Bayo wandered into Polaris, searching for things that could possibly be added to his bag of bones. With his bandana, bag, and general attitude, he was really growing into his self proclaimed cowboy persona. Though, there weren't really any cows or horses or anything. He didn't even have a hat!

But things would change as he approached the Wishing Stone, eyes bright and jaw nearly on the floor. He galloped up to it and stood before it, his tail beginning to wag like crazy.

”Woaaaaah!!” he exclaimed, sniffing around the base. ”A stone! A wishin' stone! Well boy howdy- this is jus' great! Mister Stone- Or uh, Miss Stone? Whichever you are, I wanna make a wish o' my own!”

He sat down and got to thinking. He thought and thought until his head hurt, but just when he was about to give up, he finally got an idea.

”I wanna be a cowboy, baby!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. ”Like horses 'n' cows 'n' a hat! Can you do the hat especially? Gosh! I've always wanted a hat! I got this neat ol' bandana from Mister Collector, an' this bag from that weird portal lookin' thingy in the gem cave- are you from there, Mix Stone? You sure lookit! Oh wait, cowboy. Yeah, that'd suuuure be great!!”

Bayo grinned a doggy grin, his ears flopping over his head as his tail wagged a mile a minute.

It takes a while before Catalpa’s able to get up close and personal to the stone herself. There’s… a lot of Gembound around it. Which means what it claims—this instinctive feeling she gets from the stone, kind and giving—it must have some base to it, right?

Or maybe it’s just a weirdly powerful feeling stone. She can’t really see anybody’s wishes being granted…

But, oh, does she want to try. She wants to get her paws on that stone and wish. Wants to have… well, something happen. It feels magical. She wants to use magic like that. Powerful, flashy and pretty…

Though, her mind blanks for a second when she gets to the stone itself. What does she want, anyhow? She’s just jealous of the other Gembound, really; when she manages to get close and puts her paws right up on the stone, feeling it tingle with power (or is that just her imagination?), she can’t really think of anything she wants.

Maybe… maybe…

I wish for a companion, she thinks. She’s had friends before, sure, acquaintances in the caves, but she travels quite a lot and she always seems to lose touch in time. She wants something, someone, to be by her side. To travel with me, so we can explore together.

Now, let’s see if any of this wish granting business is true.

(…she hopes it is.)

It had fallen asleep. It wasn’t sure for how long- long enough for its chrysalis to have a faint layer of dust on it, and moss attempting to grow up its sides. It felt bad for the moss it had disturbed, busting out of that horrible, suffocating shell. It had arranged the shards that moss clung to carefully, so that the mossy sides faced upwards. Then it had left.

It had drifted aimlessly for some time; it had called for Verdant, but hadn’t received any response, and it felt horrible, horrible alone, without their voice humming alongside its own. And its garden must have died when it fell asleep, for its outer shell was desolate and bare. It had saddened it so, to be in this state, and the sorrow must have had an effect on its magic, because attempts to regrow its garden had only wilted pitifully.

When it heard a humming song- almost akin to its own- it mentally perked up with surprise, drifting towards the song and humming along with it- though its own hum was less musical and more akin to a microwave or fluorescent lightbulb. And when it bumped into the source- quite literally, given it’s limited vision- it gave off an ‘oh sorry!’ sort of high pitched whine. It backed up, and one of it’s wispy sensing tendrils reached out to wrap around the stone. And it wished for A garden to carry with it. The moss and wildflowers and lichens it loved so, so much..

They found themself in and out of hibernation after losing Researcher. Time spent in or out of a chrysalis blurred together. No one they knew was still around, and it was hesitant to befriend others out of some irrational thought that they would die or vanish. They slept, or hunted, or explored the quiet, shadowy corners of the cave that they’d begun to feel a kinship with.

They hadn’t touched Polaris in cycles for multiple reasons- the crowds that’d congregate there, how bright and exposed they felt. The only thing that had drawn them there was rumors of a wishing stone. For the obviously enticing reasons a ‘wishing stone’ would invoke, but also out of cold curiosity. A habit that had not quite died, maybe. Researcher would’ve been fascinated by this.

They drifted into Polaris alone, to check the rumor's validity, and then returned later with a single skull with a shimmering crystalline cage set over it's muzzle. The skull was chipped where they had attempted to remove the gemstone and eventually gave up.

