@Kaimana !
dated before the raid and the passageways' opening

she couldn't sleep.

here meant family, and here meant — (that's right!, swallow it!, choke it down!,) home. damask was canis, born and raised. this place had it all: stone flooring in rustic neutrals ... popcorn ceiling, nice and low, no excess clearance ... and best of all, only the finest natural decor, every piece one-of-a-kind with its own heart, soul, and history. looking back, it'd been ridiculous to set herself up in orion to begin with. her overlook, the wind chimes she'd made, all those glittering stars overhead ... ah, who needed 'em? never mind that she couldn't seem to relax in this room — that every time she tried, it put her to a choice between relapse or insomnia. not tonight. no running back to orion this time. to that end, damask had (re-)employed several techniques. she was two hours in at this point, and her current strategy involved a sloping floor and a little wicker ball, woven out of twigs for this specific purpose. slightly worn-and-torn, at this point; she was on her fifth one.

a few paces left, a few paces right, and she gave the ball a push with her foot. it rolled a ways up the incline, then tumbled back down. that's number ninety-eight. don't you have anything better to do with yourself? anything at all? not without admitting defeat, she didn't. pace. pace. kick. ninety-nine. you ready to give up yet? pace, pace, kick. frustration simmered low in her stomach. the reps were growing more and more violent. one-zero-zero, kid. pacepaceKICK — ... plink! ah. damask had hit it just a little too hard, there. into-the-pool-on-the-opposite-side-of-the-slope hard. good job! she skirted around the incline and scanned the water for her lost plaything. lo and behold, it was bobbing happily at the surface, unperturbed. all right, quick fix, nothing to it. she just had to lean in, grab the ball, try not to look down — ... too late. not loving what you see?

a faraway chatter drifted over the pool, consisting of a brittle kind of clinking along with a — a voice? someone whispering, idly excited. ... huh? she took up the ball, slashed away the face in the shallows, and waded quietly ahead. the water licked and clung to her trousers. a few moments later, she stepped onto shore, feathers slick around her heels. here stood a tall outcropping, blocking out whatever awaited her. but the sound was growing louder, closer: bones, damask realized, with some strange sort of attendant. heh. like the living and the dead, all wrapped up in unholy matrimony. you realize this'll probably involve talking to a stranger, right? and what happened to all that about shuteye, hm? you sure you don't wanna walk away?

the accipiter pressed on, stiffer by the second. the wicker ball trembled in her teeth. she drew to a halt ... edged her way around, almost out of cover now ... and peered around the corner.

"No, I think that one could go there and--" A chuckle, a pause in the machine before the engine revved up again. "Ooh yes, this one fits into here! And if I just connected--" The questions, the observations, the critiques, they kept coming. "Oh but that would destroy--" Each inadequately interspersed, interrupted by intervals of tiny giggles; unfit for a conversation between anyone but a single soul and its single self. "Maybe I should just start--" Anybody else would've just been confused.

What was happening? Well, let's back up and begin the explanation.

Kaimana had been overstaying her visit since her trip to the Collector. Her reason for doing so was pretty simple, if not.. just a little strange. Okay, maybe a lot strange. But that was pretty common for Kaimana! See, the jaguar loved bones. And she’d been here once before — only once and not nearly for as long as she would’ve liked. So, she had been... tempted, let’s say. Tempted? No, that didn’t do it enough justice— it was more like magnetized, emphatic. And could you blame her?! Right here, all this time, there had been a whole room full of bones!!! How could she possibly resist?! And even if she could have, why would she WANT to?! She was long overdue a tour, if anything! A room that had it all — bones, odd guests, and water for fishing in! Impossible to ignore! Impossible!!!

Gosh this room was amazing! Back in the lonely semi-land of Fornax, Kaimana had to work hard for her bones, and then often had nowhere to put them afterward. This room was quite the phenomenon for her in that sense, because she didn't have to lift anything more than her gaze to find a new and intriguing specimen, and the whole room was full of seemingly endless space for all of them! I mean, look, it was COVERED in bones and yet there was STILL ROOM FOR MORE!!!

Maybe that should've been an unsettling thought.

No matter! Tonight, Kaimana was far too preoccupied with a little project her mind had coaxed her paws into. She'd been having a bit of difficulty sleeping (although certainly not because of all the historical company) so her mind, ever at work, had come up with a bit of a puzzle to wear her out.

And that puzzle involved a bit of architecture. And of course, because I have a feeling I haven't said it enough in this post, a bit of... bones.

So far, it was going pretty great! Things were fitting, and where they weren't Kaimana was willing to go back and fix. The reworking, the designing, it was all part of the fun! The little clinks and clicking sounds were becoming ingrained in her mind; a happy cacophony. The sound of progress, slow and steady, like a leaf floating over a calm river.

