLO DARLING MAGIC OF MINE," she yowls to the skies. "I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO IT!!"

It turns out positive encouragement and thinking was the way to go. Maybe that would've saved Isaac as he bled to death.

Mossie laughs, half-hysterical, as she lopes unsteadily towards where the magic calls her--a little cleft between two crystals. She squeezes herself in, wondering if she'll get bitten by another spider, and then she sees it.

A beautiful, iridescent opal. Mossie can almost see patterns repeated in the lattice of its vibrance, some story playing out.

She takes it, almost reverently, and tucks it into her fur.

"Take THAT," she yowls at Polaris. "I won and you LOST!"