Ember had been working on his magic. This work had been slow, granted--somehow both idle and deeply focused, the hybrid often studiously spending hours just thinking about what it was that he was doing.

Quiet, as always, he'd also taken to prowling the outskirts of Orion and the tunnels beyond for shiny objects he could pilfer. It might have been the dragon in him, but little shining stones and streaks of glinting metal pleased him, and he enjoyed collecting them for no reason other than to admire their beauty in peaceful moments alone.

He had an idea, now, though. He wanted to try and put magic into one of the shiny items. He hadn't decided what, yet--or even how--but he wanted to try it, nonetheless. Pride always said that he could shape magic into anything he wanted, so... why not objects? It wasn't quite what his adopted father'd had in mind, but Ember had gotten it into his head and the dragon-wolf was, if not violent, at least quite stubborn.

He'd made his way to the ruins, to those still standing and less crumbling dust, and begun picking his way through. Some other Gembounds lived there, but he was careful to avoid their homes, instead looking for someplace... darker, quieter, someplace out of the way.

Someplace maybe nobody had searched before, or... at least not for a really long time.

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The stones here were ugly, as it turned out. Blackened, charred, mostly dust or old dark... whatever this rock was. Flat, some it them glinting in places sure but nothing like what he wanted.

Disappointed, he moved on, talking to himself quietly as he went. "Is there anything even here?" he murmured, aloud. This was a habit of his, born of living and wandering alone bar the periodic visits of his family. Shyness had always kept him somewhat separate.

He picked his way up and over a little pile of rubble, and then paused, turning back with one claw-tipped forelimb hanging in the air. "Maybe here," he muttered, and turned back, digging a little underneath himself. Bits of rock were flipped away, sliding down the heap, and Ember paused now and again to sniff as he worked--to see if there was anything more than rock.

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Ember finds a single gemstone hidden among the rubble: a Moonstone, dust-covered but, once cleaned, bright and shining. It is a little smaller than a fist, and smoothly round and polished.

Ember's draconic tail waved out some eight or ten feet along behind him as he dug in like a dog, pausing to sniff now and again at the thing he'd smelled beneath. When at last he pulled it up, he found that it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

And after he'd spent a moment brushing it carefully off with his paw-pads, his fiery eyes widened.

It wasn't a chunk of armor, or a bit of old tool he didn't recognize; it was instead a gemstone, gleaming translucent white just like his other adopted father's. Mercy's stone. He recognized it at once, and puzzled over it: was it some relation to Mercy, somehow-?

Tentative, Ember reached out his magic, looking for any sign that this stone still held life within it. Maybe it'd been someone who'd lived in these ruins, long ago, before they'd crumbled down and fallen-? Or maybe it'd just been decoration, something imbued with magic that had long since worn away?

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The magic Pride had taught him glimmered in the back of his mind, a resonating spark.

Alive.

Ember stared, blinking, taken wholly by surprise.

He'd set out to find objects to enchant, not to find... life. A lost life, nestled in a stone, just awaiting a second chance. He hesitated. Should I do it..? he wondered. Not--here, of course; not now. But--"I could--maybe?--bring you back to life," he murmured, nudging the stone very gently with a wet nose. He rocked back on his haunches, sitting remarkably upright--balanced by his wings--and turned his forelimb to hold the stone carefully in the palm of one hand.

And, eyes wide, he watched it. Turned it slightly, let Orion's dim starlight glint off of its polished surface. "Who did you use to be?" he asked; "-What happened to you?" He wished he knew, but-... it wasn't a question, or rather questions, he was ever likely to get answers to.

He could, however... if he were lucky... bring it new life. But not on a whim. As suddenly attached to the stone as he felt, as suddenly protective, he was also not prone to impulsive decisions. He'd take it back, ask Pride or Mercy or both what they thought about it, and then decide from there. But... in the meantime, he'd take careful care of this stone, keeping it protected and with him at all times. It almost felt like a child to him, despite being only rock.

Well. The moonstone--after staring at it for a good, long while--he folded away behind his clawed digits, and set off again (sort of hobbling) to pick over the remaining ruins.

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It wasn't really surprising that he didn't find anything else straightaway. These ruins were old, and had been picked over a hundred times by other looters and scavengers. The wolf-dragon spent nearly an hour flipping over old bricks, pushing up smashed crystals, and squeezing through gaps in the old alleyways.

