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depression

disordered eating

It was bird-watching.

Multi-colored spinners chased after their pileated caroller cousins, all flicking flight feathers and courting song. A brighter one might impress a duller one, press beak against beak, snip-snip-snip. Another one might fail to impress and simply watch as their prospects winged away. New arrivals were met with a chorus of noise. Breaks were taken only to scatter for seeds and the sweet nectar of Leo's new blooms.

Alpha hadn't known that this cave had flowers when it brushed against their buds one day. It barely acknowledged them past that point. It did not think of Zoisite and its grab for attention being shirked.

It hardly acknowledged anything but food and drink, anymore. It ate whatever happened into its path—always some stupid deer or rabbit—and rarely actively hunted. The meat always felt dry and tasteless as it choked it down. Fruit had no appeal and were left for the bats. Leo's water was always gritty, sandy, no matter where it went. Alpha was always torturously hot, even in the shade, panting away and half-heartedly lapping up the condensation from its cracked and peeling chitin. There was not enough hunting to sustain its overactive metabolism, so it overslept and existed in a perpetual sort of... haze.

Some weight had been gained back, but none of it was the solid muscle it'd had before. Not even after that time... Nemesis? (... right?) had come.

How long ago had that been? It hadn't let itself see or be seen by anyone in so long. A flicker of non-Lesser movement sent it scurrying for cover, and it kept to the undergrowth where it could. Spotting Dread's silhouette once over the horizon kept it from ever venturing back toward the beaches again. Its den resembled a terrible monster's more and more every day, what with the stink of death and decay, the old bloodstains and barely-cleaned bones.

Nobody it knew had come ever looking for it.

When it was lucid enough to contemplate that, it didn't know how to feel. How to feel—

Did it miss home?

Where was home?

Not here, it didn't think—this was... this was temporary. Until it could—until it could apologize—for what?

To—to who?

If nobody came for it, it... it wasn't important. Relevant. Alpha didn't care about that, it knew, because it was a cog in the machine. It thought it wanted to be more than just that, but... it couldn't. It wasn't good enough. It needed to apologize. Vargas—it remembered him, always after a while (how could it forget the way it felt when he—)—sent it away because of that. It was too fragile to be told that it was of no more use, but why wasn't it dead and recycled—

Orthoclase-Alpha thought about none of these things as it stared blankly through the birds in the trees. Spinners and carollers would gallivant branch-to-branch, and it did not move its head to follow them. Haunted, sunken eyes just... stared from beneath the cover of bushes. It was halfway between crouching and just lying down, propped up on its shaky forearms.

It wasn't really bird-watching.

@Garnet-Delta

If it had, maybe it would have seen the Garnet perched among the birds, claws sunk deep into a branch, crimson eyes gleaming as it observed. For the past four cycles, it made infrequent trips down to Leo, tracking down the Orthoclase, the only one who had proven worthy before the fall, watching. Waiting.

How often had the Garnet distracted a greater before it drew to close, leading strangers away before they found its clutchmate? A lesser bolting at the right moment into a greater's path, a distant crash to draw attention elsewhere, or a hidden voice whispering in their ear; time, and time, and time again. The Orthoclase would never know. In fact, no one would. As far as their Master knew, the Garnet was ignorant of where the Orthoclase had even gone.

It intended to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, time was running out for Alpha. A darkness stirred in the assassin's mind, one that spoke of comeuppance and death to those who had failed again and again. This was how it was made to think, perhaps not by any one individual (not even its Master) but by its own nightmares and fears and, yes, ambition. So why, then, was it here? Was there something else--?

The Garnet waited for a while, watching, doing nothing as it often did. Surveying. Master Vargas would find the Orthoclase soon enough; it did not try to hide, not truly. It scrambled away to the same den day in and day out, its own decay-filled scent now burned into the hillside. There had to be an answer. The Garnet dug deep into its magic, trying to take hold of the Orthoclase's mind, to find some semblance of life, of thought, of anything it could use, and instead-- nothing. Only static.

There's no way, the Garnet's inner most thoughts whispered from afar, cast out to the Orthoclase. At first, so faint it might not have even noticed, carried on a prickling feeling of dread. Of worry. And for once, not interlaid with selfish intent; because the Garnet's life was not on the line in the slightest. No. This concern? It could only come from... I've watched for cycles and it's only gotten worse. What am I going to do when Vargas finds it? It was the only one worth anything-- The winged feline's nose twitched, its muscles tensing. What do I say?

