@Auré
cw for dissociation

damask(?) wanted to drown. the details were blurred away, her control of the spell too new too weak to catch every nuance; she could've kept her distance, fought to restrain herself to analytic detachment; but instead she immersed herself in foreign emotions impulses sensations, reveling in them to blot out her own. faintly nerve and synapse tugged at her toes, wings, head — and she barely (don't do it don't give it away) held them still.

his words (mine?) seemed to swim in her throat — too indistinct for her to make out, though somehow she felt she could've parroted them if only she'd let it happen — and she got the spirit of them regardless in the accompanying swell of remorse. an otherworldly loop of rope tightened at her neck then yanked hard (go to me go to me) and before she could stop herself, she took a half-step forward, a perfect replica in time with his. one foot hung suspended just above the floor, hovered a moment; and then she set it down — a full pace ahead. another. another. one two three. gentle. deliberate. an invitation for auré — no, herself — no, himself — no no (not that far pull back pull back) her father to eat up the distance.

"dad ..." and she smiled: the extent of it earnest and reassuring — hazy half-lidded faraway eyes, too soft too sad too open to be hers —

and she burst out coughing. it was only a few brief wheezing barks tucked quickly into her wing, a slight bite in her chest, a warning yes that's what it was; and the break was far from invisible, a glitch in the system bolting ragged across her face. battery low. but not critically so. damask sucked in a lungful of oxygen (i'm not ready yet let me back in) and gave the spell a push.

it flickered back to life — the whole malfunction over in an instant. (we're up and running.) but she had to be careful now. she had a choice between a tenuous connection and an overpowering one, and ravenous as she was, she acquiesced to the former.

slowly she lifted her head to face her father, that foggy smile blinking on and off, and said at fifteen frames per second: "c-co-come here."

Half-step - right at the same time as his; it may as well have been arms opening wide for a hug. Aure tempted another stride ahead, only to pause with lifted wings at her coughing fit. He foolishly thought nothing of it but the tension's sudden breakage - this confrontation melting altogether too quickly and her hiding that awkwardness in a cough turned to many.

Before he could hurry forth and do what he could to help, Damask'd seemingly managed it, and stared distantly.

His wings spurred out to keep him balanced as he trotted forwards (not at all restraining himself. Why should I?) Stopping a foot and then some short, the wyvern rumbled softly, keeping a wing open but otherwise... staying where he was. Leave her to cross that final threshold, if she wanted.

All the while, a muted sort of sound echoed from his throat, mired somewhat in a sob, "I missed you." That quiet, carefully unobtrusive presence of hers had left a gaping hole in Canis when she fled. There'd been assurance in knowing that she was, at least, around. Aure swallowed, and whispered again, "I missed you."

@Damask

@Auré
cw for ongoing dissociation

this time, she heard what he said — which wasn't to say she didn't feel it, too. "i missed you." a hollow pit hungered in her gut, the kind no meal could fill. again, "i missed you," and that was all damask needed to close the last of what stood between them.

one small, stiff step turned quickly into many as she sputtered up to him and stuffed herself into the thick plumage at his front. the fledgling strained as tall as she could, wing-claws grasping blindly, face buried and burrowing as deep as it would go. "i missed you, too," she rasped hotly into his feathers. i did. i really did. her features crumpled tight with gritted teeth and eyes squeezed shut, but — no tears, not the faintest glaze of moisture, only a phantom trace of dry weight in her throat. a moment passed there as the humid warmth of carbon dioxide built up around her nose.

and then damask's time was up.

crash and comedown, electricity lancing down her spine, solid black slashing over her vision — and when the camera came to, it floated far behind and above its prior operator. could've been through the glassy fisheye of the songbird she'd killed, even. through that severed lens, she watched her own legs jerk from frame to frame as she seized away and stumbled back. one moment, inches separated her from the black-and-orange shape opposite — the next, feet. the motion seemed to rewind minutely and fast-forward back, zooming in and out of focus, twisting dizzily back and forth. air rattled out loud in the faraway figure's ribs. she looked about ready to collapse. didn't, though. impressive.

close on those eyes, cold silver around pinprick apertures that jittered in place. the shutters clicked over and over in shock, then ceased altogether, the rest of the expression locked into perfect, near-blank composure. a knot coursed from mouth to chest, briefly stifling — whatever sort of trouble seemed to be happening therein. she got the impression this wasn't the first time, nor the worst.

