The white fawn wasn't much to look at: small, gangly, with spindly legs that trembled as he walked, and fur tousled out of place with no mother doe to groom it down. Granted, he was a pure white, the diamond at his throat glittering, but he most certainly did not look powerful. The large, dark reptile leading him, however, might.

Reseda had promised to teach him magic, in return for his aid later on: she wanted the caves, and everything in them. She wanted respect, and she wanted fear. The problem was, she lacked skill in interaction, with manipulation, and might tend to simply inspire distate or outright hatred. She was, however, smart enough to know that gathering allies was a good first step--and Pride had been among these. It was his own task--one he had offered--to do her social manipulation for her, once he was skilled enough to do so. Where his loyalties would lie remained to be seen--but that was far in the future. For now, her side of the bargain was to be fulfilled.

Polaris, as she had explained, would be rife with magic. It might make practicing a little more chaotic, but it was energizing, at the very least, and here--at the base of the vast blue outcrop of crystal called the Spire--Pride could feel it. They weren't too close to it; somehow, even so young, he could sense that this would be dangerous. But it was close enough that the thrum and crackle had him excited about something for the first time in his young life. Not ecstatic, perhaps, but brightly interested, his heart swifter in its warm beat.

"My magic," he said after a time, voice thoughtful and young, barely-learned words carefully pronounced to perfection, "is this."

He turned, his melodic little voice falling silent as he focused. He could feel a strange, faint warmth at the gem at his neck, but he ignored this, concentrating on the loose stone lining the cave floor. A sudden rush and thump, and the rocks clattered lightly out of the way. It didn't have the raw power that his very first cast had shown, but it worked, and he looked to Reseda.

Hopefully, she could work with this, and aid him in refining it.

After the results of the magicka competition were announced - he hadn't won, which wasn't a surprise. What was a surprise though was seeing Kin-kin hadn't even made it to the top 3 - he left Polaris and headed back to his home, Orion. It had been a while since he was back here. As soon as he took a step onto the familiar terrain, he relaxed. This was where he had belonged. It was the place of his hatching, and he'd grown to love this place. He could trust this place.

He walked to a small pond that seemed to always be there and took a quick drink. Even the water was familiar. He could walk the whole area with his eyes closed, he's walked along these paths so often. Everything was familiar. He knew everything about this place, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't want to leave this place for as long as possible. It was his home, and it always would be.

"Speech" l 'Thoughts'

Leaves rustled and thrashed as a heavy body trotted brusquely through them. Ferns and grasses were pushed aside, uncaring.

The hyena's lope was businesslike, her head low and her dark eyes grimly set ahead. She spoke to her companion--her son, the Painted Dog trotting along behind her--as they moved. Her words were abrupt, clipped, as if she were trying to keep them to the point--as if afraid to stray from her chosen topic--and her voice was hoarsely masculine.

"We will search Eridanus. Then if he is not here, yes--we will search Polaris. I will search the entire caves if I must. Azazel was my king, Bones. The king I chose to serve."

She wound her way down, a soft growl escaping her. She was still coming to the terms that her Bone King had been slain--murdered, even--without her ever knowing. And how many cycles ago had it been..? Had he looked for her, at the end?

Alone and murdered, murdered and alone, screaming dying feathers everywhere--who did it? I'll kill them, who did it?!

Overhead, the Hallowed Caller--paralleling her flight--called hauntingly, and for a moment she saw glimpses of the surrounding jungle through its eyes: trees slipping by, the ground far below. The hyena's muscled body crested a short hill, and she paused, standing on mossy rock to stare down.

"By 'serve,' I mean aid. Help. Advise. And by 'king,' I mean trusted friend, and leader." Depth of angered emotion leant her otherwise-jumbled thoughts the ability to make clear, fierce statements, firm in her belief. "He came to me just after I'd hatched--a lonely thing, chewing on dry bones, looking desperately for marrow that wasn't there. He brought me a fresh kill. He would come to me--for advice, for aid. He listened." Her voice held some measure of grief, now.

He'd been her friend. Her friend, and he was dead.

The hyena stared down for a moment, and realized they'd come to the Eyes: the twin pools of silvery water at the far end of the room. This meant they'd traversed nearly all of Eridanus already.