@Orthoclase-Alpha

It didn't notice the intrusion—not at first, anyways—so thickly mired in that haze of blankness that it paid little mind to anything else. An idle movement or crackling twig wouldn't have broken this... catatonic state. Luck had it that breathing was a completely automatic process; the orthoclase would have passed out by now, or those dim eyes would have gone out entirely ages ago.

Yet... its head shifted minutely. Like a statue creaking to life beneath the light of the moon, it moved a few degrees. Gut sinking deep, adrenaline roaring its whims through its limbs, the monstrous hybrid withdrew further into the brush. Eyes narrowed into a half-squint, and it trudged through instinctual risk assessment. A noise. A something cutting through its anything-but-wistful reverie.

It took far too long for it to even realize that it'd been a voice. Even longer to pick apart the words. Even longer to recognize the source.

Alpha tensed, locking up tight, and nearly bolted then and there. Quills threatened to rise up and betray its location, but it forced them down. It crouched lower, belly settling against the loamy earth. Putrescent green eyes searched and roamed the trees, a half-forgotten thread of magicka sparking tumultuously.

There (where?) in the branches (how did I...) among the birds (its stomach clenched painfully, a common sensation) was—

Fear shot cold through its entire body. The forceful palpitation of its heart speeding up into a new, frantic rhythm nearly sent it into a coughing fit. Red eyes, keen, cunning, killing—the monstrous hybrid cowered further into the brush (futile, it knew, to hide from that) with the noise of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. Its entire body shook. It couldn't breathe.

It wasn't ready yet, it wasn't ready, it—

@Garnet-Delta

The Garnet and the Orthoclase's eyes met. Recognition beneath that fog that Cain couldn't penetrate. How? It had never noticed the Garnet before, why now, why then? It was perfectly blended into the birds above, even a red sense would typically been fooled, unless... Had it sensed Cain's magic? But--

No matter.

Its wings spread as the Orthoclase cowered like prey. Pupils narrow slits of darkness in a sea of red, it reached out with its magic once more to grasp the beast and command it still; to silence the quaking fear so it would listen, so that Cain could deliver its warning and...

Something snapped. Magic, which had already failed terribly once, bucked at the Garnet's attempted, panicked reach for control. Hadn't this happened before, little Garnet? Hadn't you tried to bridge this gap, only to fall into a terrible storm?

The Garnet's limbs seized as it started to push off, and immediately, without wings shifting to catch the air, it plummeted like a stone into the underbrush. There was a startled cry, a pathetic mewl, one that was cut short as it hit the bush bellow and tumbled into the dirt, its body briefly not its own.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

The garnet crashed down to earth, cry broken off by impact, and it spasmed on the ground. Birds silenced themselves and scattered into the air.

On uncurbed instinct, Alpha jolted away. Limbs struck out to their full lengths, shoved sideways, and it was halfway to doing a full one-eighty before crashing into a solid trunk it hadn't known was there. Its mouth cracked open only to mime a startled yelp; not an ounce of sound other than strangled, whistling breath came out. Leaves whirlibirded their way down past its face as it whipped around to stare back at Delta. Eyes narrowed further as its neck pulled taut and sore.

Caught like a deer in headlights in the silence, the monster just... stared. Stood there.

Its mind was slow to start.

Trap, was its first feeble, struggling thought, as it continued to try desperately to find a handhold away from its prior stupor. It was meant to come closer. Assume nothing. Do nothing. Turn its back and find some lethal twist of the neck awaiting. Alpha could not put a name to that face, but it knew, it knew what it was capable of. Thrashing wings and claustrophobic space, staring into its own crooked jaws flashed into mind, faint and addled as it was.

The garnet could put on a convincing act, but why would it bother with one before—

Jaws gaped, panting. It was stood halfway in a patch of sunlight, and it was just so hot—

The next thought was far more wary: a... mistake? The assassin—that's the word—hadn't meant to fall. Magical misfire, like when Vargas would try to control it or anything else by way of blood. (Why did it remember that, and little good?) Maybe it had time to make its escape? Find somewhere it couldn't be tracked? Water, water, water—no, no, it was too slow. The garnet would recover eventually and chase it. Nemesis had cornered it. This had magic. It'd catch it.