She was a little too engaged in this activity to happen to notice the sound of an approach! But rest assured, it wouldn't be long before it was realized. Before the timelines, the contrasts, the foils and springs... before they all... connected.

@Damask

@Kaimana !

oh, man. all right, okay, that's ... that's a lot of bones. all sorts, shapes, and sizes, some cracked and yellowed, others well-preserved. what exactly are we looking at, here — ? see, it wasn't so much the variety that struck her as the ... configuration. they connected to form a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, interlocking, interlacing. not exactly a fortress, more of a — fort? a work in progress, homemade, built afresh with love in every fit. sorta impressive, actually. this feeling lasted for about a second and a half. then, a particular specimen captured her attention, its shape unmistakable: an avian skull; and for an instant — just an instant, a fleeting glitch in her perception — its solemn visage became her grandfather's.

all the heat flushed from her face. what's the matter? it's only dead, you know. she ushered her gaze away, traced circles into the ground with her foot. bones didn't — scare her, exactly. yes, she avoided the fortresses, and yes, she gave even the smallest ribs and carpals a wide berth, and yes, she still sometimes saw them in her sleep ... but so long as they kept their distance, damask could tolerate them. the threat of contact was what made her heart race — along with the memories the ones with faces evoked.

so in short: yeah, you're scared of 'em. got a bona-fide phobia of what they represent, and half of one for the things by themselves. we're talking bones, here — you know, fifty percent of your family's name ... the epithet of the room that's supposed to be your beloved domain ... half the title of your delusional dream job. yeah, some ████ you'd make.

she flinched, grimaced, cringed so hard it actually hurt — and no one's eyes were on to see it, (lucky you,) but (don't forget!) she wasn't alone. the whispers had grown faintly intelligible with proximity, a prattling buzz of fragments and chuckles; and here, of course, was the architect themself, visible only in darting spots and slivers behind their handiwork. the bones continued to clink as adjustments were made. whoever this mysterious creature was, they were in the zone, completely oblivious to damask's presence (and likely to anything else outside a fort-wide radius).

several moments of hesitation later, the bird of prey broke cover at last, setting her wicker ball down on a shelf in the rock; it sat patiently and placidly, out of focus behind its maker. something between fear and fascination kept her rooted to the spot. she took in a rousing breath, arranging her face into cool composure. the project was really sort of cool, wasn't it? art and science — two of her most favorite things! — rolled into one. all she had to do was ... skim over the skulls, and she'd be fine. she appraised the structure, top-to-bottom, side-to-side. finally: "this is very clever." damask sidled a little closer, gesturing via muzzle and wing as she spoke — quietly, but more and more quickly. "have you considered shifting that, ah, shoulderblade there? the angle's unstable. and this here, the ... spine, it's recent. the vertebrae will separate over time. a femur or any other long bone should work just as well, as long as it's roughly the same size."

she craned her head, seeking out a face behind the bones. uncertainty flickered over her features. what are you doing? investigating? socializing? making an effort? more like giving yourself something to chew on, but whatever you want to call it, kid.

Kaimana was indeed far too focused to notice an approach of any sort. She was picking away at her rattling puzzle, inching it bit by bit, further towards completion. Sometimes zoning in on a small act, like digging in sand or weaving together fronds, could have you zoning out of any other reality, only to jolt back to find a much larger creation in place of the one you'd started out with. That little hole you dug at the beach, now a trench big enough to fit a medium-sized person. That pile of fronds beside you somehow polymorphed into a full on basket. Your hands pounding and sore with effort, but your mind left entirely without memory of the past one or two or maybe seven hours. Moments like that that could make you question the purpose of eyes, since they didn't even seem to care about reminding you about the time of day!

Kaimana was having one of those moments. Her body seized and subdued, rendered incapable of ceasing her project for even a moment's breath. One click after another, one giggle every two clicks or so, to keep some kind of tempo. A strange dance. 'That is very clever.' The dance paused at last. The comment, the compliment, pierced her working paws, froze her head and shifting, meaningless thoughts in place. The jaguar's eyes darted around, the only thing allowed to move in this moment of temporary self-popsicle-ism. Someone was here? 'And they think that it's clever.' Oh my.

Advice was given, and Kaimana hung on to every word spoken. As the suggestions came, she treated them as instructions, following them in lockstep. Shift the shoulder blade. Check! Replace the spine with a long bone of the same size. Hold a on just moment, searching for the right bone, and.. Check! Kaimana's eyes then drifted away from the project at last, landing on the face of her accidental mentor. At first, she was surprised. Then, she grinned. Then, she laughed, with a peculiarly gentle kind of riotousness. "Thank you, thank you, and thank you. I'm Kaimana," said the jaguar, taking a breath of air now, to recompose herself. "And you are both very helpful and very much awake at a strange time. Is there a name that I may call you by?" If the other was able to catch it, Kaimana hadn't made those two observations for no reason. They were actually questions, begging for answers, in disguise! But of course, seeing as she hadn't made them all that obvious, Kaimana wouldn't mind if those secret questions flew over their head and into a recycling bin (for later use).

