Getting angry—well and truly upset—was so far out of character for him, but the monotony of something as silly as this was ridiculous. A project that should've taken only a half hour or so was now clocking in at about four or five (depending on how long he'd rested for.) Were he not so dead-set on at least finishing something and leaving it on his daughter's doorstep, Aure would've given up long ago.

Determination was all he had to sink his teeth into; and he did so, hard.

A short huff escaped him. "Hacking away at the same thing over and over again never helped anyone, has it?" For the moment, he turned away from the trident's head. There was a bare patch of ground just in front of him. Extending a claw to fill it, he felt around with his magic.

Gentle white caps sprouted to fill the space his foot left when he withdrew it.

"Hah," he laughed to himself. Bright eyes flickered every which-way, in case anyone might be listening to the Bone King at his wits' end, chattering to himself and some fungi. No one was around, so he continued, "stick to what I know."

Aure bid more caps grow amid the first few. His touch was tentative and gentle. Don't be a fluke, he urged. But, that was jinxing it. Breath whistled out from his beak and he jerked his head reflexively. Hoping and praying didn't work; not asking anything at all didn't work. Studying the work of others had to barely a point. Even that had fallen apart at some point.

The wyvern shuffled his wings. He ought stop here and now.

But, one more shot—

It always kept going with the one more chances. A recursive sequence of seeking validation, receiving a blip of it, and craving that same feeling again. The young King could fall prey to and chase it all he wanted, but destiny knew that he would not find it. All the Powers That Be vied against him, like he'd committed some travesty against reality by exploring what transcendence meant.

Caves, if only he knew.

Aure paced a slow circle, and frilly red caps grew in his wake.

That cast had been wholly subconscious. A stirring of influence he hadn't meant to dispense. It didn't go unnoticed.

Bright eyes twisted down to meet the caps. He paused mid-step, setting those claws down to watch fruiting bodies force their way out of the otherwise inhospitably hard Orion ground. "It's a lot to grow here, isn't it," Aure murmured softly to them, tail flicking a lazy rhythm, "perhaps that's it." Canis had little dirt, too; but his fungus had always taken easy root in the newer bones and carcasses of Lessers.

"We should go to... erm, what is it called..." His head lifted. Eridanus. That's it. Soil, moisture, rot—all those essentials—resided there. The young King could not think of the last time he'd ever ventured into that cave; or, even in its general direction. He could hardly think of the last time he'd gone further than here. Perhaps there was good reason for it.

... yes.

If he were going, he could at least spare the courtesy of cleaning up. He made a tentative grab for the trident, though he was unsure how much heat it retained yet. Aure closed around it with all intention to take it up in his own beak, but found himself reflexively pulling on a surge of magicka. It latched on, cleanly hoisting up the head. His own rose to stare at it, ears pricking.

Best make it quick, then.

The young King came upon what was possibly the smallest creek he'd ever seen in his life. It couldn't have stretched further than his own length across. A single, bounding step was enough to ford it. Grasp slipping on the trident just barely with his periphery, Aure alighted and let it clatter into the waters. Small as the source was, the water moved fairly quickly. It'd polish off whatever soot it could before he added his personal touches.

... whatever they may be.

He stooped low for a drink upstream, considering. A pleasantly-glowing artifact might be nice, though that might count as defacing history. Bright eyes spared the metalwork a glance. Nature had done more ill to it than he could have possibly done. It seemed as if it were missing a spike and would be permanently lopsided. Aure thought it held charm.

The hybrid toed his way down the creek, wading up to his hocks and dipping his trousers in it. His beak sought out the metal piece. Its deceptive heaviness had him flicking it out of the water and skipping it across the ground, but a panicked search revealed no apparent new cracks or scrapes.

All things considered: it looked rather alright. It wasn't the polished perfection of Eythan's never-used metal claws, but it was something. The sentimental value would be alright enough (he hoped.) Aure bowed, though, to follow up on his earlier train of thought. His beak grazed the metal warily, and, sure enough: it glowed warmly.

Covers up the scratches pretty well, he mused, or distracts you from them. Either way, Aure had a curious high point to coast through—lest it crash with him at its peak.

Wings beat at the air, talons grappled for a grip on surprisingly slippery-when-wet metal, and he made the short hop to a little alcove no higher than ten feet off the ground. He dove to be level with it—and nearly sent himself crashing with the extra weight throwing momentum around—and swept by. The doctor is not in, the young King thought to himself, with no small amount of fatherly enthusiasm.

A pair of fungal footprints—the right broken-up by the silhouette of a metallic curve—marked the spot where he alighted and hobbled forwards.

Aure didn't loiter around the place—he'd not been invited to. Barely a glance was spared to any of the memorabilia inside, given that the homeowner was not present to show off what she wished. It was best to maintain the element of surprise and wonderment. No spoilers. His eyes did, however, fall upon the windchimes singing softly in the gentle breeze. They creased up with a slight smile.

He stepped off of the glimmering trident (it ought be called a bident, unfortunately close as it was to a different object's spelling) and tilted himself down. His beak tugged at it, pulling it this way and that with jerks of his entire body. It shouldn't be in plain view, but hidden away enough that no passersby might think it was free to take. Thievery wasn't typically on one's mind as far as problems were concerned, but... alas.

Once an optimal placement—a good few feet into the center of the cove—had been discovered, the wyvern paced a slow circle around it, giddy with his own success. A rather conspicuous ring of harmless red fungi would do good as a signature.

Then, he heel-turned and headed for home on sore wings.

exit Aure