Horribleness is a hardy and ubiquitous weed. Its needs are little but as common to the caves as the rock lining its many hollow spaces: darkness with plenty of time to develop into a significantly worsened form. Shade so readily available, palaces and crumbling ruins alike provide the proper environment for such an infestation to flourish. And none can forget the less noteworthy places also capable of hosting these insidious sprouts. Numerous dank spots lie within rooms and along the routes between them, awaiting the opportunity to birth and nourish another horror planted in their soil.

Clinging to the wet sloping wall that descended from Pisces just now was a perfect example of these facts, a silvery nodule that could've been mistaken for simple condensation if not for its opaque surface and size, small as a child's fist and larger than the average water droplet. Quite the unremarkable thing, other than its shine, but utterly normal for a chrysalis. After all, in order for any Gembound to claim their stone the prettiest, someone had to lose out to random chance and be stuck with either the ugly or mundane. For a long cycle it had resided here, a tiny growth below any passerby's notice.

Who knew if that'd change once a tapping began from inside its, up until present, unbroken shell.

Regardless of whether the sound met anyone's ears, the efforts of the stirring consciousness trapped in a prison of hematite remained persistent. Though the taps had started out slow, each second's passage hastened them until their assault upon stone attained a fevered rhythm. Progress was gradual, the repeated salvo showing no effect upon the hard exterior at first, but then slivers broke off and fell away from the glimmering surface. Another minute more, and those advanced to shards. A hole, no bigger than a pin would poke, formed. What insight it offered to the chrysalis' dweller was little, nothing more than shifting gray fuzz glimpsed beyond its edges.

The next action proved far more informative, another determined peck proving far more forceful than necessary to ensure entrance into the greater world now that an opening had been created. Chunks of stone shell flew every which direction as its entirety burst apart from this final thrust. Amongst the chaos, a puffball slid into view, though it was quite possible it would soon exit from sight. The ground as slippery as the walls, the Gembound's tumbling rapidly gained momentum, and a flurry of frantic twitters announced a harrowing journey down the tunnel's steep decline.

Always it was a pity and an annoyance to leave Fornax after bothering to make a pilgrimage there for the sake of bathing scales in soothing humidity. The first, for leaving behind such comfort could never not be a sad affair. And the second came courtesy of innate cold-bloodedness and the stinging, icy slap in the face Miriam despised each instance she slid beyond the pleasurable room's threshold. Despite best efforts to maintain a face at perfect ease with her circumstances, eyes and nose inevitably scrunched up at the sudden transition, and the long relaxation she'd indulged in was forgotten, replaced by the irresistible desire to flee to her next destination.

Today proved no different, a low hiss emitting from her soon as she departed. Immediately her sights fell upon where the side passage she shuddered in met up with the main route, and serpentine coils hastened to wind their way toward freedom and the slightly more tolerable clime which Orion promised. It was at this spot where two slopes joined together, her head swiveling in the direction she favored, that an infernal racket reached keen and curving ears. Any musical quality it might have possessed had been lost within such desperate trilling, and so ill-concealed revulsion greeted the presence once her attention redirected to it.

A brute not used to delicate work might've crushed the silver ball bouncing along the ice-slicked path or missed catching it entirely due to poor coordination. Fortunately for the little creature, Miriam was of a more refined breed, a budding craftswoman whose claws manipulated tools more often than shredded flesh. She unblinkingly tracked the trajectory and lowered her hand just enough for soft fuzz to smack against sturdy scales. Then the new acquisition was placed under a wide, examining gaze; those vibrant blue depths catalogued every apparent virtue and fault.

Her grasp was the scale upon which this hatchling's ultimate worth would be weighed. However not once did she announce the fact. Instead, a restrained smile—fangless to quell fears—hovered above the bird, awaiting its eventual glance.

"Why, hello there, little one," she chirped. A giggle like crystal chimes in a breeze welcomed the new life to existence. "My, my... that looked quite a fall! You're lucky I was around, else I doubt that would've done any good for your tiny wings. Oh, my manners! So sorry. Do you speak yet?"

Certainly most birds she'd witnessed possessed far more impressive plumage than the fluff peered upon now. No, this appeared the ugliness and awkwardness of youth. Given time, the hideousness should rectify itself. She hoped.