By the end of this time he was coated in dust, physically a little tired out and bruised here and there from where stones or walls had toppled or sent him tumbling. He had wings, at least, and he was big, saving him from any real damage. And it occurred to him, after this hour or so of hunting, that he might switch tactics up a little. I am big, he reasoned; probably bigger than a lot of others who come through here searching. I might find more things if I search in a way most can't.
He made up his mind: he'd search by pushing aside the biggest, heaviest rubble he could. Stuff that not just anyone could move, stuff that could only be shifted by a big half-dragon thing (or bigger).

Ember set about doing this at once. Sometimes, he had to carefully set his moonstone down but more often he held it carefully in his jaws as he worked. He'd lean up, putting all his weight and strength into a toppled pillar, shoving it aside with a loud grinding--only to find nothing but dust beneath.

Or he'd fight his way into a narrow gap, throwing aside all the little bricks and dirt that had gathered there, but find nothing underneath.

Undeterred, he pushed on, working his way deeper and deeper into Orion's ruins.

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At last Ember had to pause and rest. He sat back, near perfectly centered now in the ruins--crumbled structures stretching as far as he could see in all directions. He tilted his head back, peering over the nearest low roof as best he could, and again rethought his approach.

"Well," he reasoned aloud--talking again, and this time to the moonstone, held in one careful hand--"I could start up high. On roofs. Not everyone can fly, either." Of course, it could be dangerous--he'd need to be careful, and have his wings ready to take him higher should a roof collapse underfoot. But that shouldn't be too hard; he could fly, after all.

The hybrid lifted into the sky with heavy, thudding wingbeats, stirring dust up underneath. Then he made for the nearest taller structure, one that looked to have a decent amount of crumbly bits. He shifted the moonstone into his mouth--between molars and cheek, so that he looked rather like a lopsided hamster face--and latched to the side of a building, reaching in to pull out loose bricks where they had long since fallen.

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Ember pulled out a strange, flat, rectangular stone--perfectly shaped and angled, about a foot long, four inches wide, and two tall, and most certainly not natural. It felt gritty to the touch, rough yet with a fairly fine grain. Though he might not recognize it as such, it was in fact a whetstone.

"Oh, wow," Ember said (a little muffled by the rock in his mouth), pulling the whetstone free from the rubble. The bricks collapsed in a tumble as he withdrew, and in surprise he launched backward, flapping to stay airborne. He watched some of the ruin crumble--he'd damaged it too much in his fishing around for shiny objects.

It was a shame, but-... he hadn't meant it, and there wasn't all that much he could do about it now.

He lifted the thing he'd recovered, examining it with furrowed brow. He didn't know what it was, but its perfect, sharp angles certainly meant it wasn't natural.

Well-... It'd be pretty cool to mess with, anyway. To try and put magic into or whatever. But-... he wanted one more thing. He didn't know what, yet, but... something else, one other little object to play with. He didn't want to mess with the living gemstone--who knew what trying to put magic into that might do? He might extinguish the little life within, and even the thought of that upset him.

No-... he'd use this Rectangle Thing, and one other thing that he could find.

Even if it turned out to be just a rock.

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Ember took the time, then, to fly back to his little den near the Throne--near Pride--to secure his two new finds. He was careful to make sure he wasn't seen, and when he headed back out it was with a thread of unease.

He knew then that he'd have to talk to his adopted dads sooner, rather than later, about the little living rock.

When he moved out once more it was with urgency: he wanted to find something--anything--cool, and then come back to watch over the gemstone. It just didn't make sense to keep these things tucked under his arm the whole time. I could use something to... to carry things in, he thought--he hadn't ever seen a bag, rucksack or the like to imagine one, but it would've been the perfect thing.

For now, he headed back up to the height of the ruins: wings flapping, then gliding, as he banked to the highest points he could find. And once again he set to searching: clinging to the sides of buildings, or standing on decrepit roofs, as he picked through old rocks in search of hidden treasure.

At last--on the corner of a high and crumbled building, fishing around under a few hundred pounds of worn stone bricks and chips of quartz--Ember's claws touched something different. He grunted, squinting, focused on clinging to the rock while he struggled to get a grip and pull the something free.

"What's this?" he wondered, aloud--"What're you?"

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