((ooc note: all are welcome to jump into this thread at any time and for any reason. It is not reserved for anyone. If it goes a day or two without a post I'll carry on on my own, as Dark is heading through this area!))

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The juvenile Great Horned Owl shuffled quietly along the stone. One step. Another step. His talons clicked on the rock very softly, and he listened to the faintest of echoes that came back to him.

He was blind, his green gem eyes open only a slit, blankly unseeing. The beauty of the gleaming quartz-streaked walls and starry ceiling were lost on him. But he could hear the soft brush of air across the rock, the quiet hiss as a pinch or two of sand fell and scattered. It didn't let him see, far from it--he had no echolocation or any such nonsense, and he was far too young to use his experience with sound to fully guide him. But it did tell him that he was in a vast, open space; it did tell him that there was more open space uphill from where he was. His curiosity and a sort of empty sense of purpose drew him onward.

He wasn't hungry; he'd managed to eat a grand total of one little vole since his hatching (a hapless creature he'd almost literally stumbled across, managing to clumsily pin it by sound alone), but for now, that had been enough. Since then he had made his way out of Tunnel J and into Orion, blindly oblivious to the crystal-studded draconic carving that had leered overhead.

Dark found the ground sloping up, and up, and he grew weary. He needed to rest--and he could sense that there was something up ahead, something thick, that might provide shelter. It was probably an alcove of sorts, a little cave, and the lone little groundbound owl fledgling listened for awhile--and heard nothing threatening--before making his way up the slope.

He hit a ledge, and gave a soft squeak and a hiss, clicking his beak as he hop-scrambled up it. His flightless wings flapped to aid him, and he tumbled onto the platform of Orion's great stone throne. He kept moving until, quite by chance, he blundered into it.

He hesitated, and lifted one feathered foot, gently resting his talons on the throne's base, quite near to the seat.

A vague sense of sound swept past him, like a gust of wind carrying a voice that he could not quite make out. There was something else, too--a thing he could almost see, but not quite. He didn't really understand vision; to him, a blind creature, the things that Hindsight showed him could not be explained--as they were echoes of a sense he had never known.

In any case, they seemed to pose no threat, and so the blind ball of feathers curled up against the throne to rest, his green gem eyes slipping closed.

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Majesty had never been in this part of the Origin Cave before, and even with his vision the way it was, he thought the glowing crystals on the ceiling looked beautiful. He felt a little bitter, since he knew that they would look a lot prettier without this annoying yellow haze, but there was nothing he could do about that, unfortunately. He huffed and continued on his way through the area, deciding not to look up at the ceiling anymore. Not like he could really enjoy it, anyways. Because of all the buildings surrounding him, every little noise echoed around him loudly, as if whatever was making the noise was doing it right in his ear.

Now, with his curiosity piqued, he made his way towards where he thought the sound might be. He couldn’t really pinpoint it at first, or even figure out what it was, but he eventually made his way to the throne room, just out of sight of the owl. A big open doorway like that just screamed to be explored, so he picked up the pace and went through it, his eyes immediately falling onto the throne itself. He stared at it in curiosity, holding still for a few moments to take it in. It was a big… whatever it was.

He took a step towards it after a second or two, and then he noticed the owlet, lying across a part of the throne. It was sleeping, he thought. Some part of him thought it would be funny to bark really loudly and scare the creature. He even opened his mouth to do it – but then his conscience took over at the last second and the sound got caught in his throat. You know, he was really starting to hate himself, for the way he had been acting lately. He really felt rather… gross inside, for his recent thoughts. Had he… lost track of who he was… just because he was visually impaired now? Did that really condone his recent actions?

He sat down as he thought about it, grimacing a little. He needed an attitude adjustment.

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Dark had been asleep, indeed, but with a sense of hearing that could detect a mouse moving a hundred yards away, it was little surprise that the wolf's approach halfway stirred him from his sleep. Still, it was awhile before he came fully to, stretching little taloned feet and splitting his hooked black beak in a yawn.

Green gem eyes opened and blinked owlishly around, and then Dark turned to stare directly toward Majesty. The realization hit with the thought:

Something is breathing.

Dark froze. Fear briefly gripped him as he wondered, in a vague way, whether he was being hunted. Slowly he drew his wings toward himself, fluffing out his feathers reactively and pulling in his feet. He leaned back against the throne's base, tufted ears flattening back, and instinctively sent out a frightened thought toward the breathing stranger--without the slightest awareness of what, exactly, he was doing. It felt natural, to him, like walking or eating. That said, it was a magic he had never used before--and thus it was shifting, shivering, not so much a vocal question as a whisper to Majesty's mind, and not even in words--as the owl knew few.