Neat as her interception of the newborn's descent had been, rarely was a sudden stop a pleasant experience. Not that the previous regular alternations between air and frigid earth had been much more comfortable—already the first pains this bird would ever know were the bruises peppering their tiny body. The final smack against the keeled scales of their rescuer's palm now turned out to be the next agony, the impact like bashing against a brick wall for someone of such diminutive stature. If Miriam expected an immediate response to her question, she'd be disappointed. For many seconds after her last enthusiastic syllable faded into silence, the bundle of underdeveloped feathers merely shivered: cold, dazed, and brain rather rattled from the entire ordeal.

The platform they rested on, Miriam's palm, wavered a tad. Much as the tatzelwurm could hold a statuesque pose with ease for lengthy periods of time when the situation demanded so, her ears were flattening against her skull and her nostrils subtly flaring. Jaw beginning to clench so an involuntary chattering of teeth could be silenced, she leaned farther inward. Warm breath gusted over damp feathers.

"Hu—hello? Ya—you haven't frozen over, have you, dear?" More so upset by the chill's effect on the steadiness of her voice than concerned by the lack of birdsong, the corners of the polite smile she held drooped into a mild frown. Eyes darted between her new possession and the ground, reconsidering past actions. Reevaluating whether that brief expenditure of energy had truly been worth the effort when she could've already slithered off to a nicer part of the caves.

Only once her hand started lowering did the tiny body deliberately shift about. A beaked head arose from where it'd been tucked within the mass of silvery fluff. The eyes set within it were quite the opposite of those gargantuan ones observing them in turn: dark, beady, and forbidding.

Miriam paused. "Oh, there you are." Relieved laughter bubbled up from her throat.

An innocuous comment, but the bird must've taken issue with it. The puffball gathered up air into its young lungs, expanding like a balloon, and a fresh sequence of tweets burst from them. These rang far more accusatory than the panicked ones of before. And if there was any doubt, their accompanying assault confirmed their ornery attitude. They pecked away at the fingers of the giant holding them, beak wielded as a dagger.

If the bird had been a more fierce being such as the likes of her dear Claude, that Kyte whose loyalty was an ongoing little project of hers, perhaps the defiance on display would've evoked a more peeved reaction. Struggles against her will never tended to gain a hearty endorsement when she typically expected deference toward someone of her superior design. Instead pecks made nary a dent in metallic scales, of course utterly ineffectual when the attacker behind them was a child in size and mindset, and so she overlooked the futile attempts with an amused air about her. The outburst allowed plenty of time to continue evaluating her current prospect.

Honestly, aside from the spirited behavior, they were quite boring to behold. Other than the silver and gray feathers, an unflattering shade of yellow streaked over the hatchling in odd spots. It served little to improve their ruffled appearance, maybe even worsening the overall picture. And as for the stone? She'd nearly missed it, the telltale glittering slash almost hidden by the similarly colored plumage. So disappointingly mundane were they that the temptation grew to drop the tiny waste of attention right then and there, freeing her to explore more profitable ventures. Miriam didn't even bother to suppress a yawn upon taking her fill of the sight, and jaws opened the widest she'd ever let them in the presence of undeserving company.

Long fangs seized the bird's prey instinct, the glinting danger cutting their wordless tirade short. They ceased attack entirely, motionless except for the deep heaves of a body replenishing its expended breath, and stared.

Upon Miriam noticing the sudden silence, she gradually closed her mouth. More than a small amount of relish was taken in the awe she received, head tipping back, a smile upon her lips again. There was the appropriate acknowledgment her majesty demanded. She basked in it for a few seconds more before deigning to offer them another sample of her voice.

"Now that you're quite finished, I see the original question may need some revising. Not can you speak, but will you eventually if you hear enough words. I suppose I can start simply. If you understand me in any way, say yes. If not, then nothing at all will obviously suffice. Quite straightforward though rather monosyllabic for my tastes if you've gathered already."

Perfect if the hatchling proved to be dimwitted instead of merely limited in vocabulary.

