Pollen wanted a dog. Okay, wait- Pollen knew the whole thing with Emuh, where he tested you and unlocked more magic and stuff. There would be no chance she'd get a dog- Aethril was special, anyways, and she was just a little green thing. Well, then- maybe she'd get good at plant magic, then.

Besides, she liked being in Polaris. It was a long trek, but she got to pass by the Ursa tunnel again, give it a second cursory glance. She doubted she could find some hidden chrysalis without Aethril's help. Polaris, on the other hand? While it took some time to get there, it was an excellent practicing place, where the magic flowed freely from the Spire.

Plus, it's where Emuh lived.

It wasn't too hard to pinpoint his little hole-in-the-wall given Aethril's directions. The muta had been trotting along the walls, searching for it, her pelt tense with excitement. What would it be like? Would she succeed? What would happen if she failed?

She paused in front of the dark hole. There was a moment of reconsideration- Aethril knew where she was going, but was she ready herself? Pollen's jaw worked before she stood up at her towering height of approximately four feet. She might as well get it over with, right?

"Emuh!" She called out, cupping her mouth with both front paws. "I wanna take a trial! I know the um- risks!" Was that step one: knowing what she was facing? She'd already aced that, she thought. At least, she hoped.

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

"WHO-OOH COMES?"

The black shape that slammed down before Pollen an instant later--like a judge's gavel--stared down at Pollen. Shimmering heat and embers swathed its form--an aura that shifted to a soft, muted green glow as it stared with emerald eyes.

Emuh did not know who Pollen was, only vaguely that she was a Valkhand's pet. Past that he--from his hidey-hole here--hadn't seen much of her, and so his critical regard now became true scrutiny. "YOU? WANT A TRIAL!?" he demanded, and then laughed, a raucous harsh caw more suited to a sick crow than to an owl.

"VERY WELL, THEN. LET'S SEE... AHH! EMUH KNOWS JUST THE ONE..." The mocking laughter that came on the tail end of this statement might have been concerning to some. Emuh turned, taking flight in a ruffling of black feathers, vanishing off into the shadows.

__________

Pollen was left alone in a dark cave the size of a gymnasium. For a moment, it seemed empty: bare and without a hint as to what to do. But a moment later, the room itself churned into motion.

Where Emuh's trial cave often became rocky and treacherous, or claustrophobic or even labyrinthine, it now became... there was no word for it aside from "gruesome." What looked like blood began to slick the walls, streaming down in rivulets, the metallic odor rank and hot. Then flesh started bubbling from the porous stone, at first in little pink and white nodules; these seemed to twitch and crawl across the wall, spreading until the entire cave was one immense and pulsing mass of skin. The ceiling, the walls: all flesh, stinking and hot, trembling with false life.

The floor of the cave, however, was now rich earth: and a number of tiny seedlings (baby trees, if Pollen were familiar with saplings) only a few inches high grew here and there in the soil.

For a moment, all went quiet: Pollen was left alone in a cave of pulsating flesh, saplings shining with promise underfoot.

Then... everything trembled.

The ceiling made an ominous grinding sound, and shook heavily--and then dropped lower by several inches. An enormous stalactite--no, a huge shard of bloodied bone--shot down and into the dirt a few yards away with incredible pressure behind it.

The flesh-cave, it seemed, was beginning to collapse as quickly as it had formed. And Emuh was nowhere to be found.

@Pollen

Even with warning, Emuh was still a lot to take in. Her whole body wanted to flinch, but she tried her best to stand strong, only trembling a little. "I do!" she protested, her hands balling up as she stood a little taller. Emuh knew the one- and who was he, to reject a trial? She wanted this!

And then, she was alone.

As the cave twisted and came alive, Pollen waited for it, adjusting her bandana like one would adjust their hat. She would be ready- she had her bead, her whips. She could take on anything. Except- maybe that. A grimace took over her face at the pulsating flesh that took over the walls, disgusted as recognition took over her. She hadn't seen flesh like normal carnivores would- her diet consisted of good salads and Nedies-cooked meat.

So when she saw the living cave, illness washed over her. There was a moment of just trying to keep her lunch, a feeling quickly stuffed down for her to focus.