@Damask

The things Kaimana is trying to Wheedle:
1.) How do you know so much about bones? ["very helpful"]
2.) Why are you awake at this hour? ["very much awake at a strange time"]

Because this was a Barely Successful, and that 1st one was not straightforward in the slightest, I'd say that one might not be detectable, if Damask were likely to detect any at all.

@Kaimana !

a figure passed into view, and damask's attention sharpened at once, eager for something to point at — something other than the marvel of gothic architecture standing next to them. the stranger was distinctly feline and distinctly ... familiar? who's this remind you of? ... let's see: sturdy build, well-muscled, low to the ground; thick limbs, a whip for a tail; dark rosettes on tawny fur ... why, yes! drumroll, please: it's your old-pal-uncle-definitely-not-your-dad eythan! give or take a few things. a lot of 'em, actually. not everyone has to be like someone else, you know. she shifted from side to side, ruffling and smoothing her plumage in turn. uncanny similarities aside, this individual was a veritable study in psychological flow. damask could only watch as they sprang into action — every idea carried out to a tee, and not so much as a double-take in her direction. man, oh, man. whatever you just got yourself into, it's gonna be pure gold.

at long last, the cat broke away from their work, and there were their eyes — almost precisely level with damask's, bright and blue as the core's crystal river. she regarded them evenly, if a little roundly, brows raised and furrowed. you gonna try and smile back? no? figures. it was all she could do to hold steady, truly taken aback as she was. this kind of energy — borderline manic, yet also magnetic ... it had a way of making her nervous. that feeling only intensified as they (she? she) finally spoke, thanking damask once, twice, three times. the bird of prey nodded along in modest acknowledgment, ears flicking back. a name, now: kaimana. she echoed it voicelessly down at the floor, testing the shape of it on her tongue. it felt sort of wavy, fluid — unique. a momentary pause, and then kaimana continued. "you are both very helpful and very much awake at a strange time. is there a name that i may call you by?"

the accipiter lifted her gaze back up into contact. "yes," she said, as if the answer could've been anything but. "it's damask." ... tiny, tiny beat ... "damask vita." she inhaled, sifting her way through kaimana's choice of words — smooth, casual, but with the slightest nudge to them, as in ... hey, you just came up to me in the dead of night and started schooling me on my own architectural masterpiece. that's a little weird. care to elaborate? oh, damn it, that was weird. suddenly, she was very aware of the shadows around them, orbs at half power. ahh, one thing at a time ...

"i should explain. there's a spell i know, looks for heartbeats, senses life. the finer points of a pulse — vessels, organs, bones — indicate who or what you're looking at. you come to develop a certain eye for anatomy." and maybe, just maybe ... kaimana had an eye for it too ... ? nope! no tangents. there, that's it, that's all you have to say. anything else, you keep it to yourself; nobody wants to hear you talk about how pretty blood is. she cleared her throat and glanced away, backtracking to kaimana's first observation. had to think fast here, mile a minute. couldn't leave space for curiosity.

so you've got two options right now. option number one: tell her you hate this place and you can't sleep because of it; tell her you're a sad sack who's never gonna get what she wants; tell her you were taking it out on a toy made of twigs. option number two: lie.

"i was just finishing something," damask said — and here, she refocused, tossing her muzzle over her shoulder. note the wicker ball once again, resting peaceably on its shelf. "it's for a few new additions to the family — not mine, to clarify." ooh. backpedaled real quick, there. "just trying to help however i can. sometimes, that means working late."

finally, her gaze shifted over to the bones, if only for an indicative look. questions in disguise, huh? "i gather you're building this with a purpose in mind." two could play at that game. back to kaimana, with a sideways tweak of her head.

'Damask...' her brain began to evaluate the new word. 'That rhymes with... ham fish!' The rhyming was a private habit now. 'No, actually not quite. Maybe...' Frisk? 'It needs another syllable though.' How about obelisk? 'I don't know what that is, and also, it's too many syllables!' I'm sorry but the closest rhyme I can come up with is, um, I guess... vanish?

Vanish. The raptor-esque creature, Damask, shuffled around, looked at the floor. Didn't return Kaimana's smile. That was alright! Kaimana didn't expect them to. She just liked to grin; it was an expression of her joy, which she was sometimes very full of! Not everyone was the same way, she knew. Damask seemed a little like Mayfal, in a way. Shifty body language, perhaps quiet. Perhaps... unsure? Kaimana couldn't tell.