Dark eyes made it difficult to read comprehension. Pupils nearly blended into their surrounding irises, telltale dilation or contraction was concealed from all but the most attentive. Although she might’ve possessed the capability, Miriam lacked the patience for such careful observation, and so while looking upon the bird with a gaze that threatened to dangerously narrow, nothing really registered besides her captive’s continued stunned pose. The subtle turn of gears escaped notice, the fresh hatchling processing the undesirable situation they were now stuck in. Breaths slowed into calmer, less shaky inhales until at last they could have been an unmoving statuette resting in her palm.

Then they shuffled in place, feet barely noticeable beneath the rotund bulk of their fluff except for the tippy-tap of their little toes upon scales. They tensed up, relaxed their shoulders a fraction, and cast their eyes downward.

A barely audible noise rose to Miriam’s ears. These flicked in recognition of the disturbance, low and too brief to even begin assigning a word to it. Her head tilted the slightest, and she curled claws in closer to the bird’s body. Their sharp tips didn’t poke a single underdeveloped feather out of place, only hovered close by as a potential prod for response.

"Pardon?" Despite this, her query remained chipper and bright. "You’ll have to speak up a bit more, dear. Large ears don’t always catch small sounds."

Another noise, identical to the first. The bird had lifted their beak, and if the forceful attitude coating the monosyllable they delivered didn’t make clear their opinion of the current line of questioning, the glare leveled at the tatzelwurm crystallized it.

Say yes if he understood her? How about—

"Nah."

The defiance truly mirrored her Claude so much. Still, the hatchling remained as threatening as a breeze. Petulance from this epitome of a pipsqueak mollified Miriam’s more tyrannical tendencies, and the urge to rake out rebellion stayed dormant in the tatzelwurm’s heart. Where mouthiness should have brought her claws farther inward for a disciplinary clamp around that little body, instead lips trembled with the effort of suppressing a wider smile. Actions which should have been infuriating registered as utterly adorable. The temptation to giggle and elevate the baby bird’s sullenness to greater heights grew the longer she took in his unflinching glare.

"Really," she said archly. This pathetic slip of a creature thought he was pulling one over on her by choosing a response other than the ones she’d provided him? "I believe you’re a little confused—no doubt from that tumble you took. Poor darling… Not able to tell your yeses from your nos." Sickening quantities of honey dripped from her words. "Oh, well, hopefully your brain will sort itself out in due time. Maybe once we flee this awful cold."

For show and emphasis, a shudder ran throughout her body. Much as she despised the cold, it'd be folly to assume mere gusts of frigid air would be enough to render her vulnerable. No, she was merely disgruntled by how it stiffened her joints and consequently wreaked havoc on the fluid movement of her coils. These conditions, always so irritating, chipped away at her inherent gracefulness.

Miriam's palm shook the slightest as the chill temperatures took their toll, and despite the clear spite present in his statement, the baby bird had no choice but to dig in tiny talons to maintain his less than ideal perching spot. He huffed, no doubt still very displeased by his current circumstances. But then his captor's casual diagnosis struck him like a sudden bolt, tipping the world sideways. Had his feathers not been as damp, they would've ruffled instantly from the shock.

"Nah, nah, nah." Like a skipping record, he chirped away incessant denial at the insinuated brain damage. With each repetition, the pitch jumped higher, increasingly distressed and shrill. "Nah. Nah!"

She was calling him an idiot, wasn't she? A mush-brained, useless for anything, waste of space. And not only that, she was lavishing pity on him too! That lousy collection of scales didn't know who she was dealing with. Why he should—he ought to—

Well, being so fresh out of the chrysalis, he didn't have a plethora of ideas, but surely something sufficiently punishing would come to mind if he thought hard enough. Meanwhile, the bigger issue was convincing this broad of his not to be underestimated intellect. Abandoning the attempt at doing this through hammering negatives, so far ineffective, judging by how Miriam raised her unoccupied hand to her mouth and smothered the inevitable giggles resulting from the spectacle, other words in his limited vocabulary were moved onto. He loosed a series of frustrated tweets beforehand—not yet introduced to the wonders of vulgar language, they were the best means of expression he had to work with.

"No," the bird relented to proper speech over the lazy execution he vastly preferred. "Yes, understand. No confused. No sorting out!"

He pecked at one of the claws surrounding him and returned an expectant glance to the tatzelwurm as if to confirm her own comprehension.

