The sound had been constant. Over the course of the previous cycle the sound had built itself in to a low insectoid whirring; a feedback loop, of sorts. It had been imperceptible to event the most sensitive of ears, easily swallowed up by the thunderclap of the waterfall—but something had changed, and only the sound of furious rushing water could be heard.

The alcove was well hidden. Set within it had been a pale blue pearl of turquoise, left to seed itself against the wall and grow. Now it filled the space, glowing with a faint but cool radiance. A juvenile form was tucked inside of it but there was no way to make out exactly what or who it was; everything was amorphous and blue like the sky, not that anyone would know that.

Nebulous energy sparked within. It danced across the interior, adding the finishing touches to the being that was locked inside. The glow dimmed—the sombre blue light replaced by tenebrity—and then the first crack shocked its way across the chrysalis surface. The creature within paused then to rest; meanwhile, damp air began to seep inside.

She took her first breath. Wet stone. Slick, saturated lichen. The taste of old green things rotting in tepid water. Was this the world she was meant to inherit? Fetid and loud. There was no telling what lay out there among the white-noise. Another breath; minerality spiked with sour mud, an earthiness that was not altogether unpleasant, and a damp quality to everything.

When she adjusted herself the chrysalis shuddered. The lengthy crack grew a few more inches, and a few shards fell away where it was thin. They hit the floor of the alcove, sounding sharp, like wind chimes—they shattered like glass. Staying within the shell to bask in the warmth her body had pent-up was no longer a viable option, and so the creature reached out and took a step.

As the juvenile uncurled its body from the womb-like turquoise she felt the shards of scattered rock with her toes. The larger ones she cast aside with a flick of her talons; the smaller ones, having been rendered to dust, dug in to the meat of her palms. She ignored them—they looked dazzling, and they did not hurt—while she extracted her hindquarters next. The sound of her hooves upon the stone floor of the alcove was much more pronounced.

Her wings were tucked against the side of her body. They unfurled one after the other, haphazard, sticky and damp from fluids that had built up within the chrysalis. As the girl took her first few strides she felt inclined to spread them and give them a shake. The feathers spiked outward and then settled, and the girl stood there perplexed by their shape. Behind her trailed a tangle of blue that matched her wings, and after she had flexed the appendages she pirouetted with a tilt to her head, inspecting her tail.

Should anyone come upon her, they will find her bowed attentively to the tangle, combing through it softly with her teeth or the knobby fingers of her front feet. Just because she was born to this graceless place did not mean she had to match it.

It seemed that most of his day to day life, now, was spent reflecting on the past. When he had been very young, it had been looking toward the future, all hope and certainty. Now, the wake of violence, of lost friends, of pain, seemed to follow him wherever he went. Bones a reminder across the Throne. Stones behind it, glinting without the warm flesh and fur that had once carried them. And here--a visit Pride made almost daily--Tenzin's pool, crystalline and coldly, bitterly empty. Oh, he was down there; but he was not well and he had deserved far better than what he had been given. That was Pride's life, then: tend to the stones of the dead, though they needed no tending, and visit the sleeping phoenix who had once been so kind.

For a time he stood at the edge of the lagoon, focusing his magic on the useless little kindness he always spent, here. He wasn't sure why--Tenzin was certainly asleep--but it was... a promise, of sorts, that the phoenix was not forgotten.

He stood quiet, staring into the falls, lost in thought and memory; and it was the gentle tinkling of a breaking chrysalis that roused him from it. A sound he was more than familiar with, now; and with a spark of interest (almost desperate; anything to pull him from his melancholy), he turned toward it.

Pale hooves carried him forward, clicking on the stone, and he wound his way around the shore of the lagoon. The spray of the waterfall glistened across his coat as he drew closer to the wall, and--there.

A pale shape, among the ruins of a chrysalis; a shape turned, grooming itself, but-...

A shape oddly familiar.

Pride came to a halt a little ways away, hesitating, trying to figure out why this stranger--this child--should seem so known to him. The shape-? It was pale, yes, but the way it was twisted he couuld hardly make it out completely. No-... Those hind legs, those were the legs of a fawn-? And the tail, the wings... A child of Tenzin? he thought, tentatively, not yet putting two and two correctly together. And he wouldn't, perhaps, until he saw her face.

"Hello, little one," he offered, head gently tilting, blinking at the fawn-bird. "My name is Pride--do you know yours?" Each word was soft, delicate--he knew not to overwhelm the new with speech.

Eyes dropped to trace the chrysalis shards. Those are Tenzin's, he realized--and then, worriedly, I hope that he did not--perish? Was this his child--or his replacement?

His rebirth?

@Jampa

The tail feathers aren't too much of a mess, and for the most part they lay flat, stuck only by the chrysalis goo. A little bit of tugging and some preening help to separate the worst of them. The taste is of something vaguely sweet and sour, like blueberries. The girl is pleased with her work; she sighs as she lifts away from the tail feathers, turning just in time to see a spectre-like shape emerge from along a rocky ledge.

