Black was recovering, albeit not well. It still ached when he limped from place to place; the wounds in his flesh were still scabbing over.

The tending given to him by the bird and the lioness had eased the pain, somewhat, and certainly made the healing process faster; Makyna's cleaning of his wounds had likely prevented otherwise-certain infection. Still, the dragonfire wounds burned from time to time, and he simply felt, overall, tired.

He and Fisher had remained relatively close to Polaris. This was for a number of reasons, but primary in Black's own mind was, well, egg-sitting. He was picking his way now over the broken rubble of Polaris's cave floor, sniffing along in search of--ahh, there it was. Just past that shallow bowl that Raheerah had torn from the rock in his struggles lay a white gem, iridescent and glimmering: a tiny moonstone chrysalis.

When Black had "planted" it, it had been utterly miniscule: only a portion of a crow's talon. Now it had swelled to perhaps the size of a chicken's egg--ridiculously fast, given the time frame--and he found himself drawn back to it, time and time again.

His primary objectives were to protect Fisher, and to follow--no, to keep tabs on--the buzzing of Nemean. Aquarian had told him not to pursue--he had to remember that, now.

But secondary to these, he now had a third: to protect this egg, as well. He slid down to his chest, nosing it gently, ears pricked up--but as always, it didn't move. The mastiff laid his head on his paws, watching the crystalline lights of Polaris dance over its surface.

It was beautiful, he thought, with a gentle sigh through his nose. And it was an odd feeling: he knew that the tiny bit of rock had been vaguely alive, when he'd pressed his paw over it. But he also knew that he'd felt his own life force surge into it, and felt it spring into true being only then.

Whatever was in this stone, it was part of him--the white, to his black; the shimmering light to his void-swallowed darkness.

He was fascinated. As much as he did look after Fisher, nosing him over and constantly licking his wounds, still he returned to the chrysalis--and watched it.

He marveled that it half him, though he remembered now and again that the crow had given him her stone to begin with; would it be a crow, then, within? Whatever the case, he would wait, and watch, and guard the stone, until at last it hatched.

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((ooc -- just a casual thread, about a dog sitting on his egg. Anyone is welcome to join! @Fisher @Fallah if either of you want?))

Fallah was in search of her friend. He had been off. Fallah had been off too. She was still in the process of processing what all had happened. She felt fear more than ever now, and she didn't know how to feel about that. Thinking, Fallah made her way towards Black's scent. Her stoic friend. That's who she needed right now.

As Fallah approached, she saw her dark friend. He seemed to be guarding something. Fallah walked up softly, "Black...?" she asked without really asking. She felt that he would know what she meant as she eyed the stone he had. Was that... an egg? Has he found it? Blue eyes looked back up to her friend as she came closer, settling to lay across from him, facing him head on with the egg between them, but careful not to get too close. She wanted to know what was up, if Black would tell her. If not, she was content to just stay here, by his side in silence.

@black

"Fallah," the dog said, quickly standing at hearing her voice. He padded over, tail immediately wagging, and snuffled over her in greeting. After a brief lick to her head he turned, sitting beside the stone--but his attention seemed to be on her, and not the egg. Perhaps it hadn't occurred to him to explain it.

"How are you? Are you recovering? Are you still wounded?"

His eyes worked over her body, looking for wounds, for blood, for scars. His face was one both of joy at seeing his friend, and concern over his condition, and it was easier to read than the simplest of picture books.

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@Fallah

Fallah didn't have time to lay down before the dog was at her side. He gave her a short lick then went and sat by the object. She leaned into his touch, reciprocating with a brief nuzzle to his jaw before he pulled away to sit. He asked if she was okay, clearly concerned. Fallah thought for a moment: her shoulder was roughed up, but most of the blood had dried. Yeah, she was okay. Slowly, her sky eyes meeting his, she nodded, "I'm okay... Are you?" The feline returned the question to the dog, concern in her voice. Her eyes slid back to the chrysalis. She had been like that recently. Was that a small friend that had fallen? Swallowing, Fallah motioned to the object, her lips tense, "Is that one...?" The lynx didn't want to think of another gembound getting ripped apart, but she wanted to know what happened. How was that? Who were they to Black? Black was always looking after them, but who looked after Black?

@black

Black peered up at Fallah, tilting his head so that his pendulous ears hang rather humorously.

"I am wounded. I believe I will recover. The stone--a creature of light left it. Yet she was black. The dog has placed magic into it. Perhaps life. It grows; I will guard it." He paused, briefly, then added, "I know not what is inside."

He shuffled to curl around the stone, simply lying there--his wounds were still visible, some still open, though most appeared clean. His eyes raised to the Spire, and he tilted his head once more before nodding it at the Spire's towering pale blue crystals in the distance.

"Do you know what the stone is for?" he asked.

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@Fallah

Fallah listened to her friend, though her eyes drifted elsewhere. He explained that another creature left the stone. Had that creature died? Black confessed that he put magic in it, but that he didn't fully know what would happen, "And the other? The stone giver? Is that them?" She motioned again to the stone. With her paw. Black went to lay by it, and Fallah started to get up to lay by him, but stopped. She didn't know why, but it felt like he was with that stone, that stone was his, Fallah didn't need to be there. She wasn't hurt by it, she simply remained seated a small distance away.

Black turned his attention to the spire and Fallah's gaze followed it. He asked if she knew what the stone was for. Keeping her eyes on the spire, Fallah simply shrugged, "No." Fallah let silence fell after her words, but only for a brief moment, "I was born here, yet I do not know. It is energy, maybe, like our stones. It is maybe the stone of the whole place we live. Maybe this place is alive as well, and this is its stone." Fallah looked around the cave slowly, methodically. This place they all lived was mysterious, but Fallah wouldn't be surprised if they were somehow inside another being all together.