"i need you to be honest with me," said a voice, level and even, as monochrome in delivery as it was in its casing. cough cough, "is," cough cough, "there," cough cough cough, "anything else you haven't told me?" wheeze. wheeze. wheeze. wheeze. "past? present? future?"

she thought she heard a slight emphasis on that last word. strange.

A weight - so impossibly light and warm - rushed against his, and he took a half-step back to compensate for his balance, wings flaring out to ensconce his little darling. Aure reveled in it, half-squatting so she didn't have to strain so much - a bit like a father returning from a long few months on assignment, taking a knee to better receive his daughter who'd grown up so much even in that time. The moment could've lasted forever if not for the sudden break. His feathers moved away with practiced ease, drawing back to grant Damask all the air around her again.

But, she kept moving back - and back - and back - until feet stood between them and she swayed minutely on the spot, breath faintly audible from even there; Aure fretted for a moment that he'd done something wrong, spurred another panic. His dar - no, no - she's not mine. Not mine to keep. A regretful conclusion, but perhaps a necessary one. Darling looked distant, not entirely there until she blinked, stared.

Ground Control to Major Damask, you've really made the grade.

Another coughing fit, racking her form, breaking up her sentences over and over. The hybrid crossed the distance in a few great strides, head lowering, "hey, hey - give yourself a moment to breathe -" (ah, she would be if I'd answer he realized, and it rose like dawn across his face) "let me - think."

Pause, a long silence that he shattered once with an awkward "I've made a lot of mistakes in the past few months."

But, it was less about the mistakes - and more of the state of the caves, the concerns lying deep in his heart, that quiet nagging responsible for magical flares and eminence and smears of white across his vision even as he looked at nothing in particular. Looking for nodes, networks, clouded figures in the distance, moving dead-ahead and without restraint. Aure'd hesitated for long enough.

Canis and Orion were safe, far as he knew - and Damask was old enough to handle herself and pursue the exploration of other caves whenever the calling came. But, he did not know for the rest of the caves. Those few cleansed had passed along locations of other Hives, and he was under the assumption that Astraea'd gone to banish them, but -

Now or never.

"I've told you before that the Caves are sometimes dangerous; full of unknowns. Some of those, you should leave - well... unknown," he shifted on either foot, a crawling sensation clotting his throat for a moment, "Eythan and I - made? - you before one of the Masters came. We'd been defending someone he charged us with, an assassin came - and put him into a chrysalis. Eythan chased down the assassin and we found - it's a kind of fungus that... calls itself Mother. I was nearly taken by it, if not for mom - your grandma. It takes over your mind. We've gone and destroyed the biggest - growth of it, and Astraea - the Master - has gone around and destroyed others, but..."

A sigh whistled out. "I need you to be careful of white fungus - it smells rotten, awful, and so does anyone that carries it. If you - see or find anyone like that or find something, come find me and Astraea or I'll take care of it." Bright eyes looked in earnest, and all he was asking for was a simple nod.

No words needed.

@Damask

@Auré
more dissociation! very nice enjoy

"a moment to breathe," said the larger of the birds, and "let me — think," advancing on the smaller. she didn't seem to respond to either his dialogue or his action, animated only by the ragged respirator-hiss of her rising-falling chest. now that she'd finished speaking, her breathing was starting to improve — her claws, to clasp the floor more firmly; her axis, to swing into equilibrium. a soft wheeze quivered out at widening intervals.

"i've made a lot of mistakes in the past few months."

an expository montage played out in damask's sights: dark crevices grinning toothless between stones; crystals around a damaged body; white spores in the skull of the one who told of them; myriad souls bearing mold in their mouths. the voiceover ended with a request. "if you — see or find anyone like that or find something, come find me or astraea and i'll take care of it."

no nod came, nor any other indication that the black-and-white fledgling had heard. completely catatonic. sort of unnerving, but damask couldn't blame her for being overwhelmed; it was a lot to take in. even she couldn't fully register it through the way the words shuddered and glitched — but with a memory like hers, it was all a recording. she'd correct the flaws and play it back later. in the meantime, she sat back and waited. something would be happening any second now. any ... second ... now.

all right. there was definitely a problem.

damask's worry was approaching secondhand embarrassment. those last inquiring lines had been — scripted, she realized, prepared before the scene even began. responding to this latest development off the cuff was proving a challenge. how was this character meant to be feeling that she wasn't showing? what comments and questions would she have? damask ventured from her vantage and swum through zero gravity. something like why didn't you tell me? or what other dangers are there? made the most sense, she decided.

but when she reached for the young heroine's mind, she found one vignette running on loop: a wyvern, a gryphon, and the pact of jasper that they made. another shiver of lightning came with the image. oh ... she clutched as if at slippery prey, fumbling and failing to step back in, the skin a shaking wall about to give way. that voice echoed quietly beneath her, much closer now, almost her own —

"why did you — make me?"

