Carja settled down with a grin on her face, panting slightly from blowing away those spores. She whirled around to look at Dread, Svartis, Bone, and Wyvern, her face falling.

"... Guys?", she asked, "Did it work? Are we okay?"

She felt like she couldn't move either direction, feeling an urge to head towards the tunnel, but also an urge to move towards her family to help in any way she could.

We're your family now...

Huh? What in the caves did that mean? Of course they were her family!

Feelings of warmth and safety flickered up, and she looked at the dragons before her, torn between staying and going, a strange pain welling up in her skull as she rocked back and forth weirdly.

"Th-there's a weird voice in my head!!", she said, distressed, not knowing at all what was going on.

Her sheer stubbornness lead her away from her family and towards the shouting of the rainbow horse (Hey! That was James!) and the mushroom deer. She fought past the sudden agony, springing over like a hair and sitting down in front of James with her head low.

"Help me," she begged, "And my auntie- please."

James is rolling to assist any Gembound who come to him to be cleansed!

James inhaled as Carja came close, pressing his nose against her's, "Don't worry, Carja. I will help you, I promise. I promise."

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the magic to come forth, to purge the fungus from the dragon, banishing it from her body and into the ground. He could do it... come on...!

A breath of relief left him as the fungus was purged, it's effects negated as it touched the magic-imbued ground of Polaris. He pushed her off towards her family, looking up at the dragon.

"Go," he urged, "Help them."

James successfully purges Carja!

Sergei did not wait. He charged for the riverside, panic, terror driving him--driving all thought from his barbearian mind. Thick paws thudded clumsily on the rock as he ran: his form was suited for standing and fighting, not for racing along swiftly or easily on two legs.

Sebastian, limp, was cradled in his bear arms.

The bear swerved, hearing only his own panicked breathing rushing through his chest, his own heart pounding in his ears, seeing only a horrified, nightmarish blur he'd see again only in nightmares: the crash and spin of bodies in the snow, the cloud of spores, the movement of those fleeing or fighting.

No-... He couldn't take this, not again. He wanted to be brave, but he wasn't. Not like this. And anyway... he had to protect Sebastian.

He carried the panther toward the tunnels that led to Eridanus; surely greenery, moisture, warmth would help him-? Sergei hoped... he wasn't a medic.

He didn't know what else to do. But perhaps... when the cat was safe, then he could return--in case he could help, somehow.

exit Sergei, at least for now

Bone felt no real reason to resist. Distantly, she felt the flames fade, felt Svartis nudging at her side, and there was a strangely-reassuring sense of safety in it. And something else. It niggled at her mind, even as the cries of RESIST came and went, even as Wyvern--who she didn't know, who she'd never met--was calling her by a name she must have been told by another. She didn't know Wyvern. The words didn't ring with any urgency--it wasn't family or friend calling her by name, but a stranger.

No: what mattered here, past the fog of pain and the confusion of her impact, was the brief memory of a conversation she'd had with Carja. She'd known that Svartis would fall in love with the cave of snow and ice. Asimona, too, if Bone were any judge. And then the family would be broken apart: half heat-loving and basking in the orb-light, half sweeping through the blizzards and delighting in the cold. But now-...

Now this flickering warmth within her was promising togetherness. They could go... together. She could be happy in the snow; she wouldn't feel the cold. Even now she could feel the vague confusion of others, some rebelling, pained; some in wonder, accepting. She felt pity for those who could not accept. She felt motherly: an urge to reassure them. This couldn't be wrong-... This was family. She felt a connection to her brother that she'd never had.

But-...

For a moment, Bone hesitated, faintly confused. Should we... go with it, Svartis? she thought, but it was only a thought, and not words--perhaps her brother would sense, hear, or perhaps not. She was struggling back to her feet, heavily, her weight and pain pressing her down into the snow.

Slowly, the white dragon turned, and began to trudge toward Ursa. Her wings hung at her side, battered; her pale eyes were bleary with pain, but the promise of family beyond was enticing. Her gaze flicked to Svartis, and she eyed him with gentle confusion. "We are to... go there, yes?" she asked him, voice faltering.

It took Dread a moment to realize that his daughter had been downed. He was turning, on the wing, flapping once to avoid the narrow neck where the cave tunnel led from the open spaces of Polaris into the tighter fit of the tunnel. He'd not be able to freely fly, there, and thus it took him a moment of careful maneuvering before he had a beat to look for his children.