Just as fish were drawn to bait, so too did birds demonstrate themselves to be equally gullible. Similar diets taken into account, it made perfect sense to Miriam how easily she'd managed to reel this clueless child in. Had she the inclination to wet her paws and a tolerance for the dreadful stench tied to the job, perhaps she would've been an excellent fisher in another life. In this one, however, she merely maintained wide eyes full of false sympathy and cooed comfort to mask the smugness radiating off her scales.

"Oh, dear, of course you do." Her hand, no longer used as a clamp over laughter, airily waved away the spluttered words. "Don't let anyone, not even me, tell you otherwise! That's a good spirit to have. It'll do you good to keep it up."

He wasn't able to read her deception. Even so, what sounded like cloying sentiments must've given the bird quite a nasty headache. Not once did the impertinent little creature cease his glaring while hearing them; if anything, the expression grew ever more baleful, eyes already dark impossibly managing to worsen by the second.

Quite an impressively sized ill temper for one so small. She wondered how much could be gained by directing it at more appropriate targets than herself. Was there even any possibility of a true threat when it originated from such a tiny being? Maybe that'd be an entertaining personal project to explore in the near future.

"Do you have a name, little one? Is there a sound or sounds that you associate with yourself? For instance, I'm Miriam. I don't know what it means, but I know it is me. Do you have something like that too, hmmm?"

While he'd broken his silence at last with actual words, the bird clearly had no interest in striking up a rapport with Miriam. Implying a lack of brain cells, whether maliciously or not, obviously didn't tend to lead to warm feelings on the recipient's part. He might've absorbed the concept of names like any other child would new information, but not a single noise that could be construed as a proper answer slipped from his beak. Instead he continued using his beady eyes to burn holes into his captor. Young and small, it was the worst he could do in his present situation.

She held back a sigh of exasperation. This outcome had not been unexpected, of course, her decision to provoke a calculated one. Nevertheless, feline curiosity insisted that she probe for useful behavior at least a second or two longer. If nothing else from this Gembound amused her so, she'd have no problem returning him to the frigid and frozen tunnel he'd blindly tumbled his way into. Nature could assert her will in Miriam's stead if that was his ignorant little desire; doubtless she'd exhibit far more cruelty than the tatzelwurm could ever dream of embodying.

"All right," she allowed, feigned cheer unshakable in the face of such anger, "That's fine. You can figure one out later. How about magic then? Is there a certain sort of power you feel in your grasp? An invisible something you think is under your control?"

Smoldering coal-black eyes dialed back their intensity as he processed this next batch of questions. An inarticulate grunt of confusion followed before the bird cleared his throat, awkward in his nasally request for clarification. "Eh, power?"

With the way she'd purred it, the term seemed mighty important, but damned if he had a clue what she meant by all that other nonsense she spewed afterward.

"Yes, power." And there was that purr again, deep and throaty in her satisfaction at the interest expressed toward the word. "It's... oh, dear me, how should I put it? It's a force deep within you that can be exerted upon your surroundings. With enough effort, anything can fall under your influence when you use it. Here, let me show you. It's easier that way."

No need to waste her precious energy reserves on a truly magnificent feat. A simple parlor trick ought to do the job splendidly enough. Using her free hand and trying her best not to spill the bird from the palm of her other, Miriam leaned forward and scooped up some frosted over pebbles scattered along the slick tunnel floor. Not one to miss the opportunity to put on a show, she waved the collection of useless rock in front of her captive audience's beak, ensuring he had a good view of what existed before she worked her magic. Then claws clenched, hiding it away while she directed a thin tendril of essence at that which she desired to mold to her will.

Heat flashed over keeled scales and dissipated as quickly as it came. For the sake of suspense, she allowed a long, excruciating pause to enjoy the complete attention she'd successfully secured from the nameless bird in her grasp. Just as he began to squirm in place, betraying a growing impatience to see results, claws at last fell open to reveal what lay inside. Where once multiple dull pebbles had sat, a solitary orange gem now gleamed like firelight in their place.

Miriam watched, lips pressed together in a fang-concealing smile, as the bird clacked his beak—once, twice, thrice—without a single sound escaping it.

"And there you have it!" she chirped once it became evident he'd been shocked into speechlessness. "Magic. I assume you can do something like that? Most everybody can. If you're up to the task, of course. That nasty fall and all..."