Breathe, and she did, gaze growing distant again, body still. Nod forgone, and all other motions - Aure knit his brow in faint concern. The hatchling still hadn't moved, made a single gesture of knowing. Worry dug its hooked teeth into his gem, a faraway thrum of magicka awaiting release - not yet, he told it, mentally raising his hands to placate it. Damask's mind was hers and hers only. He wouldn't invade, not hers - and likely never another's.

He could only hope that she had been listening; perhaps she had been, from the outset. It was a lot to take in, so soon after the cathartic release of finally knowing. I should slow down, Aure noted of himself, and he turned slightly, pivoting towards the smooth-faced rock once more.

This time, an image flickered to life - a little weak in the light (perhaps his magic was jealous that it wasn't being put to the subconscious purposes he desired) but there nonetheless. It was a scene of Polaris, wholly imagined and not perfectly accurate. A silhouette moved into view, obscured in black shadows that trailed after, but clearly the distinct one of someone familiar. Clutched in those talons, unable to be hidden by dark influence, was a dull jasper - the very same one he and Damask shared parts of.

"When - the last King fell, his stone was hidden away from here for cycles."

The figure's head twisted around as it laid the stone in a crevice high-up, covered it.

"It may as well have been lost for as long as... Eythan had it. Your grandmother demanded its return, and she made me as the Bone King. Our stone was lost, but it was safe, intact."

The scene shifted abruptly, to rolling dunes meters high and sheer walls of sandstone - also completely imagined.

"Past that tunnel in Canis is Hydra. In there - in there, there's great danger. The Masters have sent a number of Gembound into there, and those who do not survive are destroyed without a trace. One of our own was lost to it. Our first cairn after Aza'zel."

A brief flash of a great seabird's wingspan, feathers ruffling around a voiceless beak. He looked like he was laughing, enjoying himself. Aure faltered at the sight and dismissed it for another scene of the old King's bones, Eythan and himself standing before it.

"I worried about our failure in protecting the one Astraea'd assigned us. He was in a chrysalis and safe, but still - if we failed, we were to send some into Hydra. I planned to go, and I did not know if I would survive. I didn't want your grandmother and the rest of the Bonebound to lose this stone again, not be able to leave something to remember. So - we made you. Part of my stone, and part of Aza'zel's magic."

Together at last - and how wonderful was she?

Finally, the image faded, going up in motes of light and fading like cinders. Gone.

@Damask

@Auré
dissociation end

she was close, so close, to breaking this barrier and bridging this disconnect. invisible talons strained at the shoulders of her body below, and the feathers there bristled, fast-twitch muscle shivering as if at half-sent signals. she couldn't get in, but at least she could think. you're not moving, you just barely spoke after too long a pause, he's got to be getting suspicious — and look at you, you don't want to anymore, do you? frustration might've made her teeth grind, had she the control. reach. reach. reach. you're almost there —

but then auré pointed his magic at the stony stage once more; and this time, his aim was true. moving pictures appeared before her, not imagined this time, but manifestly alive. the interruption stole her attention away at once. her father's lights shone in her eyes, even granted them a hint of the color they lacked. he narrated the convolutions of his answer as they played out, and damask could only watch and listen adjacent herself: spellbound. but his words told of nothing but death, his illustrations a sandstone graveyard, the laughing face of a long-gone friend ... aza'zel's bones. and another skeleton waited in the wings. carefully unspoken, but it loomed all the same. she couldn't not think of it. every loss orbited around that nucleus. her own creation did.

it wasn't the story she wanted to hear. elemental tension, then fear, then creeping panic built with every image. it further distanced her, made her recoil at the thought of coming back to herself, of facing mortal inevitability — hers, his, every soul's.

but isn't this another kind of death? are you living, coward? are you breathing?

it was time she clawed her way back in.

my name is damask vita; i am two cycles and ten days old; i live with my father in the central chambers of canis; i am standing opposite him in orion, we are fifty-nine inches apart, the stone is cold beneath my feet, he has just told me why i was conceived, and ... he needs me to talk to him.

the ghost of her stepped into its body with a gasp — an agonal respiration in reverse. it prodded at the lingering pain in her chest, and she embraced it, anchored herself to it. contracted pupils swelled up to size, flickering over auré's face, his frame; her claws flexed and relaxed, her feathers ruffled and smoothed, and her jaws minutely opened and closed, as if to ensure that all her parts could still move. how long had it been since he'd finished? speak.