They were both on the ground--Svartis landing beside Bone, whose body briefly licked with flames. Svartis had had to put her out more often than was good for them--they were a good pair, Dread thought. Bone melted bad ice. Svartis cooled bad fire.

Still, as he swept closer--wings again flapping once, then gliding him high overhead--he realized that she wasn't very well-off at all. She was struggling to even stand, and all around them were rushing Gembound, shouts of alarm. Panic rose in the black dragon: the ground was a terrible place for a dragon to be, and those Vargas-Alpha things were all over the place down there.

"BONE! SVARTIS!" he howled--ignorant of the feathered creature mimicking those names, a bird-thing he'd never met. It didn't matter. What mattered was making sure his children were safe, and to that end the dragon swept slightly lower, jaw snapping open, lungs inhaling an emberglow roar of air. From his jaws plumed a torrent of flame, and Dread laid down a line of it: a barrier of fire, though it might last only seconds on the snow. But the point was made: he was protecting his children.

Grounded or not, they were not harmless. They were not easy prey.

The black dragon roared, ear-shattering, agonized in his helpless fear for them, and circled close overhead with a frantic beating of his wings.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He still stood, trembling, gritting his entire being against the onslaught. For an instant he felt that brief warmth, that togetherness--he felt Alpha somewhere on the outer edges of his being, even. Perhaps Mother was striking more hard at the Leviathan: a powerful asset, if she could gain control over him. Or perhaps Orthoclase-Alpha had a stronger control than Vargas did. His own mind was slipping away, confused, and for a moment he could hardly remember why he was fighting: and then his head turned, even as his feet took two half-unwilling steps toward Ursa, and saw--felt--Alpha, forcing its way toward Astraea with slow and agonized steps.

For a brief moment Vargas felt condemnation toward his spawn--how dare it!--but then that faltered. No-... no, that wasn't right. Orthoclase was right-... Anger flicked back through confusion, then to pride; it was strong. It was resisting. It was-

And then Astraea was bounding up against him, a touch, and Vargas struggled to remain still--teeth still gritted. I should have known better, he lamented, in his mind--lashing out with wordless anger at the sudden sensation of a disapproving Mother scolding him for his disobedience. I was warned that it would have something to do with this. But I had thought it would be farther on... orchestrating. Not inside the damn golem. An unforgivable mistake, even so. The fungus might require organic matter to feed on, but nothing had precluded the golem from being its vessel in the short-term.

Damn it-!

A brief, dizzying sensation, and Vargas was torn back to reality--and any disdain he'd begun to hold for Astraea was swept away into deep gratitude and relief. He sagged, staggered, as white cotton-fluff was torn from him--as it drifted away, now lifeless, down into the snow. A ragged gasp pulled bitter air into his massive lungs and he turned, staggering, his new immediate goal apparent: to protect Astraea in his task.

Any infected who came for the other Master would find Vargas prepared to defend him: this was too important.

Too important to fail at.

The hivemind that had briefly assaulted him with thought and sensation left him, even after only a few instants, feeling strangely alone--but he pushed that away, and he concentrated. He forced sharp eyes to cut around the cave. Forced long limbs after Astraea in a rush--not in pursuit but in guardianship.

His gaze sought out his spawn, where he could. To Orthoclase, to Ruby, he offered stern nods of approval. They were doing well.

Who else was there? Ahh--Khavur. Vargas had felt the fluttering touch of its mind against his own, briefly, and he turned, trying to seek it out. He tried to reach his magic for it, but given the chaos, his failure was unsurprising--he barked out his command, then, in its stead. "RESIST it, Khavur. COME TO ME," he commanded, every bit of authority he could muster shoving in behind it.

Esther spotted a deer through the chaos - something about bringing gembound to him or the winged horse to get cured from... The chaos that was those spores that went everywhere. Crashing into that other gembound seemed to work to get whatever it was out of their system, which meant Esther had the chance to help someone else.

