Being young had its advantages. Mainly, distasteful memories were hastily shoved aside in favor of the present. Or maybe that only held true for him. The iguana had no one else to compare to his short existence to, but he found himself tending to whatever random urge that made its presence known without a second thought.

Run down that wall here. Look at the pretty pools there. Find something he wanted to eat? That was a work in progress. His stomach didn't seem to care that he was busy trying to help it though, grumbling every few minutes while he frantically crawled about.

Fish circled within the pond he was currently examining. As they swam, their motions disturbed its surface, causing a multitude of glinting ripples. Interesting to watch, but decidedly not what he considered to be edible. How aggravating.

Upon further consideration of his problem, a solution leapt to mind. Hadn't something happened before when he'd been stuck high above the ground? Warmth had replaced cold when he had needed it most. Surely, if he could summon heat, then food would be no issue at all.

Willing to give anything a try, he shut his eyes, issuing a demand of himself or whatever had come to his aid. In response, an indefinable sensation bloomed from the center of his tongue, similar to the previous time.

Give him food. Now.

The anticipation was excruciating as he waited, nearly shaking where he stood, but it eventually fizzled out alongside the odd feeling on his tongue. Nothing. Disappointment followed and quickly flared up into annoyance. He added his own ripples to the pond, slamming a foot down on it to vent his frustration.

Back to the beginning. What else?

After he'd lashed out, the fish closest to the disturbance scattered in multiple directions. Irritation still sparking over him, their attacker leaned his face in close to the pond to observe their fleeing. Fury slowly gave way to curiosity, as was common for those his age. He breathed in deep, then exhaled.

Where he blew, more ripples spread over the surface and expanded outward. These were gentler than the ones before, unsurprisingly the result of a less violent action. He did not make this connection though, only marveling at how much effect he had upon such a small world. In its eagerness, his quick mind had already tossed away his similarly sized beginnings from immediate recollection.

To these finned creatures, he must have been a giant. A giddy sort of pride rose within him at the thought. And with that, his ideas took an even more childish turn.

Could he make whatever these things were obey him? Maybe they knew where the food was and would show him if he intimidated them with a show of force.

This was how the pond once again came under assault of an iguana foot. Its impact, much stronger than the one previous, caused a mighty splash. He then lingered over the site, his gaze intent, waiting for the waters to calm.

There were less fish in the area than before. Presumably most had fled far to the other side of the pond or hidden themselves beneath rocks. However, knowing little about fish, he believed something else entirely: with a single slap, he'd laid waste to their numbers. Such power made him uncertain whether to be frightened or impressed by it.

Nevertheless, some fish were still present. Stragglers or, as he considered them, survivors of a devastating strike. These he tried to fix with his best attempt at a glare, hoping that through it he could convey exactly what he wanted from them.

Of course, that did nothing. These fish weren't telepaths.

Unable to express his feelings in words he did not know, a strangled noise built up in his throat.

For a moment, he contemplated giving into his distress. Forget the food. Instead he'd scream and splash around until every uncooperative thing with fins fled entirely from his wrath. He would have done so, but reality intervened—not one to be dismissed so easily, his stomach rumbled its impatience. Regardless of his feelings, it'd be stupid of him to give up and consequently starve.

What could he possibly be doing wrong? Was he not firm enough in his demands?

Despite his latest attempt's failure, he dipped his head down to the pond again. This time he hovered a set of claws over the surface as well; perhaps threat of additional harm would make these little creatures appease him.

Like the original, the revised tactic proved useless. Seconds passed until they stretched to a full minute. Oblivious to the looming shadow above them, the fish began to reemerge and congregate, unconcerned by the possibility of an impending attack. Then it was three minutes. Still nothing.

Faced with another dud of a plan, he finally tired of embracing whatever reason he had. Hunger and desperation seized total control. Eyes settled upon one of the fish, catching the glimmer of its scales in the water. He snapped.

And was promptly shaken to his senses. As soon as tongue met fish, he immediately withdrew, spluttering. Completely repulsive. Maybe they didn't all taste like that, but he had no desire to find out if that was the case.

But while his snout had been submerged, something else had drifted across his taste buds. Although the fish had left a terrible impression, whatever this was had been the exact opposite. He needed to explore further.

Without hesitation, he plunged his head back in. Mouth ajar, cold—sharp and numbing—flooded over his tongue. It mattered little though; so long as his dulled senses could still seek out his needs, he'd manage. Ignoring the gradual stiffening of muscles by the water's icy touch, shoulders and torso eased in as well. Any onlookers, unless close enough to see the upper half immersed in the pond, would likely only see a whiplike tail attached to scrabbling hind legs.

Claws hooked into rock. Now anchored, he focused on a smell or a taste, something appetizing like what he'd briefly experienced. There was something... underneath him?

He leaned forward and stared incredulously at his feet. Nothing was really there. Just the rocks, smudged with green.

To say "the massive bat-silhouette crept silently along the ceiling" might've been a haunting phrase, particularly when the iguana below was half underwater, oblivious to what lay overhead. The more realistic description, though, would be "the actually medium-sized blind feathered bat-hybrid scrabbled across the ceiling, swearing quietly."

