Timur had spawned from a rock.

He knew this, sort of. He'd seen the Oilstone shards fall away around him, heard them clink to the floor of Tunnel G. But some odd instinct lurking in the back of the Valkhound's mind said that, somewhere, he had parents. That he should find his family.

Thus he was stumbling into Draco: still sorting out his legs, and all this 'walking' business, and not very gracefully at that. He had hatched near full-grown, but his lanky body hadn't quite fully filled out yet, so that his spindly limbs were a tad too large and his clawed paws kept scuffling and pitching him this way and that.

He huffed, focused on his goal: moving forward. Problem was, he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Did he have a father? A mother? What would they look like? He didn't know what he looked like.

Just inside the Aperture, he got into a fight with a rock. A scuffle, really, a snarl and a few snaps and shoulder-check. It'd rolled, a little, when he'd stumbled into it and he'd assumed it was somehow attacking him.

It wasn't clear if he won the fight, but after a long pause, he pushed on. The clatter and guttural growls had announced his presence, but he still looked distinctly lost.

Similar to Timir, Tsvetok had spawned from a rock.

Somewhere just outside Draco in the tunnel (the only one that was open, that is) was an oilstone chrysalis among many. This one heaved and cracked, and out thumping onto the floor came a great, feathered thing drenched in the slick fluids from its previous habitat. There was no groan or words of protest; merely a hollow thunk, followed by the slow slide of something finding its balance for the first time.

Unlike Timir, Tsvetok could not care less for things like parents or family. The first immediate thought it had was that to eat, by way of using its jaws to crunch into something. Its skull-like face swung to see Timir, but the thought of eating the other Valkhound did not cross it's mind, no.

Not to imply it had some sense of camaraderie. That'd be absurd. No, it merely saw a creature bullying something smaller than it was, and decided to join in.

So, there was Timir, wrestling with his little rock, when a giant fucking chicken came running in behind him. Tap-tap-tap-tap was the first warning he got that something stupid was afoot, and the second was the horrific gargle-spat of the creature summoning something in its throat.

A long neck craned back, extended, and then spat superheated, almost white bile at the rock. Luckily for Timir, it didn't quite hit the target-- the roiling liquid smeared over the cave floor and up the furthest side of the rock away from him, steaming into Draco's air. Not that Tsvetok seemed to care that it'd nearly missed.

No, Tsvetok was descending on its prey, hissing and spitting with its crest fully flung over its red-hot face, clawing with huge forelimbs at the rock like it'd personally offended the freak.

@Timir

Timir spun, staggering and tripping onto his haunches, at the sudden sound of the rapidly tapping approach. His eyes were wide, and though the Valkhound had not yet spoken a word in his life, the very distinct thought of what the FUCK flitted through his freshly formed brain.

He hesitated, noted that the stranger was... assisting him, against his defeated enemy? The rock was definitely dead, if he were any judge. Or was it even a stranger, a thinking being? Was it just a monster or something? The idea of Lessers, Greaters, prey--it was all foreign to him. So far he only knew darkness, rocks, and now this giant flame-faced bird. Thing.

And he didn't even have rocks right, yet.

"Grrooogl," he offered, looking between the rock and Tsvetok, pushing back up to stand properly. He hacked a cough. Okay. Okay. That choked sound had not been a word. He stood, staring, still looking between this new creature and the dead rock one, and struggled to think of something that actually was.

"Timir," he managed, his voice a guttural growl. Maybe it'd serve its purpose as an introduction. Or maybe Tsevok would think he was 'Grroogl,' forever. Or maybe the stranger didn't really give a shit. And would try to eat him. Or something.

Which would be sad, because as far as Timir was concerned, the fire-faced bird was probably his new best friend.

@Tsvetok

'Thinking being' probably wasn't something that should be uttered in the same sentence as Tsvetok's name. The Fates were looking out for Timir in some way, though, because Tsvetok didn't hear the grrooogl over the sound of its own teeth biting and gnashing into the rock, wings flapping loudly, so it couldn't make any stupid assumptions like his name was Grrooogl Timir or something.

When it did hear Timir, it stopped, tiny flame-coloured eyes flicking towards him. It looked, frankly, ridiculous-- long feathers covering half of its face, gnawing on a steaming rock, still half-drooling yellow-white bile that had accumulated in its throat and hadn't been spat out with the rest of it. Slowly, its wings folded into its shoulders and its maw released the rock.