@black

The dog gazed off at the Spire, contemplating Fallah's words. The idea that the cave itself was a vast living thing, a Gembound on its own, was interesting to him; could it be a creature of rock? Could the caves be its organs, the tunnels, its veins? Perhaps this gem was its heart?

He looked to Fallah again, and tilted his head.

"Perhaps it is. I do not know, but it is a thing to contemplate." For a moment he was silent again, eyeing her.

"Do your wounds require tending?" he tried, unsure if Fallah saying she was all right equalled healed. He doubted it, not this fast. "I can help to clean them, if needed. And no--the thing in the stone was not destroyed; she merely broke it off, and then left."

He was silent again, before adding a curious question, head tilting slightly to one side.

"What is your purpose?"

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@Fallah

Black offered some sort of contemplation to Fallah's idea. The cat wasn't entirely serious with that response, but she wasn't really joking either. The dog then offered to tend to her wounds and she shook her head, "I have water magic to clean. You? How are your wounds?" He told her the other's stone had broken off some and Fallah tilted her head. Was that... normal? Turning to her shoulder, the cat let out a small stream of water as she turned to rinse off her shoulder. After a moment, she stopped, turning back to the dog, "I can clean your wounds. You were more hurt, I think." Fallah approached Black, but would not move until he agreed.

Black asked her of her purpose and she stopped for a long moment. Her purpose? Her purpose in what? She thought for a bit, then shrugged again, "I do not know if I have one purpose. Maybe I have many. One, perhaps, was to meet you, to meet Fisher, and another, may be to simply live. Perhaps, even, it changes. For a while, it was to figure out what was wrong in Cetus, then to find the buzzing. I have done both now, so another purpose might be on its way." Fallah settled slightly, resting her head at the end of Black's forepaws, "But... I do not think it was chance that I met you, my friend. I do not think it was chance that we found each other again, that you saved me. I do not know what it means, but I do not think it was a mistake. I have met many once, and never again. What makes us different? Why do the three of us fall together, fall away, and fall together again?" Fallah closed her eyes, "I died, but you found me: you and Fisher. Are you sure I am not alive simply by your magic?" Icy blue eyes opened again, "I do not know what to think of one single purpose, only that I have none, or that if I do, it is to live."

Fallah spoke at length, opening up her mind to her tall dark (and handsome) friend. She didn't need many to know her thoughts, but those who she chose to know her thoughts, she wanted them to know well, "Tell me, Black, my tall friend of darkness, can you have only one purpose- do you have only one purpose? If your purpose is to find the buzzing, and only that, then what does that make Fisher and I?" Her question was asked honestly. She didn't think of her feelings being hurt, she was honestly curious about how a singular purpose would work out, "What happens after you achieve your purpose?"

@black

The black dog first nodded, agreeing to the cleansing; then he listened, silent, as Fallah spoke. He contemplated each of her words carefully, weighing their meaning. He strung them together and wove them into coherent thought, and then disassembled them again, pondering over them, considering them from every angle.

Was it chance? Or was it fate? Was there such a thing?

Why was he linked to them, to Fisher? That was an easy answer: because he had chosen to be. He had first continued on his own, and then sought Fisher, sought Mau, Fallah. It had partly been coincidence, but the caves could not be all that large.

As to his purpose... That had been it. To seek the buzzing; to protect the others. To find Nemean; to protect Fisher. He had been warned that Nemean would seek to trick them all again, and the thought ran randomly through his mind now. Perhaps Fallah had not found her purpose. Or perhaps she had none, or had not chosen one. Was his preordained? He had assumed so, but what if he had chosen it?

But then... what was one, without purpose? Everything one did was purpose. To sleep, rest; to eat, to drink. To aid others, to learn. All was purpose. And he--he had been awoken for a reason. He felt it--he felt the way it clawed at him, at his blackness--his darkness, as Fallah said. It pulled it from him. He had seen glimpses of it, in the cave. Had seen memories of inkshadow creatures gibbering as they carved the images on the tunnel walls. Had seen the lashing of void as it cackled and cheered on the throne of Orion, swelling and spilling into the caves.

It called to him. He was not an emotional being like Fallah who sought meaning and simply to survive. But how could he describe this...?

He lifted his head from his paws, gazing down at the lynx that lay just beyond, and spoke--as always--simply, if perhaps unhelpfully.

"I am purpose," he said.

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@Fallah

Black, after a while, offered that he was purpose. Fallah could see and understand that, "Perhaps you are of one purpose, and I of many." She rose and went to Black's flank to tend to his wounds, her words coming between every few licks quietly and slowly, "Perhaps you are of one, I of many, and Fisher of none." she offered at a pause. The lynx tried to summon her water, but, for some reason, could not. She peered at his face for a moment, then continued cleaning her friend's wound without magic. The taste didn't bother her, nor the texture, she was focused on getting the wounds clean. She didn't want to hurt her friend, but she wanted to make dure the wounds were clean, "You were given a purpose, maybe, I find my own, perhaps, and maybe Fisher makes his own purpose." The lynx shrugged. She didn't consider herself of pure emotion, nor pure purpose. She was a being of thought. She wondered where they all fell in the scheme of things, "If you are purpose, if you have one purpose, then what is all else? What am I? and Fisher? And the egg?" Fallah didn't know what to say or think other than asking questions. She thought she might be able to explain herself, but she needed to know Black's own mind, "For me, they may be any of my purposes, perhaps for you we are a choice. I wonder what we are to Fisher, then..." The lynx mused as she moved on to another wound.

@black