Once there was a story about falling, of dreaming, of taking and keeping - his story, once. He never wanted to be a devil, and yet that was what he had become before the end; the story was corrupted, but it wasn't over yet.

He had the memory of laughter in his head, but the distinct understanding that he didn't know what laughter was, not really. Not yet. He wasn't awake to laugh - there was no space here, in the stone. Wedged as he was. Twisted and confined. It was so tight he couldn't take a breath; the air was stale, had been stale, would always taste like the dust of the caves. But how did he know of the caves? The walls of his prison had formed days ago, an empty husk. And as he formed next, brewed and boiled, formed by the magicka imbibed through the stone, the memories drifted through his very essence.

Long arms reached up, out, flailing and stretching, nearly smacking the nearby face. Big dark eyes slid open, blinked, and then narrowed with a pained scrutiny towards the blurry light of the stones surrounding them both. Two eyes, many teeth. Big, big, there was something big below, The little creature rolled forwards, reaching for the claws with outstretched arms. When the creature managed to grasp the claws with its four-fingered hands - yes, the claws, the claws were so big, were they his? Were they real? Figments, fragments, and the thoughts drifted through him like a breath.

Jealousy; he could taste it on his tongue, it twisted his gut, but it was familiar. A long dark form shifted inside, behind the shell of the chrysalis, as if reacting to the ghost of a thought. Jealousy and the three eyed beast, a friend perhaps? And the teeth again, the claws, the warmth of fur, but the sensations didn't end. Yes, the jealousy was rooted within him too deeply. The creature stirred once more, and came to rest.

That boy, with his trinkets and stones. Hungry for the magic in the world - his world, it would have been - could still be.
Would be. But it wasn't time yet, his body wasn't ready.

The caves, they were different, as if preparing. Smoke filled the air and drifted between the rooms, seeping in to the stone; but it did not touch him. It did not reach him, but he could feel the heat as if it scorched him - no, he couldn't, that was impossible. The magicka, was it alive? The caves - he could sense their burning, hear their screaming through the walls, as the magicka poured through him.

He wakes, almost. Struggling against his own mind, kicking with his body - but legs would not move. Arms moved, hands clenched, unclenched, scraping against the walls of the shell around him. Frustration, anger, rage -- he boiled, pure vitriol, but it was not time; oh how he ached to be alive. The caves were waiting, they were wailing and he was growing impatient.

And there was pressure - his body buckled to it, crushed by a great weight -

enna
sweet and soft
ooc ;; gasp

Pisces was filled to the brim with preparations for a wedding that no one could wait for, gembounds back from a violent battle of survival recovering by the pools of clean water or in the fields of moss. Her home was perfect, a sanctuary, as decorations began to be hung and the soft songs of Makyna and her choir practicing for the night that was coming oh so soon. Despite her excitement, a nagging worry filled the tiny bird as she hurried to her nest, away from the crowds and her usual duty. Everyone was as patched up as they could be, and they could finish up things without her.

More important to her was the growing life instead of her little crook. The bird landed gently on her perch, her feathers brushing back vines as she crept into the shadowy shelter of her nest, a familiar sleepiness creeping up on her. Her incandescent eyes fixated on the gemstone in the back of her den, noting with alarm that it had nearly swallowed the entire back wall. Sure, her little cozy room was small, but the round egg took up so much space. Perhaps she had been wrong to place him here, where he might not be able to develop fully... She wondered if she was a bad caretaker, if she had already messed up.

Yet as she crept forward, there was a sound. She didn't know what the sound was, for it was brief and muffled, from the crystal before her. The gem seemed to come to life, as though for the first time she could tell there was something inside. The monkey. Would he still even be a monkey, or would he have some of her traits? She wondered, fearfully, if he would remember.

