Cryptid had peacefully slept in chrysalis, longer past the time it would have taken Cryptid to reach adulthood, almost thrice over.

But now, Cryptid was awake. The bat-hybrid had a feeling that it was possible to destroy the chrysalis with ease, what with Cryptid's powerful wingspan.

First though, Cryptid tried to sense what awaited outside this chrysalis, reaching for a part of Cryptid that had similarly been dormant.

Magic.

But Cryptid's sleep might have left Cryptid's magic too dormant, for Cryptid sensed nothing.

There was nothing more to do, then, but hatch. And so hatch Cryptid did, breaking open the chrysalis of Nephrite with a spread of wing-arms.

For some long minutes, the child was left on their own, to explore and gain a few first impressions. But the hatching had flicked some long-laid magic tripline, one that severed the moment a shard of gemstone fell free.

It wasn't that he couldn't be there instantly; it was more that he'd been attending to other business. But he did appear at last, a flash of indescribable not-color fading into the settling of a black cloak. Red pinprick eyes took in the scene for a moment, glancing over hatched chrysalis and neonate.

"What a wonderful child," the Collector crooned at last. "I am Algol, The Collector and the one to give you life. You have many siblings to find--ahh, but they hatched much earlier--and a great future ahead of you. Do you have a name?"

@Cryptid

The grown-yet-new gembound did not move far from the broken chrysalis, studying it with a thoughtful look for a moment. What Cryptid thought of the chrysalis exactly was not yet clear, but there was something here to be analyzed.

One of Cryptid's bat ears twitched at the sound and sight of a being fading into existence. Was that normal, Cryptid wondered? Pronouns were not something Cryptid had considered, either, but this being was Cryptid's father, despite not saying the word, and that had Cryptid pondering pronouns.

The Collector, Algol, was a male parent, that was a father. Cryptid was one of his children. One of a number, from the sound of it all. But choosing pronouns sounded like effort, and Cryptid was perfectly comfortable simply using the pronouns of those that Cryptid met.

So for now, talking to Algol, Cryptid was a he. "Yes, I have a name," he spoke after a moment to gather his thoughts, his voice having a natural churring sound to it, like a bat. "I am Cryptid."

His head tilted slightly. "Why do I have a great future ahead of me?" he wondered aloud. That struck him as odd. "I am new, and I have done nothing. Why do I receive a great future?"

Already, his thoughts were patterns of exchange.

"I created you, among the others," he explained.

A hand reached behind him, drawing out first one folding chair and then a second, seemingly from thin air. These he settled before him; he took one, gesturing to the other. If Cryptid were capable of sitting, well; here was a nice chair.

"You are my ally, then. My child, my family," the Collector explained, a purring cheer to his tone. He was pleased this one could speak. It would make things easier. "That is the 'why,' and the 'how,' both, for you have great opportunity to be trained in all I know. I can teach you the inner workings of a stranger's mind, and how to get anything in the universe you might desire. Your siblings have quite the head-start, but there's plenty for everyone," he assured, fangs glinting beneath his hood.

@Cryptid

Cryptid sat down, the position somewhat awkward with his winged arms. And he listened, but he was still not sure he understand.

His voice was slow, uncertain. "...Are you my ally, as I am your ally? You offer much to me, so I think you might be. But I do not understand why you offer much to me. I am new, untested. Is a bond of family enough to will one to be an ally?" He frowned, then shook his head, confused, for that was not quite what he meant.

So he tried again. "Bonds of family must be powerful, but I do not see what I offer you in this exchange. Is it the pleasure of my success? I do not know if that seems like enough, and I do not yet know if I will succeed. I do not even know what I want, truly."

A thought rolled through his mind, and he tentatively cast out his magic once more. It once more failed.

"I suppose, one thing I would like, is for my magic to function. I reach for it, but I cannot make it work. Do you know how it is meant to work? ...But still, I do not know what I offer you."

The Collector listened, hands clasped politely before him; when Cryptid had finished speaking he stood from his chair, approached and knelt, with a long sigh of satisfaction and approval.

