A boulder opal, cradled within the roots of a tree began to crack. The cracks were thin, hard to see. Its' inhabitant was slow to think, slow to start. A clear slime had already begun to seep from its' chrysalis. But the calm had to end sometime. And the chrysalis obliged. A chunk fell free, large enough for something small to poke out.

A glimmer of warm brown in the depths, and then a tendril emerged. Tipped with a small dark spot, it gleamed in the relatively cool shadows. The eyestalk gazed at the world, lush and green and full of chirping birds and bugs. Their eyestalk shimmering with a sense of wonder only found in children. They had to see more. Another eyestalk appeared. And then a small tentacle, tipped with a heart shaped nub grasped the edge of the chrysalis.

They pulled themselves towards the edge. The tip of their foot escaped, and then the rest of their foot followed, bending and warping to escape through the small hole. And then, when most of their body escaped, their shell caught. Annoyed the snail pulled against their chrysalis, trying with all their might to go forward. Their chrysalis shattered, and scared by their sudden endeavor they jerked back within their shell. Several moments passed. An eye emerged. Another one.

Oka crawled from their shell. Nervous but excited. Their small tentacles papped hungrily against the ground, trying to absorb all they could about this lands texture and shapes. They went forward, blind to all but the texture of the ground and the feel of grass on their feelers.

Birds, bats; these things, it had seen, things that flittered and fluttered and were, generally, pretty. And deer, rabbits; rats. All of them furred, or feathered.

Or maybe it was a fish..?

Titanite squinted its many eyes through the brush, peering doubtfully at the snail. ...It does not look like fish. No scales, he decided, at last.

Titanite had been rooted there, one of many plants, by all appearances, his root-feet drawing nutrients from the soil below. It was a good meal, one that had left him energized, and he saw no reason not to pull up roots and investigate this shell-beast more closely.

Tangled limbs slowly thrust through the vines, branchlike protrusions catching on thorns, which he absently shook loose. Lanky, tall, he paced on two legs to come alongside Oka, a few feet off, warily eyeing her over. Eridanus was full, more often than not, of plants and Lesser Gembound. Titanite rarely saw anything sentient; it was too thick a jungle to run randomly into others, particularly when one was a mostly-motionless plant-monster.

At the moment, then, he expected nothing from Oka when he spoke; it was more musing, aloud and to himself.

"What are you?" he rasped, and his bemused voice was like branches grinding in the wind.

@Oka

The snail didn't think much of the large brown and green creature. It's eyes passed over it, quickly writing off as another tree. They began to move from the relative safety of their root nest. But... their eyes caught Titanite. It was closer to them. Too young to be scared, Oka gazed at them curiously. It comforted them. What are you? The tree beast spoke. It's voice rasped. Oh! Oka knew this. Oka could form sounds. It knew things too!

"Oh. Kah." It said. "Oka." The words formed slowly and strangely in a mouth without tongue. Perhaps it was some kind of answer. "What..." Oka began. "What are you?" It said. More parroting than actual intellegent speech. Oka approached the Titanite. It was woodsy and green. Food? They wrapped their mouth around a rooted foot, attempting to nibble on and taste the thing.

@Titanite

Titanite stared down, watching as the snail moved at what, to him, seemed a perfectly reasonable pace. Its mouth wrapped around one foot--one branchlike foot--and he realized, belatedly, that it was trying to eat him.

"Okahhh..." he rasped, slowly, and then reached down, bending to gently pry the young snail loose. Not that she was small, by any means.

Instead of moving her away, however, he focused for a moment, drawing nutrients upward and through his branches, so that his foot began to sprout fresh and juicy leaves. He then replaced her there, apparently content to allow her to simply. Eat him.

"I am... Titaniiiite. You... are Okahhh. You... are not... a fish," Titanite observed, his long wheezing breaths rasping like branches in the wind.

And then--doubting himself--"Aaare... youuu..?"

@Oka

Titanite lifted Oka, which they had no qualms to. Other than the fact they were away from food. They did however hang awkwardly, dangling on either side of Titanite's limb, like a cat that did not want to be picked up. They watched, curious, as small leaves began to sprout from Titanite's foot. Oka found themselves forgetting their want to graze, instead fascinated by watching leaves grow before their eyes. Oka nibbled a few. More investigatory than anything. They grasped a leaf, pulling it from Titanite's foot. Twisting it within their tentacles, and eying it with a sense of awe, as if it'd begin sprouting once again before their eyes.

"Titanite." Oka repeated. Their eyes drifted up to the bark creature. "I am...Oka." Oka didn't know what they were, themselves. But Oka knew they weren't a fish. "Not fish," they confirmed. "Titanite fish?"

Oka's attention was caught by the leaf again. They drew their eyes in close to it. "Titanite made this?" They said. They pressed the leaf close to them. Oka felt their first bits of magicka come to life. Oka directed the flow within the leaf, curious how it would change. And change it did. The brown stem of the leaf lengthened. Elongating and growing gnarled until there was a branch upon their tentacle. The tentacle itself was swarmed, quickly overtaken by the leaf's roots. Oka had a miniature tree upon their tentacle within no time, and it dangled awkwardly and heavily off their arm.

"I made this," Oka said, inventing plagiarism.

@Titanite

With 'not a fish' confirmed, Titanite turned himself to other thoughts. The leaves, for example. He leaned down, long, pointed branch-fingers trailing gently over the snail's shell in what might, in another world, have seemed like someone stroking a cat.

Except the petter was a glowing tree-monster, and the 'cat' was, in fact, a giant snail child. Close enough, though.

"I do not... make... the plants. You do not... maaaake. The plants," the Titanite explained, the words rattle-breathing forth gradually. "We call... on them. We moooove them... we feeed them. With maaagic... light... water. Soooiiiil," he breathed, gently running clicking branch-fingers across the shell all the while. At the word "light" the gemstone within his chest flared up, a soft green glow to it, one that spread throughout his body--within limbs, and ribs--into a brighter, gently-pulsing verdant light that seemed to drift with motes and wisps.

"You aaaare... a child... of the forest," Titanite told Oka quietly.

When it didn't seem to answer, he took that to assume that it was asleep, or the like. He drifted off, eventually, wandering to leave it on its own.

@Oka

editing into an exit due to inactivity