Kill it. Alpha took a step back and shook its head. Should it?

Quills rattled as it took a step forward. One foot always hovered in the air, indecisive. Hooked, overgrown talons flexed perceptibly. It worked its jaw, parting it as if to speak, but then abruptly snapped it shut again. Its gaze fluttered with each jagged breath. Quills rattled again, and it took another unsteady step forward—a longer one, this time, eating up the ground between it and Delta's prone form. Another, far more hesitant (with many a glances spared to its surroundings and the cat itself, half-expecting retribution) step, and it loomed over.

Gleaming red eyes peered out from the shadow it cast.

The monster crouched down low, massive skull approaching in wary starts and stops. If Delta breathed particularly hard, it jolted back and nearly made to stand up.

Teeth broke apart, and the orthoclase lurched forward with jaws snapping. It faintly remembered the buzz of a live wire in its jaws, and finally made an actual sound: a sort of whine echoing from the bottom of its abused throat, muffled by cat's fur and the growing sting of blood on its tongue. Leathery wing membrane tore on hooked teeth as it jerked back. Delta nearly came up with its head, but it managed to drop the little beast before backpedaling with quills flared high.

It'd just attacked—it'd—no, no, no, it—Vargas would kill it for that.

It wasn't ready to die. It didn't want to see the other side.

@Garnet-Delta

Oh, the Garnet could do nothing but watch. True fear, one that it had felt in the hearts of its prey, day in and day out, blossomed from its own chest. It fought for control of its magic, fought for control of its body, fought for its life... and yet, how helpless.

Orthoclase-Alpha was the only one to ever see its weakness.

Teeth snapped at it; life flashing before its eyes. The Orthoclase knew how to kill, even when it was half-alive, it destroyed deer and rabbits stumbling into its path without flinching. The Garnet should have been no different. Teeth snatched its wing, tearing the limb from socket, nearly yanking the whole thing from its flesh; before the Orthoclase let go, letting the mangled hybrid fall to the floor once more.

It could move again, but there was no way it could fly. In this condition, it certainly couldn't outrun the Orthoclase. So what was it to do? The Garnet shuttered, gasping and biting back tears and whimpers, steeling itself as it felt more agony that it had ever experienced in its life.

Its clutchmate, precious Orthoclase-Alpha, all muscle and power and strength, somehow a beacon of safety yet the only creature to ever hurt it. Was there something poetic in that? Or was it just sad. Now they both trembled, shaking, stripped down bare to basic instinct.

One thought shuttered through the Garnet-- through Delta's mind-- Master Vargas could not be witness to this, to its injuries. He would ask, and Delta would be forced to tell the truth, or lie, there would be no way around it. Its vision filled with hot white spots of pain, wing laying limply over it, the smell of blood and Alpha's foul breath stinging its nostrils.

Instinct screamed to run anyway. To hide. To fight back with magic, to defend itself. It clenched its jaw, and fought every urge with tears pricking its eyes.

"Idiot," Delta hissed through its teeth, "I came to warn you, you-- you selfish--" Teeth snapped tight over its tongue. It needed to heal, but its magic refused to listen to its frightened master. It pushed itself to its feet and felt a molten knife driven deep into its shoulder blade; it couldn't hold its weight well on its front leg, either.

Crimson eyes burned up at the Orthoclase, trying to hold some semblance of control in the encounter. If Alpha wanted to, it could kill Delta.

And yet.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

And yet, Orthoclase-Alpha backed away.

Vargas would find out what it'd done, and he would come and tear it to ribbons. Sink teeth in deep and do damage far worse than— than— it screwed its eyes shut and shook its head. Bloodstained jaws gasped and clenched, flanks seizing in a way oh-so-similar to how the garnet's did. Not with vivid agony, of course, but… it was frozen in place; trapped beneath a rock (aptly named "fear") and a hard place (peculiarly named "guilt.") Its stomach sank deep into its gut, unwilling to move from that spot. Acidic bile clawed up its gullet. The taste of blood was the most intense thing it'd experienced in—

Alpha sucked in a wheezing breath. "H-how..." its voice pitched painfully high, throat abused in just a single syllable. A second, far quieter attempt was made. "H… long... How—" The stutter was horribly apparent. Its eyes creased upwards in a grimace, and it tipped its head up and to the side.