"WHAT?" It demanded, and who really knew why it was shouting?

The wheel of fortune spun, and apparently landed on 'didn't give a shit.' More accurately, though, Tsvetok just had no idea that poor Timir was trying to introduce himself. For all he knew, Timir had just called it a slur. Not that the Valkhound seemed to care.

Its attention swiftly returned to the rock and it bit at it again before loudly surmising, "you can't EAT this!" Like the rock, or perhaps Timir, had failed it in some way. "It's too HARD!"

Truly a genius of our generation.

It turned then, scarlet head swinging wildly for something edible. It eyed the Oilstone Spire for a beat before dismissing it (likely, the hand of fate alerting it that Viv paid real money for its design and didn't want it to die) and looking elsewhere. Finally, its face landed back on Timir. "Aren't you HUNGRY? Don't you want to EAT?"

@Timir

Timir briefly flinched at the other, larger Valkhound's FULL VOLUME. He wasn't a timid creature, but he wasn't sure what to make of... well, any of this, really. He hesitated: was Tsvetok as loud as he thought, or was Timir too quiet-?

He shifted his eyes to the rock, the gears in his fresh brain grinding--was it too hard to eat? Did he, in fact, want to eat? He paused to consider, before speaking, and an answering gurgle in his stomach provided a resounding 'yes' of an answer.

Timir plodded swiftly back to the rock, jaw opening far too wide, the phosphorescent glow of the maw within bright as he tried to fit his whole face around it. This did not work; he gave it another go, a fair try, before shaking his head, snorting and backing up. He dropped to his haunches, eyeing the rock with bitter accusation. "I am h..." No, the quiet response did sound wrong. Maybe to a regular conversational partner with a normal speaking tone, it'd have worked. But beside Tsvetok's BELLOW it was WRETCHED and PATHETIC.

He looked up.

"I AM HUNGRY. WHAT... WE EAT?" he asked. The verb in the middle wasn't, as yet, coming to him--it would, in time but for now he was probably, mostly, understandable, at least. He had no idea what food was, or looked like. Obviously, his new friend was far more worldly and experienced than he was.

@Tsvetok

Tsvetok didn't know why it was being yelled at.

It did not occur to them that shouting at someone may result in them shouting at you. For a beat, the Valkhound was silent, its little pea-sized brain churning overtime. It soon came to the conclusion that if Timir was yelling, then he must be trying to intimidate it in some way. Ergo, Tsvetok had to be even louder.

"I DON'T KNOW!!!" The bird belted. God forbid someone was trying to get a nap in Draco today. "WHY WERE YOU EATING IT IF IT'S TOO HARD?!"

It might have been a fair question, for someone in Tsvetok's shoes. Talons. Whatever. It didn't know what playing or wrestling was. If Timir was attacking it, then obviously it was either attacking him, or he was trying to eat it. The rock (dead, Tsvetok was certain), was terrible food. It didn't even fit in Tsvetok's food-hole.

And it was pretty sure food was meant to go in the food-hole.

Tsvetok swung its head like it was struggling to see past the flopping feather mohawk, because it was. It took another look around Draco, its nails scratching at the cave floor impatiently. "WE'RE HUNGRY," it repeated to no one in particular, like it just expected a full meal to drop in front of the pair.

@Timir

Timir hesitated, again, and his hackles rose very faintly at the defensive feeling that welled up, childlike, in his chest. "I was--I WAS... N'T... EAT IT. I WAS... KILLING IT," he answered, but the effect of his determined correction was somewhat lost by the way he had to pause to search for words.

Language was hard.

Also, he'd not actually been killing the rock.

"IT... ATTACKED... ME," he ground out, turning his head to glare at the rock.

That, also, had not happened.

Timir was just mistaken about a lot of things in life so far. Mostly, the rock, since that was about the extent of his experiences.

He looked around, squinting. "Hun--HUNGRY TOO," he replied, again correcting himself to match Tsvetok's volume.

He shook himself out, doglike (and almost fell over in the doing), and after regaining his balance he looked around. Some part of him told him that he had power, the same way Tsvetok had done the dragon-bird fire-spit thing. But he didn't know what it was, or how it worked. He focused for a moment, reaching for it.