And no sign of the Bone King's supposed son.

She turned her head to look at Bones. She'd been going slowly enough for him to keep up, but still, she wasn't sure how healed his legs yet were. "Do you need to rest?" she asked him.

________________

ROLL THE BONES

The moose was frantic. Where were his children?! He knew the bastard lizard thing had taken them, no other creature was in the tunnel at that time. Nobody but him and the Komodo. He trotted quickly through the tunnel, the very tunnel that he had met Blackberry in. Memories flooded his mind of when he was so innocent, so happy, so revolting. Those days disgusted him. Then the thought came to him. What is his children ended up like that because he wasn't there to teach them? The thought of that alone was enough to make the moose gag.

And yet, it also spurred him on. He had to find the children before they hatched. He had to make sure they were raised right. Blueberry pushed away the memories that the tunnel brought, heading toward a horrifying and yet somehow comforting snarling entrance. He'd rest here for a moment, not having stopped for much but food, which he grew himself, and to sleep for short periods. Other than that, the moose did not stop.

He felt he was getting close. He knew he was getting close. He had to be getting close. There was no way the lizard creature could have evaded him, unless they were in some place he did not know about. But with his travels, Blue could nearly guarantee he knew every cave within Origin. In reality, though, he'd only seen half of the caves, if not less.

"Hear my war cry"

Tags: @Blackberry @Sebastian
Notes: All welcome tagged Blackberry in case SIlver wanted to throw her or Reseda in here. Tagged Sebastion in case Blackbird wants to throw the new Berry family addition in.

Bones' joints were stiff. There was a dull throbbing in his legs the bones in his neck clicked quietly when he moved his head. For a split second, he did not know where he was. Opening his eyes only showed that everything around him was dark. The inky blackness was everywhere and it took a moment for him to comprehend-- for him to remember --where he had seen something like it before.

Jaw opening, his head lifted. He only managed out half a strangled "moth--" before his forehead hit against something hard above him. A ceiling? Had he grown that much?No, surely not. It was dark here, but it was warm and as he took a moment to try and stretch out, he realised it was cramped. He knew where he was; but he hadn't been here for many, many cycles.

It wasn't his first time within a chrysalis, at least. He knew what to do. Once the initial panic if the memories of Giggle and the Eyes washed away, Bones pushed himself up and he broke free of the chrysalis, sending shards of pale blue topaz in all directions with a resounding crack.

The lights were bright-- he hadn't expected it, but at least they were there. At least it was safe. With a breath, the painted dog shook out his fur and he began hobbling forward into Canis. He wasn't silly enough, at least, to go into hibernation in his own den-- he was in a tucked away corner surrounded by bones.

His time in a chrysalis had mended over his legs, too. Not fully, but enough that it wasn't so painful to walk anymore. His first priority was to check on everyone-- on Kerberos, Scarborough, Booker-- his mother. He had to make sure they were okay.

Mother first. Giggle was most important.

Even after many cycles within a chrysalis, the track of Canis was still familiar to him. His paws took him automatically across the room. He caught the smell of rats and bones (although the bones were everywhere) and for a moment, he lingered by the bone pile, watching and sniffing stray skulls and femurs.

The dog took a breath before he continued towards the hyena's garden, pausing around the outskirts and sniffing the air, briefly, to catch the scent of a fungus-ridden hyena. "Mother?" he called out gently, slowly lowering himself down to sit. "Are you here?"

He liked this cave. He'd liked the tunnel that led to it, too--his brief sojourn there had left him gazing up, head tilted in awe, at the draconic statues standing guard over each exit. He'd tried to take a few shiny objects with him from its dusty floor but, upon entering Monoceros, had quickly given them up in favor of exploring the windswept rock with its heat-driven gusts that howled through.

The young dragon was the size of a large dog, now, or larger, his wings already quite broad, his head now less that of a large-eyed little hatchling and more the long, narrowing snout of a predatory reptile. His horns were growing out, his spines longer and the fin-like membranes between them longer, his talons strong and pointed.

At the moment he was perched quietly on one of the red-brown stone ledges of the Platforms, but he was peering down at the dust hurtling up at the cave's center. It seemed to be spinning, a whorl of its own making, and Dread had no idea if this was a sentient being or a simple storm.