As this shape approaches she stares after it with coquettish abandon; the regal bearing of the stranger is not lost on her. It is not a true attraction which prompts her attention but something along the lines of narcissism. It feels as if she is looking upon herself somehow. She doesn't know what she looks like exactly, cannot fathom it yet, but there is some familiarity to be absorbed while she watches him.

He greets her, offering a title. No, a name - that's what he'd called it. His name was @Pride. Her ears fan forwards to gather up his lovely voice. "-do you know yours?" Her.. name?

A shy smile bloomed across her face as she pondered this, growing warmer by the second. A little nod follows, and a soft reply of: "Jam..pa. I am Jampa." A pause. New eyes blinking owlishly as she draws closer to him with delicate steps. Maybe he would not hear her over the rumbling; oh, she wished the rumbling would stop! It was so loud that it hurt her head.

Pride froze, breath catching, as the feathered fawn lifted her head to look at him. It was, for the briefest of instants, the same for him: like a mirror, a reflection in some ways of himself.

His mind snapped back to Tenzin. To himself, sending magic down--had Tenzin died? Had Pride's magic revived-... Was this his child? Is this my child..? Desperately he was counting, trying to number up the days--and it added up. It added up.

Exhale. A shaky breath, an uncertain one, as wonder twinned with this sudden fear and why was he afraid?

"Jampa," he said gently, and his voice surprised him with its own steadiness, the kindness in it, no trace of his sudden shock in any waver. "It's very good to meet you." Dumb silence, for a moment. How did one say, "I think I am your father?" And what if he was wrong-?

Best to look first for Tenzin-... Perhaps he'd have the answers. He offered Jampa a kind expression. "I believe you may be the child-..." Ahh, but a moment-... It would be hard for one so young to understand his meaning. He had a habit, a way of offering understanding with his words: a mind-connection to help in teaching. Pride reached out his mind--a tentative link, uninvasive, but a magic that offered meaning twinned alongside his words. Something that meant that as he spoke, he was explaining, straight to Jampa's mind, what he meant. So as he said, gently, softly, "I believe you may be the child of Tenzin. He is a creature that sleeps within this lagoon," he was showing her images, sending her meaning. Of Tenzin, shimmering feathers and cascading ice; of the Master curling within the icy waters. No sign of the violence, no--nothing of Dhracia, of blood, of what he'd found here. Only peace, and crystalline cold, and diamond-bright glints of ice. "We can try and speak to him, if you wish?" he offered, careful not to overwhelm her, to flood her with his own confusing thoughts.

Pride took a step or two toward the water's edge, peering in with ears swept forward, hoping beyond hope that the kindly Master yet lived.

And wondering what this child meant.

Is she mine-..? What if she is not? Should I--take her in, but what if I am wrong? Does it matter? Or is she Tenzin's--is he all right, his to raise-... Luckily by now the mental link had slipped shut; Pride's thoughts and emotions were in riot.

(gm tagging for Tenzin, and @Jampa !)

For just under a cycle, he had been resting—fathoms deep in the lagoon. The Gembound that had come to him had been generous with their own stores, but they could not have hoped to restore him fully. All the rest was up to him.

Nevertheless, he stirred for the first muffled crack! of gemstone and the flood of a new being entering the world. The babe's aura refracted off the waves, cascading over his icy confines. It was such a gentle, alluring song. Tenzin swept aside an ice floe with one wing. (Without his magic's hold, it bobbed to the surface; the ever-moving waters broke apart on a stone.) Two bodies moved closer to the water's edge.

Carefully, oh-so-gently, he rose. He didn't want to disturb the lagoon too much, lest the waves rise up and sweep over the child and—ah, the stag.

The icy phoenix unfurled his wings as he broke the surface, regally stepping across its shimmering face. His gaze fixed first on Pride, with a quiet, unknowable look; then, to the child, still wet in her newness. From the moment he found the Turquoise embedded into her skull, Tenzin knew: this was what had come of Pride's sacrifice, his kindness.

"Jampa..." came his voice, a tinge of sadness laced within its cool tone; and, not a breath after, a knowing smile. Within his chest, his heart lurched—was it his magic that bestowed such a name upon her? The worry did cross his mind: he hoped he had not condemned her, simply by passing some of his will on to her, her life growing for that short period in the aura of the lagoon. But, he did not relay this to them.

"That is a very kind name," he commented, smiling again.

Whether it was cruel fate or a blessing, she had taken the name of Dawa's mother. A woman long deceased and nearly forgotten; they'd met her only once, by happenstance... he urged the thought away.

His gaze shifted to Pride. "Ours," he suggested, eyes falling back to the babe. "Our Jampa."

@Jampa

What was that look upon his face...? Tremulous with worry. Shaken deeply by the name she spoke, or maybe it was her own face that jarred him so. Was she not beautiful? Did she not look as pristine as he did, so stalwart, carved of marble white?

