MAGICKA LEVEL 91%
RESTORED TO 100%
Bring back information.
That was all she had awoken with. She needed to
bring back information. When her chrysalis had cracked and she'd tumbled out free, the urge awoke in her mind, pressing and overwhelming.
Bring back information. What information? Back where? To where she hatched? She didn't know. But she had to
bring back information.
So insisting the urge had been that she'd shot straight out from the broken larimar chrysalis like an arrow loosed. She hadn't known where to go, only that she had to go, because she had to
bring back information. Even now, wandering this dim, crystalline room, she wasn't sure if she was in the right place and looking for the right thing or not. It didn't help that it was nighttime and that her vision was poor. It wasn't that she had insomnia or had
noctambulous tendencies or anything. But she
had to gather whatever information she could. If she stayed still, the urge quickly became maddening.
She was constantly checking the scents around her with rapid tongue-flicks. Her head waggled this way and that as she slithered along the ground, drawn by any irregularity or movement. She picked up the scent of something warm and mammalian and followed it.
A den. Was this information? Nobody was home. The den had a hoard of various objects inside. Dewberry drew up to one, tasting it with her tongue for a good minute, and finding nothing that she could put a finger (not that she had any) on, pressed her rostral scale to it. She got a flash of brown, the impression of being picked up and carried. Surroundings that were different from this room. It had been brought here by something--the owner of this den? Was
that useful information?
@Minali