Home was a sweet sensation she had missed dearly since she fell asleep. Canis wasn't quite that anymore. Unlike the time before the fall, when she had been a spectre, she did not know of the change that had wracked that place. Everything was undeniably different. Unfamiliar. Broken, she found as she watched Eythan turn his back to the pale king once again. Their time of mourning hadn't quite passed. The older boy had quite a habit of picking at his scabs, scrubbing restlessly at them until they bled anew. By extension, he was great at rubbing salt against others's wounds. There was no malicious intent—Eythan was distraught, looking for reactions because he just couldn't let the memory of it die. As she eavesdropped, she found that the brothers shared some unspoken agreement—every verbal war was sharply cut off as soon as it got too close to the fall itself. Fortune left to think on it.

So, day-dreaming as she walked, she managed to find her way to the sparsile vault's forum. She called uneasily upon her magicka, keeping it on the passive. However, it would seem she was out of touch with the mycelial realm today.

@Othello

Othello couldn't help but stretch his legs today. It had been a long time since he left the familiarity of Monoceros and he felt that now was as good of a time as any. Even with the brothers, Othello found himself drawn to the room of stars, lost in the space-themed ceiling more than anything he'd ever found interest in before. Even Odyssey couldn't hold his attention as long as the ceiling of Orion could.

It was no different today either, and as soon as he entered the room, his head tilted upwards towards the starbound ceiling in awe, as it had been many cycles since he'd allowed himself in this very room. He dwelled in Monoceros for a while now, sleeping mostly, allowing himself time to practice his things in as much secrecy as he could.

It wasn't long before the mutant realized he wasn't alone and spotted the odd deer before him, closer to the center of the room than he. His head tilted and his slinky body crept forward at a painfully slow pace, trying to be as quiet as possible.

@fortune

Blissfully unaware of impeding doom, she absent-mindedly called back out to the cave's magicka. It was unfortunately ironic that luck would not be in Fortune's favor. All the attempt conjured was a sharp pain rocketing through her being. Drawn viciously from her reverie, she flopped messily onto the floor, eyes screwed shut. A mantra slipped out, soft words spoken above the calamity raging in her conciousness. "Fate favors the brave, the courageous, the persistent." One day, she had conjured up that statement from seemingly nothing. It offered self-confidence and she held it close. Someday, she'd find the opportunity to offer it to someone else—perhaps her wards.

@Othello

The other seemed to enjoy talking to itself, which Othello didn't mind at all. It only seemed to aid in his sneaking, which he ultimately appreciated. He went unnoticed for a while, but he stopped well within a good amount of distance away from her. He slinked carefully behind a rock, wondering what the chances where that he'd be able to reach into her mind, or even better, make her see things that aren't really there. Little does he know of course that she practices the same as he.

He inhales sharply, though tries to be discreet although his breathing his quite loud when inhaling so deeply, and exhales a myriad of spores into the room, directing them towards the duiker. Never before had this spell worked so well as far as spore-count goes and he couldn't be happier. Now, he just had to wait for the effect. Settling behind his rock, he waited rather impatiently to see what his hallucinogenic spores would do to the gembound.

@fortune rip

Drawing herself onto unsteady limbs and inhaling sharply, she found her mind suddenly much more slack. Usually, she would find such a lack of activity to be alarming. This sensation was welcome in the face of such an awful failure. But as dark eyes opened wide and found herself reliving the Fall, she gasped softly. Something was wrong, so wrong. She couldn't breathe. Her logic offered that it wasn't real but her mind could feel everything. Before her, the fallen king's corpse mangled itself, spindly black talons bleeding from every place they could. Crawling, crawling, crawling. Tearing into her numbly. "No!" She shrieked, scampering back across the floor. "No, no, nonononon-NO," Fortune's voice cracked as it rose with each sob. Screwing her eyes shut and opening them again, she found herself grounded. Shaking.

Unfocused, her magicka sputtered to life again, trying to offer a view into the mycelial world for the source. Eyes searching wildly into the beyond, she found a cluster and, blinking away tears and grey senses, she shrieked at the stranger not too far off. "You!" Plodding unsteadily across the forum, Fortune tried to make her way towards the offending individual. "What the—" her voice hitched, raw from the numb talons, "what the fuck was that?!"

@Othello

It worked! A wicked grin spread across his maw as spores flew from his lungs and towards the duiker from behind. It took her by surprise too it seemed as she started violently shouting and shrieking the same word over and over while she suffered through some hallucination. Othello was amused, watching the game he created with enjoyment and a bit of quiet laughter.

Unaware of her magick use, the duiker suddenly spun around and focused on him, yelling obscenities at him and advancing rather quickly and angrily. Othello snarled, his lips curling up around his long maw and exposing canid teeth, sharp and pointy despite his omnivorous tastebuds. He took a few quick steps towards her, snapping at her wildly though actually being careful to not bite her... yet. "Lunch! Food, eat - hungry!" He roared inside his mind, feeding into hers, his stomach rumbling for added effect, egging him on even further.

@fortune

wow fortune you the real mvp

The stranger, revealing himself to be much larger than she had previously thought, slunk from the ruined buildings, baring viciously sharp teeth and snapping eagerly. In youth, the duiker may have been intimidated. But she had seen far larger mutts than this (oh, how she missed seeing Kerberos) and would not falter. Not even as—what she assumed to be the stranger's—a voice pervaded her still-slack mind, echoing. Straightening in the face of danger, her stone sputtered to life, only to refuse to function and leave her absolutely stranded. "I will not fall at your hand." Keeping her 'large' stance, the duiker eased back a few steps, dark eyes fixated fiercely upon the stranger. Stalling for magicka. Holding out for that lucky shot.

@Othello