The bird swallowed her fears and hopped a bit closer, her talons landing in her mossy nest. She didn't dare disturb the chrysalis, but she stared, wide eyed, and the gem... Was it, finally, hatching? Had she done it? Would he... Forgive her, if he did remember?

perfect strangers in the night
here we are come together ~ <3
to the world we'll testify

A hairline fracture creased through the center of the stone carapace, and then another; it was as if the chrysalis itself was alive, pulsing, breathing. Then, it rested. There was a moment of stagnation, and the caves seemed to sit in shock of that which was coming - perhaps it was true, what the creature thought in its dreaming state, that the cave system had been heavy in preparation for its arrival - then there was another shock to the shell, a splintering sound and a drop, as a chunk of the stone gave way. It was not enough to free the beast. In fact, there is a spark, a flare of magicka where the stone has come undone, as if the energy giving the creature life was angry. As if even the chrysalis knew not to set this beast free.

enna
sweet and soft
ooc ;; gasp

The gem had grown so fast, and she had been so busy. Should she have checked on it more often? She reached out with her magic, trying to see if the one inside was okay, and healthy, but she faltered. The mother bird did not want to know, truly. She did not want to see, did not want to feel that the gem was sick, that she hadn't done enough, hadn't been there for him. Her feathers rose on her crest as the chrysalis cracked, a sharp, echoing sound that reverberated around her, swallowed her thoughts.

Whatever was inside, plagued with illness or healthy as a horse, it was alive, and she was there to witness it. She backed up, eyes wide, beak parted in slack. Her tail feathers jutted through the vines that covered her tiny cave and she froze, light coming through in gentle shafts of white to chase away the darkest of shadows. She trembled, unsure what to do or say. It wasn't like with a fresh, new baby gembound. This one had been created with her magic, revived and renewed.

The bird forced her eyes shut as she felt the bacteria culture in her den, swarming and squirming wildly at the disturbance. She hated the sensation, as it crept through her plumage, that she was wrong. That she should have left the corrupt monkey lay dead, or that she should have had someone better, someone less broken than her fix him. Oh, but she hadn't realized, she hadn't known at the time. She had thought she was making amends. She had thought she could save Teyouma-- and perhaps she could, but she had underestimated her fear. It was a terrible demon, drowning her in tar in that moment, and she could not fight it. She was stuck, in her horror, watching the thing break free.

perfect strangers in the night
here we are come together ~ <3
to the world we'll testify

Her magic reached out to him, and he could feel it. Like the tickle at the back of your throat when the weather changes. Not quite sickness, but not quite right either - and a pulse forced its way through the stone. Bevy's magic is cut off, left to fizzle out and die before any real answer can be granted. The spell was successful but, maybe it was Bevy's lack of true desire and intention that caused it to cease?

Or maybe the life within the stone was able to counter it, somehow.

enna
sweet and soft
ooc ;; gasp

It will destroy you.

The voice crept through her mind and she couldn't breathe, her lungs frozen as the rest of her. She should have been happy, excited even, but now more than ever those haunting words came back to her. Violence in your bones, given to the creature of hatred and greed. You gave it to It. Enna reached out for Ratchie, for anyone, trying to find some comfort in the shattered light of her place of safety. She knew she had done this to herself, but she thought it would be safe, that she would be strong enough.

Unfortunately, she was still the same Bevy as ever, a coward, a fraud. Putting on a brave act, acting like she knew how to fix everything. She was just guessing, and she couldn't shut out her doubts this time. No one was holding her talon, no one was watching. She was alone with her deepest darkest fear, and it was coming to life.

Despite the fuzzy blur of bacteria, familiar and warm, surrounding her and the cave in a bath of grey and white, she could only feel the void before her. You gave It power over you, and now it will destroy everything you created. The voice spoke all of her worst thoughts, and she couldn't separate the voice from her own.

This was wrong. She was supposed to be a momma birdy. Not scared, brave and strong for her children. Before her was her next child and she should... She should watch, whatever it was, come forth into welcome arms. She forced one eye open, her wings held tight to her side, her crown puffed right up. She could do this.

It's coming, Enna, where's the violence in your bones? Destroy It before It takes everything from you. Everyone, from you. Kill It. You know how, don't you, Enna?

perfect strangers in the night
here we are come together ~ <3
to the world we'll testify

The subtle shift of colors within the stone appeared to cease, as if overwhelmed by the darkness inside. While Bevy was sitting in wait, terrified and alone, the stillness of Pisces reached out to her - and to the creature in its shell. For a minute or so there is nothing. No sound, no light emanating from the strange stone heart, nothing.

And then a muffled thump, the sound of claws against a plate of glass. A shard of stone broke free and crumbled, followed by another, and then a fissure seemed to open up across the surface - dropping away and leaving a gap.

The darkness inside the chrysalis seemed unreal; and there was a shifting inside of it, like the shadows themselves wished to flee for their own safety. A drip of shadow drifted out of the shell and on to the cave floor, only to return itself - a foot? a hand? the claws catch the stone and grate upon it, and tendrils of stone peel away.

