<![CDATA[ORIGIN - Pisces]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/ Sat, 24 Oct 2026 17:38:55 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[And the hound is howling]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=13013 Tue, 13 Oct 2026 14:01:27 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=13013 <![CDATA[venturing forth]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12931 Tue, 11 Aug 2026 02:38:42 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12931 <![CDATA[Lovely Day for a Swim]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12762 Thu, 02 Jul 2026 14:30:33 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12762 Oh, how Lotte enjoyed swimming. While her mother's face often puckered in distaste whenever she mentioned her little excursions to Pisces, the activity really was best done here, especially during the intolerable heat that currently swept through a fair amount of the places her family usually frequented. Pristine white feathers, beautiful yet heavy, were cooled so well by the waters here. And the myriad pools she spent her time gliding about in? They were natural works of art, fascinating ripples spreading out across their surfaces whenever she kicked her webbed feet, an ever-shifting canvas influenced by motion.

"West," she called out, lapping about the pond, her pleasant mood reflected in the brightness of her tone. "Why don't you join me? The water's very nice right now. You might like it."

Unvoiced was the suggestion his temper might lessen if exposed to lower temperatures. Pisces' entirety was cold, but being exposed to the water sprayed as she swam past was likely a fair bit more soothing than simply sulking in a corner.

The bird in question stood a fair ways off from where she paddled, dark eyes burning holes into the mosses and grasses blanketing the floor near the cavern walls. Though the ceaseless crash of the cave's main feature, its waterfall, likely obscured most of her invitation, a sudden shifting of feet betrayed that the message had been received. Shoulders shook, signalling the signature scoff she'd expected. Nevertheless, she offered again, ever accommodating to her smaller yet older sibling's mercurial tendencies.

"Of course, I don't mean swim. That'd be silly." She laughed. It was raucous, far from her mother's soft chiming to her continued disappointment. "But it's cooler over here. And surely there's something you can grow too," she said, dangling an opportunity over the other Gembound's beak.

In order to host so many fish, the Lessers had to live off something, and she'd seen green growths in the depths whenever she plunged her beak below the surface of any pond. If West wished to cultivate his talents, he could do just as well closer to her where she could ensure his safety from any large predator that might cross their paths. Mother Miriam would be so cross if she lost either one of them to any "filthy ruffians roaming the caves."
]]> Oh, how Lotte enjoyed swimming. While her mother's face often puckered in distaste whenever she mentioned her little excursions to Pisces, the activity really was best done here, especially during the intolerable heat that currently swept through a fair amount of the places her family usually frequented. Pristine white feathers, beautiful yet heavy, were cooled so well by the waters here. And the myriad pools she spent her time gliding about in? They were natural works of art, fascinating ripples spreading out across their surfaces whenever she kicked her webbed feet, an ever-shifting canvas influenced by motion.

"West," she called out, lapping about the pond, her pleasant mood reflected in the brightness of her tone. "Why don't you join me? The water's very nice right now. You might like it."

Unvoiced was the suggestion his temper might lessen if exposed to lower temperatures. Pisces' entirety was cold, but being exposed to the water sprayed as she swam past was likely a fair bit more soothing than simply sulking in a corner.

The bird in question stood a fair ways off from where she paddled, dark eyes burning holes into the mosses and grasses blanketing the floor near the cavern walls. Though the ceaseless crash of the cave's main feature, its waterfall, likely obscured most of her invitation, a sudden shifting of feet betrayed that the message had been received. Shoulders shook, signalling the signature scoff she'd expected. Nevertheless, she offered again, ever accommodating to her smaller yet older sibling's mercurial tendencies.

"Of course, I don't mean swim. That'd be silly." She laughed. It was raucous, far from her mother's soft chiming to her continued disappointment. "But it's cooler over here. And surely there's something you can grow too," she said, dangling an opportunity over the other Gembound's beak.

In order to host so many fish, the Lessers had to live off something, and she'd seen green growths in the depths whenever she plunged her beak below the surface of any pond. If West wished to cultivate his talents, he could do just as well closer to her where she could ensure his safety from any large predator that might cross their paths. Mother Miriam would be so cross if she lost either one of them to any "filthy ruffians roaming the caves."
]]> <![CDATA[he should be playing with boo boo keys, he's literally 1]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12662 Sat, 06 Jun 2026 12:09:56 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12662 Emerging from his chrysalis had not been an easy experience.