Damask was certainly pretty though, that Kaimana could tell with a glance. The two most monotone colors made such a lovely contrast, splattered all over Damask Vita's body, forming a pitch mask over their face and black speckles all over their fluffy array of otherwise white feathers. Even their eyes were of a muted hue -- intriguing, how such simple colors could be so striking against certain backgrounds. Something about Damask's form reminded Kaimana of someone else... a moment of speculation brought up the memory of her first time in this bone room. Ah yes! The one that had taken in that helpless little hatchling. Yes, the resemblance was faint here! So faint that perhaps it didn't exist. So faint that, in a moment, the resemblance seemed to vanish...

The moment Damask Vita said the word 'spell', it was like magic happened (haha) in Kaimana's demeanor. She began to lean forward, perhaps a little too forward, as if her body were being suspended at an angle by a taut cable -- any further and the stress might make that cable snap! Her eyes got wider and wider as the avian went on, bigger and rounder as if they could threaten to expand exponentially, glittering and gleaming like the reflection of the sun on open water. By the end of just one sentence, she already had the largest bundle of questions bound up in her mind, banging at the walls for release!

And just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore,the dam was going to break and the tsunami of questions would be unleashed, there was YET ANOTHER EXCITING THING REVEALED!!! Kaimana's tail began to flicker and flit, to pat the ground eagerly, perhaps to provide some catharsis for the kinetic energy pent up within the jaguar. 'New additions to the family?' They weren't Damask's, but Damask was making things for them-- OH OH OH!

It was at this moment that Kaimana could no longer contain herself. As Damask turned their head back to look at something over their shoulder, Kaimana tried to poke her head up so her own two peepers could also get a peek. In her excitement, she couldn't even begin to try and detect Damask's lie. There was an observation made, a clear nudge back in Kaimana's direction. Her toothy grin was almost beginning to hurt but could you blame her? These were her favorite topics, being hit on entirely by accident! 'I think I'm gonna like this conversation with this stranger here.' I think so too.

"I didn't!" Her answer came swift as she wanted to move on. There wasn't much to talk about with her bone fort anyways. She'd made it 'cause she'd made it. "May I see your creation?" Ooooh it was so hard to contain all the things she wanted to blurt out!! But she had to try! Being interrogated wasn't comfortable! But but but-- she should pull back. Cool it and reset herself. Deep breath. Inhale... exhale. Okay? Go. "Aha, I'm sorry, that was a rushed answer-- it's just that, you've made me very happy! I suppose that's strange. Well, alright, you know how you brought up the new additions to your family? I'm about to add to... I'm about to start my own family! I found a stone and revived it with my magic." Kaimana was already starting to get excited again. "And-- ah, I've been looking for toys for a while now-- in fact, that is, in part, why I came back here!" She giggled. So much energy, and how to filter it? How to restrain it, just a little, for Damask's sake? "So I completely-- I understand what you mean! And, if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to see what you made!" Another laugh. It was so hard not to!

@Damask

@Kaimana
meet wickie the wicker ball!

holy — ... is she okay? the bird of prey's jawline twisted a little further to the right, as if to resist a wave of heat. naturally, kaimana was not less than okay — she was so far past that, it almost looped back around into warranting concern. energy all but shimmered around her, sparks flying off in twitchy stops and starts. her eyes had swollen into full blue moons, fangs gleaming like swords. damask wasn't sure whether to be intimidated or impressed, and not just by the teeth. smiles for miles. oh, you wish you felt so alive. that attentive gaze was a spotlight, and she wanted, needed it off. ergo, the fort. after all that work, kaimana had to jump at the chance to get into it, right? bzzt! wrong!

instead: "may i see your creation?" her — ... her creation? so that was what all the peeking had been about; kaimana couldn't actually see it. which meant that ... she didn't know what it was, which then meant that ... she was vastly overestimating its caliber, its craftsmanship, its — everything. sure did walk right into that one, hm? nicely done. kaimana hit rewind, enthused some more: "aha, i'm sorry ... you've made me very happy!" hah, what? that some kind of joke? then: "i'm about to start my own family!"