He found a choice. Weird chaos magic, probably born of the fact that he had been created to be part of the Valkhounds of this cave. And another weird thing he couldn't describe, but that felt like weight. He hesitated; both felt... good. Right. One pulled at his stone, the other, at his whole being. He chose one at random, squinting, and tried for it.

So he stood there before Tsvetok, after announcing his hunger, and didn't move as a cloud of mist formed around him and half-obscured him from view. He stood there, getting wetter by the second, and after a moment his muffled voice emerged from the fog: "...Why?"

@Tsvetok

Tsvetok had to take a moment to consider this. Now, I couldn't tell you exactly what it's thought process was. Doing such would be like anthropomorphizing the likes of a bear. A bear doesn't actively think about things like defensive action, territory, its friends and family, and what the best move is to defend all that. Bear see food and bear eat. Bear eat human. Bear is bear. Tsvetok is Tsvetok, if you get my drift. But it did go something along the lines of...

Rock attack Timir. Timir kill rock. Rock not edible. Timir not edible. What difference between Timir and rock? Rock attack first. Timir attack self-defense style. Rock attack Timir? Rock attack Timir. Timir not attack Tsvetok if Tsvetok not attack Timir (good). Rock may attack Tsvetok (bad).

Conclusion: TSVETOK ATTACK ALL ROCKS NOW!

It turned, screaming, and almost in tandem with Timir, did the exact same thing. There was no real plan of attack: magic was new, after all-- Tsvetok's feathers hadn't even dried from the amniotic fluids of its chrysalis. It knew do magic, thing die. That was it. It did not expect magic to also affect itself and also Timir.

Mid-movement, the oversized chicken stopped moving, as did Timir. It could hear the steam radiating off its body from the mist that Timir had provided, but it had no idea why or how this was happening to him.

Perhaps for the first, only and last time, Tsvetok felt fear.

It couldn't even move its jaws to bellow at Timir. For a horrible ten seconds, neither of them could move-- and once that ten seconds was over, Tsvetok-- positioned abhorrently on one foot --immediately fell over, where it scrabbled over and then began screaming.

At the rock.

"ATTACKING ME!!!" It accused. "ATTACKING ME!!!"

@Timir

Timir would have realized that time had slowed if he'd had literally any outside context for that. The cave around them was... rocks. It wasn't like the rocks suddenly changed their speed of... being rocks. But Tsvetok--something happened. He wasn't sure... what. But the other Valkhound did, something? Something felt odd. A tingle, maybe, and then-

Timir flinched. He didn't actually see the rock attack Tsvetok. But his new pal was clearly in distress, under attack somehow, and that SOMETHING that had HAPPENED was still bothering Timir, too. So he rushed to Tsvetok's defense.

He, too, was still damp, and stupid. And he, too, now attacked the rock, a guttural snarl ripping forth from his chest. It'd have seemed intimidating, except that of course rocks did not usually feel fear.

He darted to stand between Tsvetok and the offending stone, nay, BOULDER, his hackles on end and his long tongue lolling beneath a snarl. He planted himself foursquare, braced for attack, and summoned up that chaotic magic again.

The rock instantly retaliated. Magic flared, and suddenly, two rocks--half a dozen--a dozen-... Twenty-seven rocks were gleaming there, cropping up all around the first one.

Timir yelped.

"NOOOOO," he howled, deeply alarmed--but he didn't back down. He had to protect Tsvetok, probably.

@Tsvetok

Fenmyre's hide scraped against the walls of Draco, the worn rock scratching pleasantly at its tough hide. It felt the cave breathe against it. She'd given up trying to match the slow, steady pulse, her own lungs and heart too small to hold their contents for so long before release.

Noise further on. Shrieking, like a fight. Oh please Creator, let it be a fight!

Her gait became a trot, and she began to drift from her guiding wall. She knew her way around, she'd had cycles to feel and memorise every twist and turn. She exploited that fact now to rush toward the Aperture at an unsettling speed.

It snapped to Timir's wail, honing in on its source. It was close. It slowed to its usual stalk, spell flaring to announce its arrival, swallowing all light in the area. It did not speak, or follow this up in any way, it was content to leave the two in darkness for a moment. Because Fenmyre sucks like that.

@Timir @Tsvetok hiii