Her head shot up at the grinding. The next noise was the growth, and she jumped, a little yelp escaping her. Yeah, she expected hardship, but flesh caves? "What the FUCK!" Panic rolled through her mind as she backpedalled, her hands clenching in front of her chest. There was soil beneath her, saplings barely piercing through it. There- would trees be enough to hold up the ceiling?

It had to be. Reaching out with her magic, Pollen shot it through the cave without focus- and, perhaps that panic flared back at her. Without warning, pain flared through her chest as the roots of her plants turned on her, curling into her own skin and driving her to double down onto the ground.

That was not good.

The cave jolted. The ceiling of pocked flesh shifted--an abrupt and jarring jerk, as if it had started to fall but something had stopped it a few feet lower down.

But a horrific groaning suggested that it wouldn't stay put for long.

Part of the skin up above--wobbling and pale--tightened across the lowering roof. It stretched... strained... and split, with a horrific ripping sound.

Hot, corrupted blood began to pour down in streams, painting the earth beneath in Oil.

@Pollen

It would be a miracle if Pollen ever got the stench out of her nose. Not just that- even with her mouth closed, it was hitting the scent organs at the roof of her mouth and made her want to gag even more, even through the pain across her body. One hand flew to her face and held her jaw shut as she wobbled back onto two feet, staring up to the waterfall of Oily blood.

Plants couldn't grow in that. If she didn't stop that soon enough, she'd be drowned out in it, swallowed by its corruption like Aethril's magic.

There weren't any plants on the ceiling she could use to charm it shut. There were only the poor saplings- and she wouldn't have a lot of time to use them, it seemed. With one paw still clamped over her mouth, she reached out with the other one to direct all of her being into the nearest young tree, aiming to get it to stretch towards the wound.

Up, up, twisted the tree--craggy limbs spreading, rising up to press against the falling roof of flesh.

Its gray-green bark rose like finger-bones, splayed in a supportive spray beneath the skin. For now, at least, the ceiling stopped its descent; but rivulets of Oily blood now streaked down its bark from the wound nestled in its branches, the rip dripping over its dull foliage in a constant, quiet splatter.

The Oil blood coated the floor, and began to rise around Pollen's feet--a surprising amount of fluid from a single (even if enormous) wound.

1/3

@Pollen

It could not be overstated how disgusted Pollen was. As the blood rose around her feet, she fought back another wav of nausea, raising her bandana to cover her nose and mouth. As if that would help.

But, she needed two hands to focus on this, even as the roots broke in her skin as she raised the other one. Spraying out her digits like the tree, she focused on breaching the skin with its bark, her fingers curling together and locking like a zipper as she struggled to do the same above her. It didn't feel like it would be enough- but she had to do something, before she drowned in blood and Oil.

The sound as the bark and twigs wove through flesh was nothing short of disgusting. Ripping, tearing, squelching sounds filled the air, as the ceiling above became a tapestry of brown bark lines twined through bleeding skin.

The flow of oil slowed.

Some of the roof still sagged; there was still enough Oil flow that it would eventually become problematic, but for now it seemed to be stabilizing. Perhaps a little more repair was all that would be needed-?


2/3

@Pollen

She looked away as the weaving began. The sounds were the main issue- she could feel her stomach roll as she heard it, but soon it... Stopped. The oozing was lessened, but it wasn't enough, not with the sheer size of the wound in the ceiling.

It needed more. Hissing in a disgusting breath through her mouth, Pollen tried to shove the magic upwards to no avail, pain flourishing in her chest again. There was so much of everything. The blood swathed around her feet, and she stumbled back, wheezing out as she brought both hands to her bandana-covered mouth.

She knew it would be hard, but this bordered on traumatizing for a little girl.

Slowly, she trudged towards the tree she grew and slammed one paw on it, the shock curling up those same ingrown roots from before. A muffled cry escaped her as she dry-heaved, blood and Oil flowing down and dripping off her arm as she struggled to remain upright.

The ceiling shifted. Another tear in the flesh opened with another horrific ripping sound, Oil again beginning to flow in. And the flesh jolted downward, too.

It was not a stable flesh room, it would seem: Pollen was racing against the clock to stop it from collapsing, and possibly washing her away in a flood of Oily blood and chunks of meat.

@Pollen