... and everything made sense. unsettling how he kept coming up, but — in the weeks leading up to avi, eythan had looked something like this, fussing and prancing, frenetic, excited. damask reacted now with the same expression she'd worn then: a soft (weak) smile, eyelids at half-mast. that's great, it said, with all the myriad implications those two words might've carried out loud. of course kaimana was looking for toys, and of course she had to run into damask, who happened to be in possession of such an item at this very moment. and don't forget, it's one of the worst you've ever made. why not! why not. her stomach churned with dismay, frustration, exhaustion, but ... she let go of her chin, and with it her resistance. the nod was slight, cautious. "all right."

mustering herself, the accipiter stepped back and swept around with a flourish. kaimana, ball; ball, kaimana. go on, get to know each other. trouble was ... charming or not, the thing really, truly wasn't much, and she knew that for a fact. all told, it was only about the size of a fist; the weave was tight, but sparse, subtly frayed after a few hours' use. there was one piece of the lie — the kids got carvings, not shoddy little kickballs. damask drew herself upright, buttoning up, all business and stiffness. her eyes rested on the wicker ball, avoiding the dejected reaction sure to come. it rolled an inch forward, rolled an inch back, stirred into motion by the breeze. flimsy piece of garbage. okay. best to get this over with. she outstretched a broad, black-and-white wing, presenting three dextrous claws by way of explanation.

"it's very simple: just a few flexible twigs, soaked and coiled, woven together. things like this, they're made to be broken." a pang of feeling, unexpected. she almost winced — didn't. "you're welcome to it, but i can do better."

wow, that really was an actual offer you just made.

"hey ... congratulations, yeah? one of ours happened that way. happiest kid you'll ever meet." happiest dad, too. don't mention it. another gesture towards the fort, to specify. "you could do something like this for yours, you know. it's not just toys. they thrive on all different sights to see, textures to feel, places to explore and experience — as much of the world as you can give them, i think, while they're still ..." what? what? hello? tap the brakes! "... small." sorta like your voice just now. could we get a disclaimer in here, please? and could you quit embarrassing yourself, get the subject off your own little theories? "it's not my area; i apologize. you'll be a good parent, kaimana."

((Okay I'm rolling first I just gotta see))

Kaimana's wide pools filled with excitement were also still eyes. They still saw. They still... observed. Kaimana was the observing kind, usually. That's what happened when you grew up a quiet child among a violent sea. That's what happened when you only met people occasionally and therefore had a great desire to know them, to care about them -- you watched. You listened. You learned. And what Kaimana was watching, listening, and learning about Damask, simply from the movements and the tone of voice and the words chosen -- this bird was tense. I mean, that was obvious enough, but-- but there was something strange in their resistance. Their caution. Kaimana wasn't seeing it all clearly yet, so she wasn't assuming anything. Yet.

Kaimana followed after Damask, a bounce in her step, a result of chronic longterm eagerness. Anticipation was building, but in one party much faster than the other. Kaimana didn't know what to expect from a crafted object, supposedly made for children, so this would be educational. When she saw it at last, the lovely little twig ball, she had to try with everything she had to swallow down a squeal. She didn't know what to say! Damask had been kind enough to show it to her in the first place, so perhaps a thank you-- but it seemed Damask was already back on talking duty, so she didn't have to worry about it.

Still, all her facial muscles were testing the boundaries of how bright and wide they could make a smile out to be. Perhaps there was strain in her jaws, as if she wasn't biting down merely in reaction to energy, but also as a way to build a dam for the words she would've loved to let spill unobstructed.

Damask began the explanation, and this was where Kaimana began to really pay attention to body language, to all the little ticks that people bury so deep in themselves, it would take a seasoned archaeologist to safely uncover and remove them. To all the little ticks that informed every conversation partner, every audience member, every onlooker, of more about you than you could possibly give away with tainted words, or with opaque secrets.

Within Damask's first few words, Kaimana was already impressed, and already noticing something very disjointed. Something very off. 'Things like this, they're made to be broken.' The jaguar caught it, the almost wince. Just that little tick made the subsequent offer sound like a whole new sentence.

Let's work this out. 'Let's.' Before, Damask said... 'that they were working on something for new additions -- children.' Right. 'They implied--' more like outright stated -- 'THIS was the creation made for children.' Yes. 'But it's made to be broken, and they're offering it to me. Offering me something...' Better. Yes. 'This doesn't add up.' No it does not. 'You make something quote unquote for children in your family, and yet it's made to break and--' the wince, they almost winced, remember-- 'does that bring you pain, Damask Vita? Does it bring you pain that you've built something for breaking, and that you're willing to give it away?' Now why would it do that? 'It's not for the kids.' Who is it for...? '...Damask Vita, you've just lied to a stranger! And I almost believed you.'

Did Kaimana feel betrayed? No. Not in the slightest.

Damask was quick to move on, yet again. The jaguar was noticing a pattern. Was Damask trying not to let her get a word in edgewise? It was like Damask was trying to dominate the conversation, except it wasn't so much as dominate as it was... making it impossible for Kaimana to participate... GAH! What was it? It felt balanced perfectly on the tip of Kaimana's tongue, the tip of her mind, threatening to fall off before she could catch it--

Advice. Good advice, very good advice. Kaimana's features softened, her swelling grin began to deflate, and calmness shrouded her expression once more. It might've seemed like her bubble had been burst by this conversation, but that could not be further from the truth. Damask retracted quick from the information given. Quick like they wished to avoid, quick like they wished to move on. Kaimana had just done the same thing in regards to her bone fort.