"in case you ..." her voice went dry as it trailed away into nothing, that final word unsaid; and she struggled to continue, grasping unwillingly for more. she had to be frank. she didn't want to. she had to. "i was to be a memento, a legacy — and a safeguard." dawn broke like glass over her face as she dropped her gaze to the space between them. steeling herself, borrowing his phrasing as if it would soften the blow she dealt, she concluded her reasoning with one final question.

"the last king fell; you became the next. if you fell, what would that make me?"

Pause.

It was unbearable, same as before - laced with an abhorrent mix of Should I have omitted details? Left out the unsavory parts? The wreckage I made in her conception? and This is necessary - this honesty. Opening the wounds so they can close proper and let out whatever festers inside - The stream of consciousness darting to and fro in his head was oddly poetic, in the way it flip-flopped between what he'd internalized and the new ideology he was trying to brute-force into the norm.

Damask's voice broke him free from that odd maelstrom, gaze twisting away from the long-dark stone and settling beneath a knit brow and tongue worrying at his beak. She was, initially, meant to be what was left behind; but Aure knew now that - if it were up to only himself - that he would never leave her. That glancing blow hurt, nonetheless, and a hot-blooded shame ran through him.

"You're much more than that," he admitted softly in the break between words, "so much more than spur-of-the-moment."

"The last King fell; you became the next. If you fell, what would that make me?"

This, at least, he immediately had an answer for - "it'd make you whatever you wanted to be, Damask. The King, next of kin if you want to - explorer, investigator, magician, simply remain as Bonebound or go elsewhere, even, if you want to. But, regardless of that... I'm not going anywhere soon - darling." The last word was spoken in a hushed, reverent whisper. "There won't be another fallen King."

@Damask

@Auré

"you're so much more than that," auré told her, "so much more than spur-of-the-moment" — but ... that wasn't what she'd said. damask flinched slightly, keeping her eyes where they were. she'd accused her conception of being functional, not impulsive or accidental. he'd filled that blank himself. what did that say? but he means it, she knew; even if that's all i was once, i'm — more than that now. to him. and that kept her strong, even as she said what hurt the most.

his response was immediate: "it'd make you whatever you wanted to be, damask." and what is that, exactly? she restrained another cringe. what will you be? what are you now? listen. "the king, next of kin if you want to ..." — the ... th-th-the king? me — ? shiver shiver, down her spine; don't read into that too much, shut up and pay attention, he's not done — "... explorer, investigator, magician ..."

he named a series of trades, each more appealing than the last. she could have been anything, he said: taken her pick and made it hers. but damask couldn't give up on that word, the highest title of all; kept lingering on it, turning it over in her claws. king. that was what she wanted. but she did not want to rise from her father's fall. she scuffed at the floor as he finished, as if to kick an imaginary stone. shakily her gaze rose at last to his, pale on bright. quietly: "that's very hopeful." aza'zel had succumbed to the end, and his son could too. auré had all but volunteered to risk his life — might have lost it, had his luck swung to the opposite pole. it wasn't in his power to stop it. nor hers.

but you cannot linger on this. especially not now.

she couldn't know that he was right. but she wanted to believe it.

the young accipiter looked wearily over her shoulder, at the dead blue songbird smeared across the steps. she was responsible for that cadaver. her. she closed her eyes. "let's go home, dad."

Funny how the last trade on that list was the simple magician, an illusionist skilled in misdirection and hiding things in plain sight; and funny how it was apparently the most appealing. Aure couldn't have picked up on that train of thought if he tried.

Only on that quiet hope of never meeting an end, finding himself joining the old King's cairn up yonder. Miserable as these past few months were, he was coming out better for it - and he was strong. Anything the Caves threw at him would have to outlast his magic and his sheer will to survive for his family, live to see them another day. It was cliche, but nothing was stronger than his love.

Damask turned away, eyes closing for that precious moment of quiet (strange how his worrying and fussing thoughts seemed to silence themselves for that!) and calling softly for them to go - home.

A warm smile accompanied his parroted "let's go home." He'd let her decide whether or not they walked or flew the way; he'd be by her side regardless, heart warm and so so full.

exit aure?
@Damask