They hunched next to the shimmering gold-and-purple stone like a shadow, eyes downcast to stare at the paw that rest upon the stone's smooth surface. They tried to take note of the wishing stone's qualities- the shift in it's hue, the pitch of it's hum- but it was impossible to focus with the chance to make things good again resting on a single wish.

I wish for a fresh start, for the both of us. Please. And then, memories. Of hatching in a cold tunnel , of meeting the skull- but it wasn't a skull, yet, it was a spindly gibbon with a gemstone matching their own. Twins, they were. And then of exploring, of learning, of research. Meeting others. A motley little crew of knowledge seekers. And then... the decline. The tremors and memory loss. The seizures and eventually catatonia. They had thought it would get better, like before. They searched for help too, too late. And then.

They were alone.

And what they wished for bubbled up along whatever connection touching the stone created- they wanted to be born anew, the both of them. And more than anything, they didn't want it to happen again. The disease, or curse, or whatever it was.

"Aren't you a thing of intrigue? Curiosity? Scratcher-of-the-mind?"

Menkheperre tilts his head as he stares down at the peculiar stone. It sings and chimes and offers a welcoming aura like one pats at the seat next to themself in invitation. Taking in the crystal's veritable collection of offerings (flowers, bones, various memorabilia) imposes a sense of guilt in him, like he was supposed to also bring something along. Not that the subject of his attention is asking for anything short of a wish, but... ah, societal norms.

The dragon seats himself before it, humming to himself in thought. All that he has ever needed is to fulfill his thirst for knowledge and to share it, so his wish should be quite simple; but, the kicker comes in minimizing the broadness of simply asking for information, and maximizing the effectiveness of it. After all, he lives in and keeps watch over a literal treasure trove of erudition. Why should he ask for that which he might inevitably find?

But, a library isn't the only means of learning, now, is it?

It's in that ah-ha! moment that he reaches to splay the claws of his foremost left hand on the stone's surface. Superstition about speaking aloud one's wishes keeps him silent as he closes his eyes and forms coherent thought under the presumption that the stone can read his mind: I'd like the means to uncover new information about the spaces which I live in, breathe in, exist in. Not well-loved books and tomes, but perhaps something that may grant me clues where to look, faces to pursue, breadcrumb trails to follow.

And is that enough, Menkheperre wonders more abstractly to himself, rocking back onto his haunches.

Deli

Deli approached only once they knew nobody was around. The didn't know, at this point, who knew who they were and who was angry with them. It had been in their best interests for a while to lay low for a while, but now that things had settled down, at least for them, it was time to make their grand return. And what better way then with a magical wishing stone that would apparently give them whatever they wanted?

They crept forward across the stones of Polaris until they were before the stone, crouching down with a wide cheshire grin across their face, clutching tight the robe that draped around their shoulders. "Hiya there, lil' stone! Very cool to be granting wishes! If I could ask one...well, I like causing trouble, you see? If you got anything that'll make me even better at that I'll gladly take it off your hands. Or, uh, your...rock? Surface? I don't know where you get this stuff." They waved at their air with their hand dismissively.

Hera couldn't resist flapping her wings with sheer joy as knowledge of a new spell flooded her mind. With this, she could be whatever colors she wanted! --maybe she could even add patterns, too!

But she'd start with the basics this time. Hurriedly hopping away from the wishing stone so others could get their turn, Hera reached for that new knowledge, envisioning a pale, warm pink color. Had anyone here ever known the true sky, it might evoke the image of first light just barely peeking through the mist, staining the clouds above a soft, glowing pink. She preened this through her feathers, marveling at the splendid color--and without messy, sticky dyes, too!

The magic felt strong at her beak-tip, and Hera decided in a flash of confidence and inspiration: why not go for something extra? Splashes of shining gold were added to the tips of her primaries and tail feathers, so that they looked as if they'd been dipped in gold leaf. After a moment of thought, she added some to her head, chest, and back, too, just to spice things up.

There. That should last her a while! Thrilled, Hera took off and circled in wide loops above the glowing mosses and stones, laughing and crowing her joy as she soared.

The next day, though, she remembered something else, and returned to the stone to touch her beak to it again. Still riding on the high of her freshly-painted feathers and a bit breathless from the flight there, she whispered eagerly: "Can I have a hat? Or some other accessory, to cover up my bat," and this was said with a dramatic, hopeless sort of distaste, "ears or the light from my eyes? Oh, the green clashes so much!"