Damask's behavior was curious -- more than that, actually, but Kaimana would under exaggerate for their sake. They stiffened and sold, but broke one of the most important rules of presentation: not underselling yourself on the spot. Did they not realize how helpful they were? How knowledgeable and impressive they had seemed, in just a few minutes of interaction, to a complete stranger? 'Why do you run the race like you're going to LOSE it, Damask Vita?' If that was a real name. Kaimana would treat it as such, of course. That was courtesy.

Now to respond. "Thank you very much, Damask. Despite it not being 'your area', you have still given me priceless information. Literally. Did you intend to charge for it?" She laughed, a good-natured laugh. Kaimana had never laughed nefariously-- maniacally, yes, but nefariously? Never. "Perhaps not. But if I were you, I would call this a lesson given and ask you for a fish in return." A soft smile, small to match Damask's small voice. "Thank you, again. There's no need to apologize for knowing what you know. You seem to know very much, Damask. Not just about craft and children, but about anatomy as well! I'm impressed! I love bones, I've loved bones for as long as I can remember, and yet I think your knowledge of them outmatches mine. I'm jealous," she playfully confessed.

"And your offer-- I should've addressed it earlier, right? Well, although it is tempting, I won't take your twig ball from you." Very, very deliberate choice of pronouns there. "It is a charming item! You should be proud of it. I," she flexed and released the claws on her paws, "don't think I could do anything nearly as intricate." Her grin returned. "Perhaps I will commission you." The jaguar put a paw gently to her coral beard. "If I could, what would I ask for? Hm.." 'I would like to commission a toy for Damask Vita, lives in a bone room. They have a wicker ball, but they think it will break, and that seems like a painful thought for them. So I would like something similar, of a sturdier quality, if you wouldn't mind.' Could she say that? Probably not. How could she address the lying without inspiring the guilt?

A thought.

"I'd love to speak more of bones-- ooh, and magic! Despite the fact that it's all around me, it has always confused me. Anyways-- I'd love to hear what you know, Damask, but first, a bit of business regarding toys and craftsmanship and such. Regarding the last interesting tidbit you've given me. You were a child once, right?" She chuckled. "I'm assuming at least some of what you know about children comes from having been one yourself. Did you have toys, Damask? Did you have a favorite?" A pause. She glanced at the twig ball. A breath. 'Should I just come out and say it? Combat lies with honesty?'

'No. Not yet. Mayfal lied out of distrust. Damask... is probably doing the same. That's something I have to respect.' But Kaimana feared the outcome. If Damask figured out that she knew, if Damask felt guilty or afraid... "Was it also made of soaked twigs?"

@Kaimana
oh jees okay heads up for some pretty intense panic in the narrative here i'm so sorry

the pause that ensued was brief, natural, wholly unremarkable. this was definitely not how it felt. excuse expired. you gotta be very brave, now: you gotta ... make eye contact. damask risked a glimpse in her periphery, then eased her way back to kaimana's face. (miraculously,) the expression she found wasn't one of abject disappointment; rather, the cat had softened while damask wasn't looking. she seemed calmer, sort of ... pensive — which was almost worse than the expected alternative. now, what might be going on in there? could be she's thinking it over, taking you serious, accepting your uneducated guesses. could be she's thinking about the fact that some kid (that's you) just gave her parenting advice. or, could be ... she's thinking about her future with her child, 'cause guess what? it's not always about you.

but the way kaimana was talking, you could've been forgiven for supposing it was.

damask had opened a conversational door, even held it for her; but instead, the cat thanked her again, reassured her, even ... (is that supposed to be funny — ?) asked if she was charging for this? ah, yes, it is; she's laughing. now, how do we react to jokes again? she resurrected that slender smile, tipping her head left and right, playing along: oh, no, i couldn't possibly. and there was a hint of humble embarrassment in the gesture, yes; but it couldn't compare to the sheer, visceral discomfort mounting underneath, climbing and climbing as kaimana continued. these honeyed words of hers, this — praise? flattery? admiration? no way it's real.

there was something about this cat. crafty, slippery, hard to get ahold of. it's like she can hear us. the way she kept invoking her name, one-two-three-four times, every one digging under her skin — the way she took bits and pieces, the disclaimer, the apology, and dissected them on the spot — just little blips ... charming and intricate, paired with the very not-charming, not-intricate term twig ball; "i should've addressed it earlier," as if to highlight that she hadn't been given a chance to; the your (damask's) and the you (damask) on something that was emphatically not damask's ... it was an interrogation, testing her defenses, probing for weakness. cycles ago, she might've started to cave: shuffled her feet and averted her eyes, agonizing over the compliments, whether to trust them. this damask, right here, right now? no question. this one was poise incarnate, upright posture, unaffected expression, all dressed up in a tailored tuxedo — impeccably fitted, not a frayed thread or an undone button to be found. tradeoff was, she couldn't quite breathe in it.

