This was Orion. Here, renowned for its beauty, the ceiling glistened with a light incomparable to anything else. Here one could cast their gaze up to find the hope they might lack. And here the world underneath the glitter was a mixture of stone, dust, and dirt. What inhabitants there were crawled amongst the ruins of a place that might never be truly theirs. But despite that, they would look at those promising lights above and see the steady sense of belonging they required.

It was in this cave that he emerged. Tired of the persistent cling of stone against damp feathers, wings stretched within his chrysalis and the world split open to him. He stood there, muddy brown and white, shivering as air met him for the first time.

Others might have been paralyzed by awe at the sight that greeted them. He was not one for slack jaws and dumb stares. Head tilted this way and that, yellow eyes catching the gleam that changed with each angle. As he did so, a faint comprehension settled within. Though indescribable by words, there was a reason to this. Seeking further explanation, his consciousness stretched out to touch his surroundings.

Death. Devouring. The churn of a cycle where all things crumbled and succumbed to an end. He could feel a persistent sensation of rot rooted deep beneath his feet. Unaware of what he'd done, the bird searched around only to find rubble.

But regardless of whether it'd been a gut instinct or something else entirely, he knew now. When he looked up at the ceiling again, it was with a glare heavy with suspicion. Those pretty lights couldn't fool him like a predator luring in its prey. Something was deeply wrong here, and it'd be best for him to tread carefully.

As danger loomed above in the form of shining promises, so did it hide below in the dark crevices of stone. Feathered but not feather-brained, the invisible unsettling force beneath him had not been forgotten. Walls, ceiling, ground—all wore innocence in their own unique mask, whether it be glitz or lonesome disrepair. He took the initiative and peeled back the guise.

Talons keen as mind dug into the ruins he perched upon. Stones were shifted aside. They bounced and rolled down over what remnants were still undisturbed. First introduced to deception, now the truth was sought wherever it might lay.

Not the most honest of places, Orion. Dark, swathed in the glitter of starlight, but was it truly beautiful beneath that sparkling skin?

East's claws uncovered the tattered remnants of a furred beast: gray, mattered black, slowly devoured by the fungus. It was larger, even, than the bird, or perhaps had been in life, and the bones that tented up the thin and rotting hide spoke of carnivore.

An Echoing Gray; but how had it come to be in this place-? Half-buried, and left to rot..?

@East

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

A gruesome sight met young eyes. He flinched as if his tail feathers had been roughly yanked. There was no backward stumble or shocked outcry though. Once the impact had passed, the bird was still, a standing statue amongst the rubble. The worst had been expected and had accordingly met its appointment. That understanding compelled him to lean in for a closer look.

Time beneath rock had flattened the body, but the heap of bones and rotting flesh had been a bruiser. Size aside, whatever leftover muscle that could be seen through the ragged pelt spoke of tough living. Scars littered the corpse, some bites and others claws. What remained of the jaw hung askew like a door missing a hinge; the teeth set within were needle-sharp. Paws and tail were paper-thin and likely as easy to tear. He'd have to take that risk.

As was necessary, caution was tossed to the wind. He hopped directly onto the dead beast. His pair of talons gripped and pulled up on the mangled form. Wings beat up a storm to remain steady as he flipped it over. And the delicate tissue of those paws did rip, revealing the black decomposition inside. He turned his face aside to focus on a more important and equally disturbing matter on the underside—the massive gouge that existed where there used to be a belly.

Whatever this creature was, it'd ran with violence and died at its hand. A lesson on the law of the caves. But still—why here?

While no sympathies lay with the discarded body, it was the festering piece of an incomplete puzzle, the unfilled spaces potentially numerous enough to create a yawning abyss. To leave it alone, to bury that piece again, would be to allow its obliteration from living memory. No, he did not mourn this stranger that had met its end in a befitting manner. However, its presence could help discover a story that carried beyond its existence.

The bird swept a leg, scooping aside what rubble lay beside the corpse. If the hole was widened, perhaps some telling clues would be revealed.

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

The first pass of his talons did not fully penetrate to what lurked beneath, a dark tuft of fur the only sign indicating where it was hidden. So he scraped again and again. Each pass raked away dust and rock to gradually reveal the wedge shape of a head similar to that of the deceased found already. Its size predicted larger overall proportions. He reached farther out to shove whatever rubble might be covering the rest of the body.

This new corpse did not require flipping over. It'd been crushed beneath the stone in a sideways position, leaving the gaping wound that also resided on its underside clearly visible. The rot's progression was further along. Viscous black fluid oozed from internals and matted the surrounding fur. The discharge even existed where the creature's eyes used to be, the pressure having popped them open like an overripe tomato. Although the pelt spoke of a life like the gray one's, these weren't old pals. Despite the closeness of their silhouettes, the differences were too much, and he suspected like travelled with like.

These were tough critters, but both had fallen to the same being based on the matching injuries. The purpose? Still unknown, unless the perpetrator was a finicky type that preferred the consumption of organs. The weapon of use? He hovered a talon above the gray body's wound and took an experimental swipe. Yet to be determined.

Only on a second glance over the grisly scene did he find a couple more jigsaw pieces. The putrid liquid rot on and around the second stiff had camouflaged them. Hard glints amongst the darkness gave away their solidity, two curved shapes swimming in a pool of oily death. They floated at the tail end of the corpse as if they'd been casually tossed aside at the end of the dirty deed. No doubt about it, they would have to be fished out.

He dared hop closer to dip a foot into the mess. What might have once been at least lukewarm was now cool and slick. Fumbling filled the entire process of extraction, a shaky front and back talon plucking out one object after the other. Apparently birds of prey did not come equipped with all the tools of finesse, just the ones that made them look ever so graceful as they tried not topple into the draining fluids of the deceased. But it could be managed—he deposited them onto dryer rock, his talons a mismatched pair of bluish-gray and black. Feathers fluffed momentarily to banish the imaginary chill that clung to more than toes.

Retrieved, it became clear they were two parts of a probable whole. A single glassy surface with a jagged separating line formed when prodded together. One side of both pieces flat and the other rounded, they met at a sharp point that rivaled the end of his beak. Quite the deadly rendezvous, perhaps especially on a downward jab. Of course looks did not keep promises; action would speak better truths.

Only a nick was needed. The aftermath would do the rest. He grasped the narrower of the pieces and slowly lifted so that it remained steady between pinning talons. A twist angled to strike at the less deteriorated of the two unfortunates, to part what was left of gray fur. Captured in its point was the gleam of ceiling lights; whether their lies now dwelled there too, he could not tell. Maybe their whispers would be heard on the wind as the stab fell for a neat and even slice of information.

So he let that point fly to its mark. The sharp tip sank past flesh faster than a rock hits bottom. It was a startling give, one that turned his jab into more of a clumsy stumble. Beak grazed against rock as wing flaps barely prevented a complete faceplant. However, the recovery was quick, even if fanned out crest feathers disagreed.

A tug removed it as easily as it'd penetrated. Although glassy and dark, there was no denying the decay that dripped off its end. Another answer and a growing array of questions. Perhaps it'd be best to hide these away, somewhere safe from those with thoughts honed for the kill.

The dead could stay. He'd study the world's brutality written on their bones, then leave them to their final fate.

-Exit

((Obsidian blade fragments added to inventory))