ŏ̷̡̖͎͎̠̲̠̦̹̬̖̊̈́̒͐͗̌̉͝͝͝r̷̡̾͂͐̏͛̒͆̈́̈́́̕͘ͅ ̶̨̳̬̣̞̭̀̉̄͘y̴̢̡̱͙͈͇̹̿̏o̷͚͇̲̤̟̪͍̮̠̮̩̳̐̑́̔̽̌͛̓̆͌̊͠͝u̸̱̪̟̥̬͇͋̂̂́̈́̕ ̷̢̢̮͉̳̬̦͙̙͓͎̣͇͇̂̊͊͜c̷̨̨̪̮̐͑̈̐̀̑̇̊̈́̋̾̚͠ǫ̴̨̪̭̝̘̲͈͍͆̅͛͗̿̓͗̅̅͐͝u̶̱͎̠͎̗̬̽̊̈̊̽̈́̓ļ̸̼͚͖̭̙̼̬̠͉̄͜͝d̴̨̹͈̱̼͊̍̅̾̃̆ ̴͓̍̈͋̐̂͌͠j̷̧̢̥̹͉͖̼̖̾̋͗̃̉̌̕͜͠ù̴̮̯̘̟̈͋͝ͅs̸͎̰̭̭̩̊̋͜t̵̙̍̂̋̓̐͛̽́̍̊͘ ̵̨͇́̈́̈͋̈́̎͑̄̚͝ͅw̵̧̞̭̭̫̥͖̎̐͒̿͌̔̊͊̋́̈́̚͝ặ̸̛̲̥̜͍̃́̌̐͝ͅt̶̢̢͎͉͔͂̓̀̀̈̄̓̿̃̈́̚ͅç̴͕̬̍̄̔h̵̨̧̩̲̱̰̥͖̰͚͎̘̓̑̆͒͂̋͋͐͘͝

No. No. Esther was not going to just watch. This was gembounds loved ones getting hurt - all of the yelling. Screaming of gembounds to their family. Esther could hear it. They didn't like it and didn't want to hear it anymore. If it meant being able to help only one, then they would help that one. The chaos in their brain wasn't going to coerce them into hurting someone else when they were supposed to be helping. Even if that shadow was looming over their shoulder demanding them to burn them all.

Rainstorm didn't understand what was going on. One moment they were listneing to the others fight something huge they couldn't see, and another moment there was a strange relaxed feeling in their body despite themselves. It felt wrong. Something was wrong. Rainstorm was not relaxed - they never relaxed!

Mother will take care of you.

Rainstorm definitely didn't like that - and yet something in their head was telling them that everything would be okay. That nothing wrong could be done anymore. Rainstorm wanted to resist this nice feeling. This feeling of niceness was fake. Nothing here was nice. The nice feeling didn't go away, though. And their legs began to move on their own, to some place the bird couldn't see.

Rainstorm didn't want their legs to move. They didn't want to move! And yet they were. They were moving anyway. Moving to some place they didn't know. The feeling of comfort radiating off of... Something. Rainstorm didn't know what that something was. They couldn't see the something, but they could certainly feel it.

They didn't want this. But the calming feeling in their chest waved through their body in a sense they'd never felt in a long time. But it was so fake They stopped moving. Yes, this was fake. This fleeting feeling of softness in their body was the fakest thing they had ever felt. Nothing here was good. Everything was bad - no one was a good gembound. All of them had some reason or another to do what they did. This was another of those things.

They ended up turning to @James now, and away from the looming feeling of protectiveness that came from wherever their legs were trying to go before.

Cryogen

Still shaking slightly from the burst of adrenaline, Cryogen takes a step sideways out of the path of the galloping mushroom deer, Astraea, that was actually pretty unnecessary given he was a few meters away, but the point stands.

Part of them wants to leave, just... get out, like the bear had with his friend, but they steel themselves and moves closer to the group, first hesitantly and then at almost a gallop as Vargas is cured, and then some others start to move away and into the Tunnel.

The guilt and sadness of the angel-like being fills Cryogen with their own type of pity, and they make a small decision to coerce some sort of comfort out of themselves for the giant being after everything calms down, and maybe offer some sort of care for the bleeding behemoth.

The few that had gotten cured gives Cryogen some sort of idea as to what's going on as they watch the spores flush out, the shivering and then the determination glowing in the eyes of the toxic colored giant convinces them that no-one should leave with those spores within them, and they gallop past the small gathering near Astraea, Vargas, James, and any others coming forward for curing, and they plant their hooves to fire another bolt of magic into the Tunnel, hoping to bring down part of the ceiling or even the wall behind the ice and make the escape harder for anyone who is larger, or too small... Hopefully?

Cryogen can feel magic once again sputter, but they also can feel it leap free again and arc towards the walls, and he braces for impact and waits for the snow being kicked up by the flurry of movement and dragonfire to part long enough to show them the results.