a paw drifted up to the dangling row of pink and blue at kaimana's chin. the accipiter's eyes flicked down for a second to observe, then retook their hold on their opponents. it was the first and only time they'd broken, otherwise unblinking, unwavering. "what would i ask for? hm ..." a fractional avian cock of the head; she could've rattled off a list of ideas, but the cat wasn't finished. "... ooh, and magic!" another tilt in the opposite direction; magic was a favorite subject of hers, safe, comfortable — but the cat wasn't finished. "you were a child once, right?" she righted herself with a near-audible snap; this wasn't just a question so rhetorical it was ridiculous, it was a line whose endpoint she did not want to see — but the cat still wasn't finished.

"did you have toys, damask? did you have a favorite? was it also made of soaked twigs?"

pop, pop, pop. a trio of bullets, right between the eyes. now she was finished.

damask didn't move an inch. fiery heat rose into her face, a rush of nausea, chest like a cage; and it was all invisible, very carefully so, but that hiding came at the expense of an outlet. enter shock, take a left at guilt, ride the elevator straight up to panic. how had she — damask hadn't — she could've sworn she'd been good — clearly YOU WEREN'T. this was a screw-up, massive massive mistake — even flipping like mad through the pages of every word, every gesture of this encounter, she couldn't figure out where on earth she'd gone wrong, must've let something slip in her body language without knowing — shouldn't've lied (except that you had to) shouldn't've mentioned the ball (but it was right there behind you) shouldn't've come up to a stranger in the first place (well yes told you as much) shouldn't've made something just to destroy it (yeah that's it) shouldn't've let herself sink so low that she needed something to destroy (now we're getting somewhere) shouldn't've told auré shouldn't've told auré shouldn't've told auré (you're not a ████ not a ████ never gonna be a —————

control. composure. face like one of the birds that she hunted, pinned in her talons, not so much as a twitch.

"i was more the exploring type," damask said, and yes, it was quiet, yes, it was stiff, nothing moving except for her lips — but no, she didn't stutter, and no, she didn't miss a beat, deliberately replicating that first unremarkable pause. having disclosed this lone, six-word scrap of information, she cut the standard interval in half and brought it back to the concrete and impersonal, leaving no space for cross-examination.

"but some are all about the rough and tumble — satisfies their instincts, offers a release when they need it." take another look at that little piece of trash you made. oh, wouldn't you love to kill it right now? bite down and rip it apart until there's nothing left? taste blood on your tongue, spend the next hour picking out all the splinters? "growing up comes with a lot of energy and a lot of emotion. better to let them take it out on something disposable, right?" like this ball, for instance! that's the implication. but what about those poor lost souls at the meet, the big tourists, squirming because of you? for a minute, just one delicious minute, didn't that feel so good? are you talking about kids, or are you talking about you?

okay, split-second! your time is up. fantasy over; eyes on the cat. and fight back, will you?

"i get the impression you were different — partial to more ... cerebral activities. not so much toys as games, the kind that made you think. you liked making things, putting them together, or maybe — collecting them?" the architecture alone spoke to that. an appraising look, and then, knowingly: "if i had to guess." another little pause, as if she needed a moment to think about it. (she didn't.) "the magic you've given might impart similar tastes. bearing that in mind: what do you think you would've liked best? try me."

an emotionally immaculate performance, damask was certain of it. maybe too spotless, and that said something in itself; but somehow, somehow she'd given herself away last time, and she couldn't allow that to happen again.

Kaimana could've been thinking about her child to be. Could've thought about how they might end up -- happy, maybe? Suitably spoiled-- or, rather, entertained? She could've been inventing in her mind; imagining places to show them, and games to play with them, or what kinds of toys and textures and worlds to give them. Or, on a more present-oriented note, she could've been calculating her own missteps, trying to predict the route of her secret jabs. Trying to generate various outcomes, various reactions, various expressions, using some social equivalent to mathematics -- using the anticipation she was so full of. She could've been analyzing that smile at her joke, or that eye contact; how obstinate it was, how unmoving, like stone. Or how Damask did not seem to move even an inch, didn't seem to twitter or shuffle now, almost like it was impossible for them to do so at all. Almost like a statue. And Kaimana could've been jumping to conclusions about it all, about what it meant, now that she'd been clued into the fact that deeper meanings were indeed latent beneath the flesh of this conversation.