Hot, though. Good. His language was developing, too, and he knew enough to note with some satisfaction that the cave was indeed quite warm. It was, however, dry--he wasn't sure if it was too dry. He'd hatched in Fornax, which was pleasantly sea-side in a sense, and damp, with warm updrafts that carried him easily and joyously skyward. Monoceros at least had the warmth, unlike some of the cooler caves he'd visited--making flight easy--but the dryness was off-putting. No water for drink. No fish for hunt, he thought morosely.

Still, he was a dragon. Perhaps he just didn't need that much water. He'd stay awhile, and try to find out. But first, he had to test the winds, here--and test himself against them. He had to see how easy, or how difficult, flight here was, and to learn to navigate them before trying to seek prey down in the gorges.

Dread reared back, letting out a loud, screeching roar before leaping down and out, wings spreading. He let out another, exulting in his flight, in his freedom, in the feel of spiralling hot air lifting him easily skyward.

The quiet bass thump of his wings was just audible over the whisper of wind that began to whistle past as he flew toward the distant twister. He let out another screech, then faltered midair and quickly refocused his attention on his flight.

Unsteady. Chaos winds.

The cool air from the tunnel, the updrafts of heat, the weaker dead-air spots littered in among gusts of powerful wind--it took a great deal of concentration for him to remain airborne. He was no hatchling, and though still quite young, a mere three cycles of age, he'd still spent that full three cycles learning to fly in various winds. The damp but steady heat of Fornax, the icy dull wind of the tunnel that led there, the cool dry air of Orion, they'd all been unique in their own way. But each had been predictable, once learned.

Monoceros's fluctuated rapidly, from moment to moment and from place to place, forcing the young dragon to pay close attention to its little changes, and to rapidly adjust his flight accordingly. His wings shuddered and swept to and fro to adjust his course; his tail lashed, a powerful rudder to turn him or to keep him straight. The spines along his neck and throat, back and belly, constantly rose and fell, a nearly involuntary fluid movement that added additional, ever-changing stability to his flight.

He rose on the winds for a bit, his forward drift slow but his upward climb swift, allowing himself to merely rise on the heat, higher and higher. He then began to beat his wings more powerfully, arrowing forward, shooting over the trenches of the Gorge and toward the Twister.

Once close he banked away to circle it at a distance, eyeing it sidelong. It didn't react to his approach, so perhaps it was merely dirt tossed by air? He let out another testing, challenging screech, to see if it responded, but it did not.

Cautious, and continuously faltering and readjusting for the unsteady air currents, the dragon slipped closer, inhaling a deep breath of hot, dry air. Instinctively he called on his magicka, ready to assault the strange swirling, steadily-roaring enemy.

What came out wasn't a spray of flame, this time; the wind shifted at the wrong moment, and a blast of mere hot air issued forth from his jaws. He hissed and banked higher, flapping his wings hard to rise and circle the tornado from a widening distance.

Winter was relaxing atop a rock, just underneath one of the warmer lights. She had taken a moment away from Kielo just for some time to herself. They were probably off grazing or maybe finding a good place to rest themselves, but Winter felt that she needed just a little bit of time alone. She still wasn't used to traveling with a companion, however much of a joy it was to travel with Kielo. But lightbathing was always a nice, quiet past time and made her feel as warm as she could, probably.

She was ruminating on the days to come. There was a tug at her heart, a pull towards Polaris. Their children were growing, the two gems hidden beneath the rock were almost ready to hatch. Well, it felt like they were almost ready. It hadn't quite been a cycle since they had left them there, but it had certainly felt like quite a while. They would soon turn back to return to that cave where they waited for their parents.

The word sent a thrill through Winter. She was going to be a parent, a mother! How exciting! And also terrifying. What if she messed up? What if she didn't raise them right? What if the children hated her? Or hated Kielo? There was no way to answer any of these questions, though. She would have to wait for the future to come to her.


"And still I feel I said too much."
"My silence is my self defense."

Tags: @Kin-Kin
Notes:

Long, slow blinks introduced the shimmer of pink eyes to the world again.

