Aethereal's fur prickled with discomfort. Some of it was the effects of the disease and pressure that were always present, but Hydra's heat certainly didn't help. She hadn't been built for this kind of environment. Still, she did her best to tolerate it, sitting still with barely any reaction to Skahan's sudden appearance (she'd seen far worse in her dreams) and waiting until the others had left the vicinity to cast her spells into the catalyst. She hardly wanted to corrupt them with her unstable magic, but she didn't have much else.

The chaos magic didn't particularly like being suppressed, and as soon as she let it out, the harsh desert orb-light dimmed slightly as corrupted magic lashed out like a whip. She tried to control it and direct it into the stone, but it was... a lot.

Well, that was what the Merchant wanted, wasn't it?

Once she started, she couldn't stop. The magic was addicting, its wild power rushing through her black blood like lightning. A howl of whispers rose around the Valkhound as she thrilled in the sensation of power. Another. More. Magic flowed out of her freely. Her massive wings opened and a hoarse laugh rose from her dripping throat. She half expected the stone to explode--maybe she wanted it to. Wouldn't that be exciting? But it was built to contain magic, and it took more and more without any such exciting reaction.

Well, that was fine. I have plenty more to give.

Wasn't this better than a quiet life in the mountains, occasionally ripping up trees and deer whenever the chaotic urges grew too strong to bear? Wasn't this better than what she had? Imagine what she could do with this power. Imagine the havoc she could wreak. Chaos was too beautiful, too wild to be contained. She should be out there right now, leaving a swathe of utter destruction in her wake, not sitting here casting magic into some stone for a gift. What had she wanted again? To take away her corruption? That was RIDICULOUS! She couldn't fathom why she'd wanted that.

Suddenly and inexplicably furious, the Valkhound roared and sent another wave of magic through the catalyst. She'd never really wanted to help the Masked Merchant anyway--THAT was the truth! All that had drawn her was the gift. The reward. What was more rewarding than chaos itself?

The magic that came this time was weaker. Aethereal took a shivering breath and remembered. She felt the familiar weight of Scars on her shoulder. The old, grizzled rat was full of nervous energy, affected by her wild chaotic emotions. He had been with her for so long. She remembered what it was like before, suffering the weight of chaos all alone and never knowing what was real. She remembered the fever and exhaustion that ran through her bones, the grasping pressures that woke her as she slept. No, there was a good reason she wanted this gift.

I'd better let it all out now, when I've got a perfect target for it. She always felt better after unleashing some of that corruption, anyway. It liked to be wielded, and the exhilaration afterward was incomparable to any other joy. And after a good session of wreaking chaotic magic, she was often too tired to do anything worse. So this was the perfect opportunity to exercise and vent without destroying a large swathe of Ursa's landscape like she usually did, and without the accompanying guilt that came afterward.

Maybe thinking too much about guilt and consequences had dampened her enthusiasm too much, though, and the magic didn't come easily this time. Aethereal inhaled sharply, frustrated, and tried again.

Her claws curled into the hot sand beneath her feet. It didn't burn; the insulation on her feet worked as well against heat as it did for cold. Her neck curled like a snake and she lunged forward as if to take a bite out of the catalyst. She didn't, of course. The magic didn't, either.

A hind leg curled and viciously kicked back, sending a cloud of sand into the air. Her frustration grew.

This was really the last straw. If this didn't work she was going to tear Hydra apart. Scars's concerns about that faded to a buzz in the back of her mind. Aethereal roared at the stone; her magic roared too. A fresh wave of power flooded through her and she laughed. It was always like this, wasn't it? So unpredictable. Soon, it would be predictably gone. If the Merchant could even do what she asked.

She was nearing the end of her capabilities. She could feel her magic flowing, flowing, until not much was left in her. One more, she insisted to herself, like a runner nearing the end of a race. Let it all out of her and bask in the exhausted exhilaration afterward. Her shaggy tail swept the sand behind her, little shining grains getting caught in the fur. The last of it flowed out of her and she laughed again, truly happy.

What next? The Merchant had said this wouldn't be enough. They had to bring in magic from outside, too. Aethereal sat back, considering. She didn't know how to find enchanted items. You could kill someone and take their stone, the ever-present whispers in her head suggested, but the thought was quickly dismissed. The corruption did not have such a strong hold over her right now that she would even seriously consider the possibility. She'd made it this far in life without murder; she wasn't about to start now. There was time to think. Shaking herself off, the Valkhound turned and made her way out of Hydra. She'd had enough of this hot, horrid place.

exit!

Sometime after the business with the stones and the various other things her and The Piano had found were settled, Fleas made her way back to the Masked Merchant. The new tunnel caught her eye almost immediately. She stared at the thing, and its oddly sandworm-esq shape for a good long time. Where had that come from? The big snake? Was that the dreamer? Was the dreamer a cave? Was it...inside that cave? Would she see it if she went inside? She shook her head. No, whatever that tunnel was way too sketchy. She trotted up to the Masked Merchant, giving the rapidly shrinking form of Aetheral a brief glance.

"I came up with a whole new magic-thingy on my own, y'see." It'd be perfect for filling up the orb. Without the stones. She could shoot bolts of electricity. From her mouth! Sure it was a bit harder than just giving off static electricty, but how hard could it be? She breathed in, pressing on her magicka. She felt the static charge build up in her mouth. It tingled uncomfortably. Nausea swirled in her gut. The odd, tingly, wriggling feeling of electricty continued its crescendo in her mouth. It was too much. She hacked and spat, and the electricity dissipated. She pressed her ears back, glaring at the pink crystal. "Ugh, not that time. Hold on, I've got this."

"When I speak"
When I think

((Posting here to avoid rupturing the space time continuum

Fleas had it this time. It was simple. Electricity, but in her mouth. It was a pretty new and uncomfortable sensation, but she knew what to expect now. Fleas lowered her head, glaring at the stone. She pulled at her magicka for another shot. Thunderbolt. Out her mouth. Simple. The magic built in her mouth again. But this time she held it. The nausea in her gut got worse, but she held it. She grimaced, before she was forced to let it out. A lump of electric bile, weakly sparking, soared forward, was swiftly absorbed into the gemstone. She blinked. That wasn't...quite what she wanted. But it was magic, and it worked.