But she wasn't, in this moment, thinking of any of those things. She couldn't, in this moment, think of any of those things because...

Because yet again, Damask was spinning it back to her and leaving no chance for interlude. Not even an interjection like an 'I see,' or an 'Is that so?' to let them know of her engagement in their words. Already moving onto the next bit, filling in the bricks with mortar deftly, with the efficiency of an experienced mason -- a panicked mason, more like, fearing this castle wall in the works to be the only barrier between themself and the wild monsters approaching from the outside. It was... it was a shame. But it was a shame that Kaimana could-- that Kaimana had to respect.

And now, Damask was trying to read Kaimana right back. Funny, the assumptions they were making, like jabs in an arena. This was just a simple conversation, was it not? They shouldn't have to duel in this intellectual manner. Kaimana didn't want to. This four-dimensional fighting was proving itself to be pointless anyways, for, just as Kaimana had been wrong about Damask, Damask had been... a little bit wrong about Kaimana. Okay, actually, maybe Damask had been pretty spot on, but to be fair, Kaimana had asked her question for... multiple reasons. Anyways! "You continue to shower me in kindness, D-- Miiiih.... Miss, Mister? I apologize. I fear I've nearly worn out your name by now, but I would hate to assume your gender..." Hesitation, for just a moment, about how to finish this sentence. "Damask." Well, you knew that was how it was going to end, didn't you? The jaguar looked almost sheepish.

Kaimana would allow space between speech for Damask to assist her in this 'honorifics' domain, if the avian was so inclined. The jaguar would then continue: "You've pegged me for the crafting or collecting type? Is that considered 'cerebral'? Well, you would be... alright, I won't lie, you are certainly correct. I do those things now. When I was a child, however, I remember being worried about food mostly." The jaguar giggled. "Where I grew up was... rather lonely. At times. I had to figure out how to fish and swim and all that. Not a lot of time for crafting and collecting, and not a lot of other creatures around for a good game." Her giggle trailed off, leaving a smile in its wake. For just an instant, she tried to remember some of her puerile moments-- as in, the fun and goofy kiddish ones, not the ones were she nearly drowned trying to figure out how to swim well on her own, or had to take makeshift cover from a storm.

There had been a lot of emptiness in that time, but at least she'd had the ocean. Glaive, sometimes. It was... well, Kaimana was just glad she had the ability to travel now. To meet people, instead of waiting for them to come to her. 'How good am I at meeting people now, though?' Irrelevant. Back to the spoken question. "But if, back then, I were to have had a favorite... enrichment activity, I suppose..." The jaguar looked at her bone fort and a smirk crept its way across her face. "...I suppose it would have probably been a game. Indeed, just like you guessed. Maybe I would have built a bone fort earlier, if I had been in the presence of a collection of bones as grandiose as this one. Maybe you, explorer that you were, might've found it back then as well." Another joke led to a chuckle this time -- low and soft, more a vibration than a jovial outburst.

Kaimana now had the ball, didn't she? Did she? If she did, she could hold it for a while, two or three seconds maybe. Not enough time to fret. Not enough time to wonder too far, to make it off the court for a sit-down-and-chat-with-yourself. No, she had to be in the game. What was she even trying to win here? "Bones, bones, bones." An idle musing, to buy more time. She couldn't win anybody's trust and she knew it. She didn't need to win that. Let Damask live with a chance encounter, let them both get something out of it. But what? "And magic. And a game." Now that you've recapped, care to pass that ball? (Remember that you've got to put in an order before you can move on!) "I'll trust your expertise and assume that my magic might've imparted such tastes to the stone. In which case, I would like to commission a game from you. If that is a task worthy of your time and talent, and you'll allow me to ask for such a thing." Another chuckle. "I'm being hasty so that I can ask you about bones, if that is alright with you?" There. Ball passed.

Now she could worry about the lie. And yes, Kaimana was worried, although it didn't show. She was thinking more in depth, now that she could; the wince, the pain at the thought of that ball being made to break. That ball, likely Damask's. The lie. Why lie? Why lie and then fail to cover it up? 'Is it really my place to be probing here? I don't know Damask Vita.' But you want to help anyways, don't you. '...Damask isn't out here working late on making that ball.' Well, Damask could be, it's just not for the kids. 'But then what is it for?' What you really want to know is, why is Damask out here? 'I shouldn't be wondering. It's not my place.' Still, you figure something is bothering this stranger and you want to help. 'Yes.' And how will you do that? 'By... by giving Damask something else to think about? Something fun maybe. Damask might have been expressing interest in the topics of bones and magic. So, in the end, I'm making the right move here by not talking about the twig ball anymore, right?' I... I hope so, Kaimana, but I can't be sure.

@Damask AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH