"I think we'd all be skilled at magic," he offered mildly, "but, it's a matter of using it - and not without control." Opal came to mind, his impulsive decision leading to an injury that drove him comatose, reliant on the Bonebound. Aure nodded at Kerberos's mention, "he can teach that - if he wants." The big oaf would probably be alright with that.

"Pride would appreciate the practice too, I think -" Aure mused, stopping short in front of the cairn, ears pricking. Worry sat in the dip of his brow, smoothing of his feathers. He shifted to face his mother, claws tapping a few times as he searched - for something. For what, he wasn't sure.

Magicka flickered from his crest, a phosphorescent wisp blinking into existence. It sat between them for a moment, before dancing around Giggle. "Mom," he chirped softly, "are you - okay with this?" As for what this referred to - he'd leave it up to his mother.

@Giggle

The question had her shoulders sagging.

The chrysalis wasn't in sight, yet*, and the necessity of an honest answer crumbled down those tentative walls she'd been so carefully building over the last few minutes.

She sighed, softly, and looked to Aure; but there was relief, release, in answering truthfully. "I don't need to be all right with it--let's get that clear, kiddo," she answered, amused; and then, more seriously, "I just wish you'd spoken to me first." It was quietly-said, and there was nothing venomous in it; it was a simple answer and a very honest one. And then, an honest follow-up: "I'll get over it, Aure. It's just a bit of a shock."

A pause, staring out at the cairn. Thinking.

"There should be some kind of ritual. A first reading, you know? For a kid, before they're hatched." Absent, thoughtful; but she glanced almost fondly, then, at the wisp that orbitted close by.

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* (I think, navy didn't clarify lmk so I can edit this post)
@Aure

"I don't need to be all right with it -" Aure seemed to deflate, an unsaid I want you to be in his posture for just a moment. This was something that'd affect her, and he... wanted her to - what? Love the child? Of course she will. His uncertainties, despite his best efforts, were on display.

But, Giggle assured him. The wisp continued to dance around, illuminating the trail with its fond little light. "I'm sorry," he offered in earnest, even if it might've been his four-hundredth one so far and he should've run out of apologies a long time ago, "you don't have to - to get over it. I understand."

A sigh whistled out of his beak, and he trudged forwards.

"That'd be nice - a bone reading, yeah," Aure chirped softly as he drew up to the chrysalis in the crook of Aza'zel's wing. It hadn't grown much larger - or at all, but he wasn't sure. The petal-like whorls of jasper were intact yet, and seemed to thrum with an aliveness that may very well have been in his head. His gaze softened, unadulterated love in it as he traced the chrysalis's figure.

He might not know how good of a father he'd be, but he already had the unconditional love box checked.

The wyvern stepped aside, so that Giggle could get close, too. As he did, he whispered (like he'd wake up the neonate inside,) "I hope I'm good for them." Not enough, but simply good.

* yea that's fine
@Giggle

Giggle offered Aure a brief, darkly-amused look.

"Maybe not, but I will." 'Get over it,' that was. "I know you, Aure, you didn't decide 'hey, let's leave Mom out of this.' It was spur of the moment. I get it. You didn't mean anything nasty, I know you didn't and you don't need to worry that I think that. You're a good son." Firmly-stated. Though... some of his insecurities were showing, weren't they-? On the one hand, it was good that he cared about the feelings of others. On the other, she didn't want him second-guessing himself all the time. And it wasn't just because "mother knows best, he can't be that way;" it was because she'd seen that stress, that worry, consume his father. Consume Aza'zel. "Don't ever feel bad if you didn't do something wrong," she offered, at last, before approaching the chrysalis.

She reached her magic out, a tentative brush, a sense, as she stepped up close to it. And there, she paused, sudden realization rushing over her with the influx of the knowledge that this magic imparted.

"It has Aza'zel's magic," she said, slowly, as it dawned on her. She could sense it in the stone--the first time she'd ever felt that--a low, throbbing power like a storm to be unleashed. "It's alive. And it's got his stone, too." She paused, musing. If Aure was half-Aza'zel, and Eythan was half-Aza'zel, did that make this child... what, also half? Three-quarters? The old hyena couldn't puzzle it out and anyway, she knew that inheritance was an odd thing. But both parents were shades of creams and browns, feathered, with Aza'zel's beak. Most likely, she knew, so would the child be.

Would it look just like him..? Would it have his stone, his magic, and his voice? What if it was a girl--a daughter-Aza'zel?

Giggle slowly sat down, staring at the stone, imagining a... reimagining, really, of her old friend. "It'll have a lot of him in it," she said, at last, quietly--and for a moment, she was lost in her own thoughts, and memories.

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@Aure

Aure just gave a weak smile in response to all of that - and, for good measure, a nod. He could believe that for himself, know that some things were out of his control.

His mother walked up to the chrysalis, voice soft, slow. She echoed her senses to him, and the wyvern thought for a moment huh. Stone and magic, back as one. Aure wasn't as hopeful about the result being exactly like Aza'zel, but it was a nice thing to think about; perhaps that old jasper would be happy to see its magic again. The wyvern wondered more about who would come out of there, what they'd be like, what they would like, how they'd explore the world at large.

Maybe he cared a little bit about appearances (he was hoping for a winged child he should share the skies with) but ultimately, his love would be the same.

That much, he knew.

Aure came up to his mother, leaning against her with a gentle exhale. His beak opened to say something, but the snug silence won out.

He stayed quiet for a while, then moved off slightly, "seems right that we... ask him about this little one's future." His head turned to regard Giggle, a slight nod of it with an unspoken whenever you go, I will.

@Giggle

Where her son's thoughts went, hers could not.

"What will it be like" opened the door to memories she didn't want to imagine. 'Would the child be happy' brought back memories of smiles Aure had never really known. Likes, dislikes-... They'd always be compared to another now gone. She'd take the kid as they came; that wasn't even on the table. But it was healthy. There was magic, in this stone, and that was enough for her.

Giggle felt... weary. She had every intention of finding Eythan, at some point--to listen in on his thoughts. But her suspicions, her worries, the ragged frantic wondering of the last few chaotic moments, had left her mind rather wandering.

Some old wounds, it seemed, would never truly heal.

She exhaled.

"I'll ask," was all she said, and turned back toward the bone pit, too lost in her own mind to even glance at her son.

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@Aure

Giggle went, and Aure tailed after her as expected. He merely glanced at his wisp and the little thing bobbed at being recognized (as part of subconscious command). It strung ahead of them, dancing all along the path back within a few feet of them.

A thought, a flush of magicka, and a small glowing medallion joined the swamp light - almost like a tiny sun. It followed his line of sight, hanging at his mother's shoulder height but ambling along the edge of the trail, bouncing like it was taking steps in the air.

They came to the bone pit, and both lights settled in their motions; Aure's wisp settled at above tip of the overlook like a candlelight, and the glimmering orb somewhere at the edge. He himself sat by the edge, and waited in silence.

@Giggle

She led the way to the bone pit, the rhythm of her slow, steady plod interrupted only by her turning, peering, her expression relaxing into something a little more warm, at the sight of the light.

Her son, even in his silence, was a kind creature.

"Those are good lights. You're getting good, with your magic," she told him, tone approving and grateful all at once. She turned back, then, and paced to the pit's edge, and considered.

"You know, I don't think I ever did a reading for you, before you hatched?" Giggle pondered for a moment, but no memories swam up from the admittedly murky depths of her mind. "I mean it--we should create a new tradition, here and now, with this one. What should we call it, do you think-? Just... 'the First Throw?' It sounds--simple," she added, and then laughed, raucous and hoarse.

"What should I ask, do you think?" she then added, wading chest-deep into the pit, into where Aza'zel's keel lay from the last time she'd recently cast it. She paused to look back, then, humorously. "Pick the question carefully, it's about to become a ritual."

No pressure or anything, Aure.

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@Aure

Aure's crest puffed in that bashful way of his, eyes flashing away for a second, "thanks. I've been practicing." He chuckled softly, shoving his chest feathers out in a playfully prideful manner, "have to keep up my winning streak at the Olympics." In the same breath, his lights grew a little brighter, bobbing eagerly in place. All for show, even if notoriety was never something he sought in life.

He was a humble little Bone King.

The hybrid flicked his ears - "I don't think I ever did a reading for you, before you hatched?" - and watched as Giggle shouldered through the bones, calling for a new tradition? He nodded, and she offered him the chance to spit some profound arrangement of words for the sake of making it ritualistic, organized.

Rocking up to his feet again, padding along the edge of the pit, Aure hummed in thought. Nothing surfaced easily, ideas slipping from between his claws. He started to think aloud: "the First Throw sounds good - yeah, yeah... that works. 'Bones, what do you see in the future of my child?' That sounds too - hm. What if they don't want to call it theirs, no, what if they... have adopted this child or brought them to the Bonebound - 'What do you see for this one?'"

His voice trailed into some amount of mutterings before he settled, looking to his mother with an air of finality, "Bones, what is in store for this one?"

He looked to Giggle for approval, as always.

@Giggle

Giggle offered something like a grin, from where she stood, half-surrounded by the bones of the dead.

"A good question, though you've gotta be dramatic with it. You know," she added, and then stood a little more upright, trying to send out one of those spooky, magic-infused cackles she'd so come to love. It came, if not quite as dramatic as she'd hoped. And then, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice: "OH, BONES, WE GATHER HERE FOR THE FIRST READING OF A CHILD-..."

And then, another smirk and good-natured laughter before she actually turned back to the keel, more serious now.

"It's a good question, though. Bones, then: this child, who has yet to hatch; whose stone lies now guarded by Aza'zel's remains--Bones, what is in store for this one?"

Dutifully-repeated. She picked up the keel, and trotted up to her ledge, and repeated the question again, in a murmur: focused, now, on the bone pit below.

And then she sent it tumbling.

The way it fell, at first, was alarming--and then, profoundly relieving. She was startled, in fact, at the omens here, at how harmoniously an initial discordance in the impact resolved itself into neat patterns, and she huffed in amused, pleased surprise.

She lifted dark eyes to Aure, and spoke.

"This child will inherit a problem. Be it physical--or not; be it from the parents, a fear perhaps--maybe Aza'zel's, and the one his line shares--or something that happens before it hatches. But it can be worked through. Beyond that the bones fall with good, harmless order. I see joy for this child, and a sense of community. It will contribute, I think, to the Bonebound. And beyond that, in turn!--I see rich rewards. It gives, and is given back. This is good. These are good omens."

She paused, then, realizing that this ceremony should have some sort of close, and winked at Aure before adding: "For this child, the bones have spoken.

And she turned, to come back down to her son.

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@Aure