Instead, it was the faintest caress of thought, a touch of fear and questioning, tentative friendliness. If translated, it would have been a telepathic, frightened whisper something like:

"Are you friend, or enemy?"

The owl then lay there, staring blindly toward the breathing-creature, waiting. Hopefully he was about to meet a new friend, rather than the end of his life.

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Majesty was caught by utter surprise when he felt the tendrils of the owl’s thoughts in his mind. He supposed he should not have been surprised that such Magic existed. At this point in his young life, he had seen much to suggest that there was a lot Magic could do, and not much that it couldn’t. Still. He had never encountered someone who could communicate by thought alone. Thoughts were not like spoken words. His mind automatically translated the feelings and questioning sensations into words, but the thoughts themselves were quite vague, as if one could reach out to them forever and brush only the tips of their paws against them.

Why was Majesty suddenly thinking so esoterically? Was his brain reverting so hard to its old self that it went too far? The thought made him chuckle a little, but then he remembered the terrified owlet staring at him over in the shadow of the throne. “I’m a friend,” he said gently, but he had no idea if the creature would understand him or not. Just because he had received a thought didn’t mean he could send one. He had no idea how Arcane Magic worked. In an attempt to show that he was friendly, he laid down, and rolled over onto his back, tongue lolling out and tail wagging, blinking at the owl upside down. He didn’t yet know that the owl was blind.

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The wolf's words were gentle enough, or at least his tone was. And he didn't draw closer, as Dark would have instinctively expected from a predator out for blood--instead there was a loud rustling sound, like fur ruffling and scraping over rock.

It put him in mind of the fox creature who, upon his hatching, had tried to use cruel magics on him--which had backfired, and sent the animal into a seizure. Of course, the blind owl had had no idea that the animal was a fox, that the magic had been harsh, or even that the rustling had been a seizure. But he'd known that the animal was in some distress, and now this one, too, was doing it.

Was it his own proximity? Did he make furred creatures fall upon the ground and writhe in pain? He blinked large gem eyes and shuffled blindly backwards, bumping the throne and fumbling up and into the seat. He didn't look like a king, though--just a lost, half-white-fluffed, blind fledgling bird.

He squeaked, worried, clicking his beak, softly speaking the only word he knew to associate with "friend." "...Bevy?" Dark then focused, trying to remember words, their meanings--how could he ask if this creature was all right? His open emotional state and worry triggered a surge of magic, or rather opened him to the spiritual memories of the throne beneath, though he didn't realize it at first.

Instead of grasping hidden truths, however, the little owl's juvenile mind was flooded with crashes of incomprehensible sound and visions--sights--that he could not even grasp. He shrieked and leapt from the throne, hurtling toward Majesty as if running for cover, trembling and crying out piteously as he reached the wolf. His mind still reeling, he tried to curl up to the canine, hissing blindly back at the throne, terrified.

All thoughts of the wolf potentially eating him were driven from his mind by the mad surge of magic. Instead, Majesty was suddenly a safe haven--something large, something, perhaps, with teeth and fangs that could keep the evils of the angry rock-chair at bay.

Dark took a deep breath, and like a frightened infant who knows only one word, cried out again.

"BEVYYYY!" he wailed, though his little-bird friend was likely nowhere near.

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The starlit room was absolutely breathtaking. It did not, however, distract the momma bird from her babies call-- okay, the owlet wasn't her baby and she was hardly out of chickhood herself but still. She heard the desperate cry, and like a bullet she was speeding off to find the owl. She had only wandered from him for a little bit-- you know, let him figure out how to do things while she was safely enough nearby. Maybe go hunting for a while... she didn't know if this bird ate Bugs or Bones and she didn't really want to fetch him bones, but she would if she had to.

Her feathers noisly fluttered in the wind, so different from what her son's beautiful, silent gliding would be like once he was all grown up. Not that she knew that, but indeed, one day she would probably envy his flight. For now, she felt nothing for the baby except wild, desperate panic. She eventually spotted the figure of a canine, and as she descended (ready to ask if they had seen the owl) she also spotted him.

"Bevy!" She chirped urgently, still not having a name for the young one and.. Well. She landed beside the pair and eyed the wolf uncomfortably, her feathers ruffling into place as she put her wings at her sides. "What happened? Is he hurt?" She demanded-- and then, perhaps a bit awkwardly, realized that she knew this wolf... Although Enna could not place the creature, or his name, she recognised him. A shiver ran up her spine.

... How did she know...? Who was this strange wolf that seemed so familiar?

[[ hope this is okay, Fira :O <3 if this end bit messes up your timeline I can change it-- this is Enna not Calypso, so Calypso wouldn't have recognized (or cared) if she kinda recognized the wolf so *waves hand* ]]

It seemed all was well – for about two seconds. And then suddenly the owlet was just… freaking out! And Majesty, being as young as he was, had no idea how to calm the poor boy down! He was backing up against the throne and then calling out for Bevy, whoever that was. And then – oh my! He was hurtling straight for the wolf! Majesty took a single step back, unsure of what the bird was doing, but when all he did was… essentially cuddle against him and making unintelligible hissing sounds at the giant stone thing, Majesty just kind of stood there, dumbstruck.

“Um,” he said, mind flailing uselessly around for something to say that might calm the owlet down. “It – it’s okay. It won’t… it won’t… hurt… you?” Okay, so he could have been better at words right then, but he had never dealt with a frightened Gembound before. Okay, there was that time with Ghost, but Ghost hadn’t been hissing and flailing and trying to bury himself against the wolf. “It’s alright!” he tried again, desperate to get the bird to just stop flailing.

And then there was another bird in the room with them and demanding answers to questions and Majesty just stared uselessly at the bird called Bevy/Enna/Calypso. “He… I don’t know what happened!” Majesty cried. “He was fine and then suddenly, I don’t know, he got scared of something and came flying at me, trying to… hide? Do you know him? What do we do to calm him down?” In the back of his mind, Majesty thought to himself: First thing on my list of to-do’s – figure out how to stay calm while others are freaking out.

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The blind owl trembled, wide gem eyes staring about at nothing. At the sound of Bevy's voice, he at least sprang from the poor befuddled wolf toward Bevy, apparently trying to cuddle her, too--though she'd likely pull away, due to her feathers. He didn't know that, though.

All he knew was that he was like a frightened child, as near to sobbing as an owl could get, trying to forget the horrid clashing and flashing that had filled his mind to breaking. Creatures so young weren't meant to be blind, to see only nightmares--and on touching things, at that. Dark had felt shockingly alone, lost, and afraid. He still did--though the presence of the other fuzzy-creature had calmed him. And Bevy--now he felt, at least, like things might be under control. Bevy could--no, would--protect him. Dark clung close to her, feathers still ruffled straight out, still trembling.

"NOISES-Bevy! THINGS-Bevy! Scaaaaaaared!" He twisted his head, sitting on the stone, to stare vaguely in the direction of the throne again--though he was a little off--oblivious to the effect he'd had on poor Majesty.

The owl took a shuddering breath, and then more quietly, and still while facing the throne, nearly whispered--"Baaaaad..."

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Ohh... The poor little owl. Bevy was relieved he wasn't hurt though, just scared. She nodded at Majesty as her baby came charging at her, hopping back just a bit, holding out a talon so that he would hit that first and maybe stop before he got all up in her feathers. They could hold hands-- talons-- that was safe. She wished she could comfort him, wrap her wings around him like Aza'zel probably did with all of his friends.

"Bad?" She asked softly, considering what might have happened. The throne had spooked him, somehow. It didn't seem too dangerous, but she did remember Makyna's way of showing her visions from her perspective. Maybe this owl had magic like hers-- in which case, it was all the more important she return the owlet to her home in Maji Walezi.

"You saw something when you touched that, right?" She asked softly, trying to work it out. "That must be your magic. You can see into the Past. Little one, don't worry. The Past was long ago. There's nothing scary here. Just a friend and a... a bunch of rocks." Bevy had to hope he understood-- he was taking to language quite slowly. It worried her a little; a baby bird who couldn't fly, see, or talk very well...

But she would make it work. "Thank you for finding him, um, I'm Bevy." She had the strangest feeling she knew this wolf but again, she could not think up a name for the canine. It was quite troubling.

From somewhere above, on a ledge, a small chrysalis emits the softest of cracks, followed by silence. Only a few moments pass until a louder crack comes from the chrysalis, a single, small hairline crack appearing across it. One may notice that whatever creature dwells inside is about to face a rather unfortunate fate - the chrysalis being on a small ledge and all. The creature inside is clearly still unaware. More cracking sounds come, and with each sound, the lines across the chrysalis grow and spread out. Eventually, it breaks, and what comes flooding out is a tiny, black and somewhat fuzzy creature. It is practically thrown out of it's former residence, and straight off the ledge.

The creature could almost immediately be identified as a bird. How, you ask? By the violent screeching and squawking the poor thing makes as it plummets onto the ground below.

It lands on it's back - almost comically, in fact - with it's legs flailing a little. It's at this point one would notice the white gem that replaces one of her digits on the right foot. Miraculously, however, it seems uninjured. It doesn't take long for the bird to crawl onto it's feet and begin chirping quietly to itself, eyes only half-open and looking around, vaguely alarmed.