It seemed, for a moment, that it hadn't even bothered to listen to what the cat—what was its name? designation?—hissed out; but, it belatedly parsed it and it managed to shamble further back. "Wh—" was all it managed before a spasming cough broke out of it, tears pricking in the corners of its eyes. Shutting its mouth did little to muffle that little weakness, since it rocked through its entire body.

It backpedaled, always keeping a forearm lifted. Indecision.

@Garnet-Delta

The Orthoclase retreated. The part-cat, feral, injured beast lurched forward, hissing and spitting twice as viciously, emboldened by the mammoth's retreat. The fear was gone for an instant, replaced by anger, by spite, by a fury that came with the need to protect itself.

"That's right, run!" It snapped, teeth bared with saliva flicking from the incisors with every word. "Master Vargas is sick of waiting for you!" Driving home the knife, brandishing it like a mugger in an alley, "He's coming! So run and hide, like everyone else does! You're just like them!"

The little feline puffed up, staggering forward, tail lashing, ears pinned back and claws exposed. "Just like Beta, just like Epsilon, just like Chaos-Two-- you are better than that! You were supposed to be better than that!" Fur bristled, adrenaline surging in to fuel the full blown tantrum.

Again, it pulled for its magic, perhaps more subconsciously than ever, but there was something holding it back. Something keeping the reigns from its claws, something leaving it defenseless all but for its barking.

"Take your warning and GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

@Orthoclase-Alpha

"Master Vargas is sick of waiting for you!"

Alpha winced. It recoiled, lurching back as if it'd been struck. Coiling up onto the defensive, and feeling a live wire between its teeth. It violently seesawed between hyperfocusing the way Leo was too quiet, too loud and the sting of blood on its tongue, vile and metallic. Hooked claws buried themselves in the earth. They tore through clumps of sod and hit bedrock. They clenched as if they could brace it against the magnitude 9 tremors rocking through its form.

"He's coming!" "You're just like them!" "You are better than that!"

The nail in the coffin?

"You were supposed to be better than that!"

It froze where it'd been sulking away from the hissing, spitting cat. Stood wide-eyed and froze. Not a single quill shifted out of unkempt place. Not a single whistling breath whistled through its broken—and never reset—nose. It just… lingered; halfway to catatonic again, growing distant.

Eyes glazed over with a thin layer of cellophane, but it just shook its head with another squinting grimace. Its mane sagged and it shrunk further away into the brush.

"'m… s-... sorry." The muttered line was hoarse and barely audible.

It turned and, despite everything it'd rallied for in its entire life, ran; ran, with "just like the rest of them!" blaring through its conscience.

attempted exit
@Garnet-Delta

The Orthoclase fled.

Maybe it would run straight into their Master. Maybe, it would buy itself more time. The Garnet slumped to the earth as it crashed away, gasping for breath through the tremors of pain. Adrenaline was wearing thin, shock soon to come.

Its magic. It needed to heal. Surely it knew how.

As soon as it was alone, the magic came limping back like a beaten dog, slotting back into place within its stone. Its wing snapped up, bones crunching, as magic crashed through the Overseer's body. Muscle reknit. Skin stitched together. It was absolute agony, the Garnet's vision swimming.

But it was alone now, and among the bushes, it probably looked no more like an injured bird. It didn't want to stay there, lest something come along and try to eat it, so as soon as the magic healed its body, it forced itself to its feet and took flight, scrambling up into the trees. It found a place among the branches to settle, shuttering, and stared out into the forest.

The distant crashing quieted.

Cain felt its eye lids heavy, but it didn't allow itself sleep. It watched, not wanting to be caught off-guard. It did allow itself rest, swallowing breaths, letting its limbs stop shaking.

Shock did find itself a home in the feline's heart. So to did numbness. Cain felt nothing at all, because it was easy. Because it was simpler than the alternative... And, once it had recovered, it could make its way home and put the whole affair behind it. It tucked its head under its wing, grooming the blood and saliva from its fur, and then from its wing.

Some more rest, until it could stand without shaking, and then it would return to its duties.

@Orthoclase-Alpha for visibility ; delta exit