"And--thank you," she added belatedly. "I didn't say it yesterday! But thank you so much. This is really amazing. Don't I look amazing?" This last question was really directed to no one in particular, since there weren't many people around at this time of day, and she didn't really expect an answer from the stone, anyway. It was more of an exclamation to herself, an expression of joy and wonder at finally being able to be whatever color she wanted.

She'd been floating in Pisces, quietly resting, when the dream came. Whale watched with quiet wonder as the owl soared in a streak of glorious fire, sparking bursts of gold and violet magic, and as the familiar exhale of a whale, and then another and another, broke the surface of the sea.

Maybe if the circumstances were different--if she hadn't been watching through a dream, the haze of sleep disconnecting her somewhat from solid reality; if that owl hadn't looked so wondrous and so impressive and so magical, she'd have felt a little... weird about it. These were whales that basically looked just like her, after all. But all she could feel now was awe, and relief. They will live. The wishing stone and the owl, whoever they were and however they were connected, had ensured that.

When the orb high above began their next light-cycle, Whale thought of the scattered bunches of flowers she'd seen by the foot of the wishing stone. Perhaps she should bring it a sort of decoration like that too, as a thank-you. Something to match the colors of the owl's magic...?

It was pretty hard to find anything gold, as it turned out, but Whale managed to round up several empty skullcrab shells to fulfill the purple part. Pushing them along with her magic so she wouldn't have to risk getting stabbed by the spikes, she once again surfaced by the Wishing Stone and laid down the shells with the flowers and other decor.

Thank you.

exit

OOC NOTE: THIS POST COUNTS AS DAY 6, all posts from me before this one were day 5 which i already got a roll for, so i just need day 6's roll for this one <33


Forgraves had gleefully (and carefully) thanked the rock and picked the tea tray up wrapping a vine throught each handle in an attempts to hold both handles at the same time. he'd have to walk very slowly, but it'd work.


sure enough, 2 days later, he returned! Forgraves figured that, hey, if he was going to ask for those, he'd come back until he was told he couldnt. why not, right?

he sat down by the rock again. "hello again! once again, thank you for the gift last time, ive been getting good reports on my tea's quality since then! solid gift, thank you VERY much!" he said, patting the rock affectionately.

"of course i'm back, so that means i have another request if its not too much trouble?" he asked, before slinking off the star-chart pendant around his neck, holding it forward. "this thing is covered in what looks to be "star charts", or maps of sorts, and i can't find anything in regards to recognizing their origin, or what they might be referring to as, as far as i can tell atleast, we don't have real stars here." he explained.

"could you try and give me some sort of info on it? see if theres anything in the caves that might reference these charts specifically, or give me insight onto how i might find out myself? if not, it's fine, just enchant it or something. thank you!" he asked, before sitting down and waiting patiently for a reply


"Speech." Thoughts.

Ember crept in again, once more when no one was nearby. This time, clutched carefully in one forepaw, he held the smooth chunk of Moonstone he'd found some time ago in Orion's ruins.

He hadn't revived it, because... he'd been afraid to.

Afraid that he would fail. And he'd heard that, if one failed at reviving a stone, it might just... cease to be, all life faded from it. He didn't want to do that. So now, cautious and with a delicate grip around it, he landed beside the Wishing Stone.

He did a double-take at the gifts that had been left around it--the flowers, the plants--and cleared his throat as he came up to it.

"Thank you--for before," he murmured. And for a moment, his mind flashed back to Sir Hammersly. He'd taken the hammer off, curious, and quickly found (to his deep amusement) that the hammer had a life and personality all its own. And that the personality had been distinct. Ember'd been almost ashamed to admit that, despite wanting to be a blacksmith, he had no forge; and when he'd sheepishly apologized and explained he was only just getting started, Sir Hammersly had seemed to relent. '...Well,' the old hammer had grumbled, 'at least someone wants to be a smith. Lost art. It's a lost art, I tell you. We'll get started somewhere.' It'd been annoyed, but at least not mean; so Ember had sat for a time, speaking with it.

If this Wishing Stone could conjure up a talking hammer, surely it could help him with another little piece of life-? "I want to bring this stone to life. I don't know whose it was, I-... feel bad that it's dead. But I'm afraid that I'll fail. Can you make sure I don't--you know... kill it? By accident?" he asked, pleading, his voice a near-whisper.

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