"What a wholly perfect child you are," he said, as if in answer, and for a moment contemplated things. Silence only stretched a few beats before he continued. "It is true, your instinct that all things are exchange. Never accept a deal that is unfair to you," he purred. "But I will teach you, as was my intent--no strings attached, of course--for the potential of cooperation. You are newly hatched--I did not think you would have the skill and understanding with language to hold such a conversation, or I would have begun with that." Strange, for a child--even one so late--to be hatched so eloquent. Did it mean something-?

"I have taught your siblings my methods and a few tricks; I offer safe refuge and a network of family to utilize when needed. And in return, we share information, and our spoils. It is, I think... a good arrangement. No contract required." He stood, taking a breath and brushing his robe down. "For now, let us take things one step at a time. Your magic. Magic is very powerful, but it needs honing, training. I cannot give you a metaphor you will understand," because if he started in with examples of forges and steel or practicing with weapons, well, this kid wouldn't know what those things were. "But the short answer is: try again, and keep trying... until it works. And then continue trying, until it works consistently and well."

@Cryptid

Cryptid considered the Collector with a vague sense of being startled. His parent knelt before him and praised him, for questioning him... But if the world worked the way Cryptid thought it did, perhaps that made sense, in a distant way. And it seemed, indeed, that it did. The world was indeed an exchange.

The potential of cooperation, that was enough? Perhaps it was. Potential was all anyone had when making judgements to begin with sometimes. The potential of a child, for example, like him, hatching. Yes, potential was an exchange that could pay off, Cryptid decided.

Red eyes noted intently as well, the deal offered. A safe refuge, a network of family and information sharing both. As well as spoils. He waited for the Collector to finish speaking before he spoke again.

"It is a good arrangement, I think," his voice with its churring tone agreed. "I will practice my magic, he added.

"What spoils do we share?" he wondered, having caught note of that. Then, as an afterthought, he focused on this magic. For the first time, it worked.

He sensed the magic in his own gem, and more distant gems, and he tried to tell if he sensed a gem from his parent. Gems... They seemed to be essential. There was a word, gembound, for what he was. But were all beings gembounds?

The Collector shone brightly in that magic: a gemstone somewhere within him, indeed. There was no telling where, precisely, but the fact that he held one was brilliant in its clarity.

"That, said the Collector, "depends very much indeed on what we each return to our shared spaces. The others are still out learning the world, as I expect you will wish to do, perhaps for some time." His words were a reassuring purr. He understood that time would be needed; he did not expect immediate payback of any kind. "And once you all begin to learn your trades, my own stocks will be open to you for use. Magical items, gemstones that still bear life... all wonderful objects for outside exchanges and deals." He smiled, then, pleased with something or other.

"But in the end, the greatest goal for us to buy, is happiness. I find my own in amusing myself, over the millennia; but you may purchase whatever you find brings you joy."

@Cryptid

Time... Yes, that made sense. Learning the world would take time, much as learning his own magic would. And he could return here for guidance, if need be, by the sound of it. The sound of the reassuring purr to his parent's words was oddly comforting.

"Trades..." Cryptid spoke, almost without thinking, then gave a dip of his head. "I will learn," he agreed with a churr, for he could not imagine not learning. Knowledge felt important, in a way he could not yet describe. Transactions can easily, feelings less so.

And therefore, the idea of happiness... Cryptid knew the word, what it meant, but he did not yet know what it meant for him. How frustrating. Yet, it seemed as if his parent did not expect him to necessarily know what would make him happy from the start. "I will have to learn what brings me joy, as well," he admitted, aloud.

They glanced around the cave, a wondering to them. "Is this our..." he paused, searching for the word. "Home?" he eventually settled on, though he considered the word base first. But home was more family-associated in his thoughts, for some reason.

The Collector looked around, and sighed dramatically. "...For now," he said, with a tone of admission. "My usual choice of abode is... unfortunately overrun by vermin, at the moment. A fact that I hope will soon change."

He paused, and waved one hand vaguely. "You may go and find what brings you joy, Cryptid. Or you may ask as many questions as you like, and ask for teaching... on whatever your little heart desires."

@Cryptid