He paused when sensitive bat-ears picked up the splashing down below. Unaware of the marine iguana's attempts to psychically catch fish, he instead turned a little, ridged scorpion tail curled down but his wings and feet clinging tightly to a lower part of the ceiling. He'd wanted to try to catch a few fish, as he did from time to time here in Pisces, but if that was Ruby-Beta or one of those jerks down there, he couldn't risk getting maybe-eaten. But after a moment of waiting (after which he grew impatient) he found he didn't recognize anything about the splashing. Which was to say, he didn't hear any familiar voices down there.

"HEY! WHO'S DOWN THERE? -ARE YOU GONNA EAT ME?" he called down. He had no real way of knowing if it was something small, splashing in the water, or some small part of a very, very large thing. As an afterthought, he tried to sense what was there, with magic.

A moment later he got it: something small... ish, at least, probably not big enough to eat him. Unless it were poisonous, or something, but so was he. "I'M GONNA COME DOWN. BUT I'M BLIND. DON'T EAT ME, OKAY?" he shouted.

Imp was unaware if Fahl's head were still underwater--if the stranger could even hear him. But he was more hungry that trouble-makery at the moment; he was thinking maybe he could somehow befriend this other... person, and maybe get some free food in the bargain.

Mostly the free food, really.

@Fahl

Could he eat rocks? The thought seemed impossible. Expertise wasn't required to predict that those with rougher edges would shred their way down his throat. Potential weight didn't promise they'd settle well in his stomach either. Even ignoring the previous concerns, they simply weren't appealing.

And were rocks supposed to look that color? Still so fresh out of the chrysalis, he possessed limited examples of them, but a tug in his gut indicated he had missed a crucial point. So he continued to hold his stare. Dwelling upon the discomforting blank spot did no favors for him, causing a dull throb to gradually push into his skull.

Throwing a massive water-splashing tantrum had begun to appear tempting again when a jumble of noises filtered down to him, muffled to faint whispers. A welcome distraction to his boiling brain, he strained for any snippets he could catch.

Language was not his strong suit, as it was with any other subject unfamiliar to him. But rhythm was instinctual enough to understand that the pausing he heard must have been deliberate.

"who's... there... gonna... me?"

Odd, but he hesitated at fully reemerging on land. Not long ago, he'd thought himself as a powerful being to the pond's tiny fish. What if the one making the sounds was the giant—gianter?—to his giant. Would they jump and splash and smack with the same tyrannical rage, but against him?

More noises.

"gon... down... but... blind... don't... eat... kay?"

No, he shouldn't be stupid. There couldn't be anything bigger or tougher than him. Right? He'd entertain his curiosity for now.

With that conclusion, the iguana hauled himself up and away from the pond. Once his head had finally broken past the surface, he dipped slightly forward to allow the water to drain from his mouth. Then came the tricky part; he hazarded partaking in a bit of mimicry.

"Th..." If he'd known what cursing was, a stream of it would have been flowing through his mind. His tongue felt stubbornly weighed down and took a significant amount of might to lift in order to reproduce the sound. He persisted though. "...ere."

Unsatisfied, he tried another. "Eeeat."

He despised its imperfection, but for some reason this one resonated with him. "Eeat?"

Not much better. However, instead of being entirely monotone this time, it was accompanied by a slight upward inflection.

@Imp

If Imp hadn't been blind, maybe he'd have scrutinized poor Fahl and come to the realization that this was just a kid. A new hatchling, confused at language.

It was like being in a dark house, and suddenly hearing the brief, halting speech of a toddler: adorable if you had a kid, terrifying if that house was meant to be empty. Of course, knowing nothing about toddlers or houses, Imp could not create this metaphor himself; he only knew a sudden spike of freezing fear.

He double-checked that magic sense before it fully faded: definitely a living shape, definitely not as large as he was, definitely (probably) not some form of terrifying monster. He hesitated, but hunger gnawed at him, and he called down again. "Don't eat me!" just in case.

He dropped from the ceiling, then, wings spreading, body curling upside-down in an instant so that he went from belly-up to belly-down, gliding neatly downward. Imp could not see, of course, making navigation difficult, and his descent was uneven and uncertain, dropping him too-heavily at the water's edge some twenty yards from Fahl. He landed half-in, half-out, with a pained grunt and a splash, and the thwack of body on rock.

He swore--loudly--and then shook himself a little with a blink. He wasn't all that large, himself--maybe big dog size, in weight, though long with his strange scorpion-tipped tail--and he looked a messy amalgamation of confused features. As soon as he landed, he looked around, ears flicking to try and find Fahl's location (and failing at that)--to make sure Imp hadn't landed too close to what might be some sort of terrifying little predator. "Okay where are you?! Don't bite me or I'll sting you. And draw pictures of you everywhere. -Where are you?" he repeated. Then his brain put the whole 'eat' thing and the splashing together--what if this stranger was doing what he'd planned to? Just looking for food, in the water? "-Are you fishing?" he asked, after a moment, hopeful.