His chrysalis had grown into an unsightly tumor of glistening morganite against the side of his tree. The last thing he remembered, he had curled up against the bark and closed his eyes, wishing that all the faces he had drawn into the tree would become real again. Dragon, Gracie, Arkrael, Lituus. Slowly, they had all vanished from him - no matter how hard he tried to keep them together, they vanished, slipping from his claws like idle breaths.

He tried so hard to be better. To be Good. To give himself and the rest of them purpose - and for what? To lose them.

A part of himself wanted to blame them. That maybe they had found something better in the cave. Someone who could give them more than what he could, with his feeble, weak attempts at faith and love; but it was exactly that thought that would lead him back around to blaming himself. His inability to provide. His insubstantial presence. That he just wasn't enough - he never would be.

Yet, for some reason, after having locked himself away inside his chrysalis, the cave had decided to wake him again. Piece by piece, the chrysalis peeled away until Ghanyarah was left blinking into the light again, awakening to a world he hoped, at first, had changed. But as he arched his neck and slowly pushed out of the remains of his chrysalis, he realized it was all the same. It was always the same.

A long sigh slipped from his throat as he sat nestled in the wreckage of roots and gemstone, contemplating sleeping again. The last time he had emerged, the cave had nothing for him.

He had long since realized he couldn't expect anything from it.

Orion was definitely a beautiful room.

The ceiling glistened with crystals, as though it were covered in millions of stars. And on the walls there seemed to be even more, the walls filled with quartz deposits.

And high above the room, on a raised platform, sat the Throne. No one knew who used to occupy it, and it gave off a certain air of mystery.

And, at the foot of the Throne, sat a Chrysalis. It was fairly small, and rather round, glistening an eye catching bright blue. It began to tremble, before beginning to crack, and then all of a sudden gave way.

A small, fuzzy fluffball would tumble out, catching herself and sitting back on her butt, blinking rapidly as she tried to orient herself.

Among the glittering quartz of Orion lay one rough, hard, brittle gem that blended right in. It lay upon the wall, coarser and dirtier than those that studded the cave roof like so many stars. Those gems along the ceiling were bright and clear, but those along the wall were dusty with the passage of years, streaks of white along the stone.

This diamond was hardly discernable from the quartz, but for one change: there was something pale moving within. This light thing had not moved for years, but now it did: small shifts of white fur beneath the hard gem. The diamond itself, already a thing easily-broken, though hard, had begun to cleave itself apart over time. Now all it required was a little push, and the half-conscious creature within, drawing on some barely-recognized instinct, gave it that.

A calm, powerful surge of magicka welled up within him, coiling within and pouring outward in a sharp blast, cracking the diamond chrysalis in a perfect pattern that fell away in glittering shards.

The white fawn within tumbled forth, landing briefly on his feet before trembling and sagging down, unable yet to stand on his own. Pale silver-grey eyes opened, his antlerless head turning to and fro as he regarded this new and shimmering world around him.

From what he saw thus far, he was fairly satisfied.

Dragon huffed, and panted, and again, he had to stop.

Why was this place so dry? And why was it so pointy? He hated it. It was nothing like his swamp, like the dark mist and the wet, squelchy ground. He'd never been here, not to his memory at least--but the bones made him wonder. As he lay silent in the dusty bones, jaw slightly agape, his dark eyes looked over the fortresses in the distance.

It was true, then. Some time, long ago, so many had died that their bones were piled into shelters for the still-living. And the entrance to this cave... its eerie tunnel, the place where nothing should be--it had felt distinctly not-right.

He hated it.

The only reason he was even here was to consult with the reader-of-bones; he'd been told that she could tell fortunes, long ago, and that they were supposedly fairly accurate.

Dragon wanted to test this seer. He wanted to know what she could tell him, what she might see in his own future. Or for the caves, and for them all. With another huff he started forward once more, his right hind leg dragging where it lay twisted behind him, the thick scars on his back glinting in the low light. At length, he lost patience, and inhaled deeply. Magicka coiled within him, swelling and heating in his gut, and he opened his jaws skyward.

A plume of orange flame billowed upward, spewing forth in a torrent of fire that illuminated the bones all around him. And then, past the searing pain of this--long used to it, by now--he bellowed.

"BONE-READER. I SEEK YOU."