Her smile did not falter; Jampa had no reason to doubt herself yet, she was too new. She trusted him - this man with the soft voice and sad eyes. The strength in his voice was cold strength, as if he were closing a part of himself off to something he did not want to face. The girl could not read so far in to it: she only pondered innocently over what she saw before her.

A sad man, trying so hard not to be. And when he spoke it was stunted too. @Pride mentioned, 'I believe you may be the child...' And as his voice tapered off (either to emotion or with purposeful silence) Jampa's mind was infiltrated, within which images began to play out. Some crossed in to others. They were there but not there, colors and scenes and voices - oh! It was wonderful!

She was shown a different shape: not fawn-like in the slightest, but a radiant blue creature with wings - a sharper contour to the face, without the spade-nose of Pride of herself. It was an odd creature to look at throughout the flashes; Jampa could not help thinking, 'So smooth! Why is my face different...?'

'I believe you may be the child of Tenzin. He is a creature that sleeps within this lagoon.' Pride explained as the images flashed through her mind. As they faded and Jampa was left slack-jawed with a childish awe, she gave a small nod in response. Yes, she would like that. Meet the pretty thing - this Tenzin!

She pranced closer to the pale man, her steps so light because of her hollow bird bones; a blessing of one father built in to a new shape. The girl moved carefully alongside Pride and approached the water, and as she came to the edge so too came the sharp profile beneath the water's surface. It rose to break the tension there and she could not help but sink back against Pride, pressing against his warmth.

'Jampa...' came her name upon a voice that was so alike Pride's, yet still so different, she could not help but glance at the pale stag before looking to the tired eyes of the phoenix. Why was he so sad? Why were they both like this? 'That is a very kind name.'

"Um... hello, Tenzin." lilts her own voice, and Jampa advances towards the water's edge again so that she may properly meet this other creature. She traces the contours of his face with her eyes and when he shifts his attention she hastily looks down at the rippling water, face warm with bashfulness.

It all floated past him, uncertain, sparks of hope and warmth and fear, and then two gentle words cut through it with the gift of certainty.

'Our Jampa.'

Mine, then-... She is mine? She is mine-... he realized. Emotion rose in him in a roiling tumult. He'd formed children before--few, and with close friends. They had shared a bond, and shared the raising of those children, and he was close to them even now--this would be the same, certainly it would but the surprise of it-! Before him now stretched fatherhood once again, with its careful teachings and gentle support, the warmth of family. Unexpected, an ambush that Pride, for all his calculations, never could have seen.

He could feel her pressed against his flank, his child, and he leaned down toward her. Delicate, careful to keep his antlers' sharp points from her, he pressed his face to her for a moment. It was gentle affection, fatherly warmth and now he could allow it; now he was certain. "I am your father, too," he told her, softly. A glance, a nod to Tenzin, gratitude in his eyes, emotion overcoming him.

A soft clear of his throat as he struggled to get ahold of himself. It was overwhelming.

"Our Jampa," he agreed softly. "I wasn't aware, I--hadn't meant-... But," ah, and he'd never say "she was an accident," not like that--phrasing now, delicate dancing around meaning; "I am glad," he finished quietly. "I hope you are recovering," Pride added, his voice soft. He had seen--he hadn't wanted to see. He'd seen the aftermath. The blood and feathers. The horror of it. He'd seen Raheerah's body melt, the agonized bellowing. He'd seen Jupiter, torn apart, consumed alive. Tenzin had been the third and how he'd mourned-! The kind Master deserved better.

And perhaps now, he had something-...

Pride's eyes widened, ferocity sparking white fire in his chest at a new realization. If she seeks punishment, she will look to those close to him. She may look to this one, he thought, and the protective fury he suddenly felt--instinctive, abrupt, but true--roared up in him. Pale eyes sought out Tenzin, and very carefully, he spoke. Oh, it wasn't pleasant to address--though the child would remain ignorant of his meaning, past his dancing words--but best to say it now, for her sake.

"Astraea," he said carefully, "has promised that we may keep our... second generations, should another come for them. I do not know how well others can be held to that. For example, those who may seek... leverage." A dip of his head. Perhaps, then, Tenzin could invoke Astraea's promise, should Dhracia seek to use Jampa in the future--as leverage. As punishment.

Oh, if only he knew-...

Enough of that.

Enough of that.

Pride leaned down to Jampa again. "I will stay with you, if you want, yes? I have many things that I can show you. Many kind Gembound you could meet, in time, and many beautiful places we might visit." Again he was gentle, warm, the fire a heated one but only warmth to his own child. "Would you like that-?" With it came the delicate mind-link, a tentative thing and barely there--a breath of magic and little more. The meaning of his words was scarce, on the tail of it; brief and fleeting, uncertain images of a kind-faced white lion, of a green grove filled with lights, of a starshimmer violet cave-ceiling sky.

He glanced to Tenzin, then, and there was fear in his eyes for what might be.