@Fahl

Considering his exaggerated and slow mangling of the sounds he'd heard underwater, mortification warred with relief when he heard a string of similar noises cast down in response. There truly was another here, not a delusion born from growing hunger. Incapable of dancing for joy, he instead bobbed his head up and down.

Any attempt to peer at the cave ceiling as he did this was somewhat hampered by the limitations of a body designed for crawling close to the ground. A neck could only crane so far back, after all. Fortunately, the stranger removed that difficulty himself. In an instant, he glimpsed a large form, brown and a sort of long tail extending out from it. Then the impact. Though somewhat distant, the vibrations coursed up his limbs. Only after that could he observe some of the finer—and especially baffling—details.

The swear he quietly stored away into his developing vocabulary, unwise to its nature.

Speaking of vocabulary, the decidedly not-iguana broke out a mixture of noises old and new. Not to mention, without meeting gazes a single time. What was up with that? Sure he was, disturbingly enough, small in comparison, but the difference wasn't vast like between him and the fish.

Horror struck. Maybe that was the price of being a giant: size at the cost of decent eyesight. If so, he'd gladly reconsider his advantages over the local pond life.

But still, there was communication to be done, and he refused to be ignored. Splashing around in the pond was quickly becoming a habit for him. He slammed down hard enough to send the water shooting up like a miniature geyser.

In that moment, warmth seeped into the surrounding area. His jaw loosened a little as the chill was chased away, but it did nothing for his speech issues which were tied to a far more rooted problem. He parroted what was swiftly becoming his favorite word.

"Eeat." A couple seconds passed before he figured that wasn't enough and bothered to use the newest sound he'd been introduced to. "Fih... shing."

Trying to sell that, yes, he completely understood whatever he just regurgitated, claws smacked the pond's surface again.

@Imp

...Right, okay, not a creepy toddler then, at least. Something--simple. Hatchling, or a dumbass--Imp wasn't sure which, and it didn't really matter.

"Eat-? Yeah, yeah, fishing! Sure, there's fish here. I think. I mean, there better be, that's what I'm HERE for," he added, and then let out a rough cackle.

He cast a sly 'look' (but without the eyes) Fahl's way. "I'm Imp. -Did I say that already? Shit, I dunno--what's your name, anyway?" This was a new swearword, with less of the letter "f" in it, but a swear nonetheless. "You a new kid? I bet you are. Watch a MASTER at work," he added, and then--still shaking off the pain of having fallen a little too hard--launched himself straight into the water with open jaws in an attempt to catch any unwary fish that somehow swam directly into his teeth.

He'd been vaguely aware of their location from his prior magical sight, but as he dove in they scattered. He felt the thwack of tails, the sensation of the pressure of water as they flailed away, though of course that was dulled by the smash of water against his own diving face. He got lucky, though, snagging the tail of a snack barely larger than a minnow in his teeth.

Imp bobbed to the surface, a drenched feathery mess. His wings were spread out to either side, and he turned, trying to reorient himself; eventually he aimed for shore, though in a long, vaguely-wrong direction, covering far more slowly-swimming-through-water ground than he'd have had to if he'd still had eyes.

Eventually he made it, clambering clumsily up and spitting out the fish, pinning it with one wing-claw. "SEE?!" he crowed over the minnow, head turning this way and that (as he'd totally lost track of where he and Fahl both were, by now)--"MASTER fisher!"

@Fahl

More talking, more words to absorb. Most he'd already heard, but the chatter helped with context and reinforced his learning. The pace was quick enough that he almost missed the brief line of questioning, still sponging up the comments before. Uncertain of name's meaning, much less why it apparently was in his possession, he blurted any amalgamation of sounds that could squeeze past the obstruction on his tongue. If he spoke with conviction, maybe this Imp wouldn't notice his blatant ignorance.

"Fahl." Although short and simple, the delivery was similar to a child talking with food crammed in their mouth.

Having done little more than a small and cautious dive at the pond's edge, what he witnessed next was quite the spectacle. He paid no mind to the fresh shower of droplets on his scaly hide, instead straining to keep track of the activity underwater. The disturbance much worse than his splashes, the fish were fleeing in droves, row upon multi-colored row of them. Awe overtook him at the sight.

Once Imp had resurfaced, the self-named Fahl couldn't tear his attention away. Even as the other Gembound meandered, he followed alongside the shore, insistent on meeting him exactly where he would exit the pond with his catch.

The excitement did bleed away somewhat when he saw the minnow up close though. Under scrutiny, it seemed a little small for what he considered to be a toothier maw than his own. But he couldn't see himself catching anything like this (the acrid taste of the one he'd briefly touched still lingered), so who was he to dampen any spirits.

"Maa... ster," he repeated, seeking to convey some form of agreement by using whatever Imp seemed to be emphasizing the most.

Confused at why he was again not met eye to eye, Fahl stretched forward in a vain attempt to reach the other's waving snout. He cocked his head inquisitively. "See?"

@Imp