The hand returns and grasps the rock, sinks curved claws in to it without issue; the beast tugs, but something catches against the shell and the creature must fall back, temporarily defeated - but not long. Rage, so familiar and so tantalizing, erupts within the core of the beast. It feels a familiar pulse from its heart - then the creature forces its way out of the chasm of the chrysalis, ignoring the pain in its shoulders as they catch upon the stone this time, tearing itself out with a crunch, and the creature screams with too many voices --

The sound curdles the air. It is like a scream, high in pitch and volume, and a second voice, like a sharp intake of breath. The creature stumbles and flails, unsure on its feet, and collides with the ground - its shoulders sagging, its long hands tearing in to the ground and forming fists, the dirt collecting with every subtle movement. He manages to make his way out from Bevy's little hollow, hitting the dirt just outside. The beast inhales slowly, steadily, and tries to ease the rage from its heart - the pain, it is sharp, and it wakes him from the stupor of half-death; this is when the creature becomes aware. Not just of its pain, but of the strangeness of it all.

Yes, he could remember the arms and the legs. He could remember the teeth, the squeezing of his bones - it wasn't the same as this. He moves his shoulders, shrugs almost, and feels no pain at all - but then another motion, and the pain is there, and he is screaming, grinding his face against the dirt to muffle the sound of his many voices. Something braces him against the ground and with a shuffle - stupefied - the creature rises upon its long legs, holding himself up with two - three? four arms - but the longer he sat the more it hurt, the more he wanted to cry out. The creature sets its monkey-grin in to a grimace to stop a strangled cry, staggering one step, then another.

He has too many arms. Too many limbs - this was wrong - he was wrong - why did it hurt so much?

The beast roared, his dark eyes shining like great pits of deep ink, and he stood up. One long arm holds his body upright, the other sags against his chest, and the broken secondary arms - they simply sit there uselessly. He turns his head and stares in to the dark of the caves, but sees nothing. He takes another breath, reaches up with one arm and then the other, and grabs at one of the sagging, useless limbs.

Without another sound, the beast pulls. The crack of bone resounds through the caves, and blood - blood finally begins to soak through the dark feather-like hair that grows across his skin. Chunks of flesh are pulled free and thrown to the ground. It hurts, of course it hurts, but soon enough the trauma overwhelms him - there is adrenaline pulsing through him like magic, and his rage is turned outward with the full intent to rend, to correct, to fix this mistake of nature; one wing is destroyed to near completion, and the beast falls backwards atop it, dizzy from the blood loss and not at all coherent.

He will be unmade, he decides. Unmade and redone, again, again, again, for this was not right. This - he - all of it was wrong.

The beast was so absorbed in its own agony that it did not see Bevy. Did not know that it had a witness - a mother - and continued to seeth.

enna
sweet and soft
ooc ;; gasp

Bevy did not move, did not dare breathe, as the noise resonated around her. The thing did not seem to see, did not notice her, and she did not speak to it. She simply let it do what it was going to do, her eyes trying to figure out what it was, what was wrong with it. It seemed to be in agony-- she had done this. Kill It Kill It Kill It Kill It. Her thoughts were absorbed with those two words, as she stared. Pity. Grief. Fear.

The worst of it was, the voice seemed to revel in the way the child struggled. Enna suddenly was an observer, watching but unable to react. She had been put on the bench, at some point. The voice watched. The voice spoke to her, softly, whispering. Yes, kill It. You have such violence in your bones, Enna. Look at you kill It. No... No, she struggled to move, her wing twitching just slightly as the newborn began to tear itself limb from limb, removing the parts that didn't seem to belong.

It's killing Itself, and it's all our fault, Enna. She had to help the newborn. Frantic, she struggled to come to grips with herself. She reached out, trying desperately to come to the creature's aid.

"N-no, stop! Teyouma, no, please!" The tiny bird implored, stirring into motion finally... But was it even Teyouma anymore? Or was it a fractured part of her, one of the many trapped souls she held in her body, escaped into the form of that beast, held captive by the sinful creature. How could she have done this? Why did she let this happen? You can still stop it, Enna. Destroy it. You have the power, It's still weak. Kill It. She shook the voice out of her head as she squawked, stumbling forward, desperate to stop the creature before it destroyed itself.

perfect strangers in the night
here we are come together ~ <3
to the world we'll testify