First, it had been dark. Miserably so. And loud it echoed around the small shell Worm had found himself in, a loud roaring that never seemed to end. Instinct told him to push, so push he did. He scratched with pinprick claws, gnawed with baby teeth until eventually a hole broke through the barrier that kept him from the outside. Yet, the moment the crystalline barrier caved in, water splashed through the small opening he'd made.

It was cold and wet, he pushed himself as far away from the sensation as he could; it was just a few droplets, but that was all he needed to decide he hated it.

Which, only made his skin crawl when he poked his head out of the top of the chrysalis to see nothing but water. Water as far as the eye could see, his chrysalises had been bobbing out in it. A lone island in this sea of nothing but crystal clear waters.

So, he hatched the only plan someone could do in his shoes. He cried. A mournful caterwauling only echoed across the waters, all from a body so small it could fit into a palm. He yowled for something he did not know. For comfort, for saving. Yet, all that had answered was his own voice, echoing back from across the waters.

Eventually, he'd curled up at the bottom of the floating chrysalis; frightened, petrified that any moment his makeshift boat would take on water and sink. If anyone peeped inside, they'd only see a pair of big, round eyes, peering back out at them. Watching the sky fearfully, frozen, like the slightest movement would wobble the shell and capsize it; which very well may have been true.

It was a small miracle that the lagoon had been so still. Eventually, gembound and chrysalis would be washed up. His first days were spent curled up inside the chrysalis, first afloat on the lagoon, then on its shoreline. Even when it was safely on land, he refused to leave; pushing himself as far back against the back walls as he could.

There were sounds, noises, smells and Worm had no way of knowing what they were. If they were just as terrifying as his awakening into this world.

Soon, the sounds of waters rising, lapping back at the shell of his chrysalis hiding spot would spur him into movement. Over the days, the chrysalis had decayed further, falling away until there was no roof above Worm any more. Until there were more holes than walls.

He'd fled then.

Bolted into the open and ran, and ran, and ran. Until his little lungs burned, until his paws stung, until the cool air stung his throat and he couldn't keep going any longer...

...Worm heaved for breath when he came skittering to a stop, the waters were smaller here. Full of slippery creatures that never seemed to venture outside their ponds. Too exhausted to run further, but too frightened to remain still. Everything was loud, bright, new. It sent prickling sensations up his hackles, deeply uncomfortable feelings and his chest-- His chest, it hurt. It felt as if something inside of it was going to thump its way out of his ribs.

It is with great reluctance he remains stopped by the ponds. Looking thin, dehydrated and wrecked. Barely a few inches big and full of an exhaustion only an adult should know. Worm doesn't lay down, he can't make his legs do that, so instead he stands hunched awkwardly over his legs; as if trying to balance his weight carefully on them without needing to strain his muscles further.

There were all sorts of things around him, ponds, rocks, creatures in the waters and out of them. He didn't know what any of them were. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. 'What now? What next? When would it all stop being so new and scary?'
He threw his head back and yowled once more. For what? He didn't know. Perhaps someone or something would come to him, and tell him it would just be alright.

Maybe.

]]> Emerging from his chrysalis had not been an easy experience.

First, it had been dark. Miserably so. And loud it echoed around the small shell Worm had found himself in, a loud roaring that never seemed to end. Instinct told him to push, so push he did. He scratched with pinprick claws, gnawed with baby teeth until eventually a hole broke through the barrier that kept him from the outside. Yet, the moment the crystalline barrier caved in, water splashed through the small opening he'd made.

It was cold and wet, he pushed himself as far away from the sensation as he could; it was just a few droplets, but that was all he needed to decide he hated it.

Which, only made his skin crawl when he poked his head out of the top of the chrysalis to see nothing but water. Water as far as the eye could see, his chrysalises had been bobbing out in it. A lone island in this sea of nothing but crystal clear waters.

So, he hatched the only plan someone could do in his shoes. He cried. A mournful caterwauling only echoed across the waters, all from a body so small it could fit into a palm. He yowled for something he did not know. For comfort, for saving. Yet, all that had answered was his own voice, echoing back from across the waters.

Eventually, he'd curled up at the bottom of the floating chrysalis; frightened, petrified that any moment his makeshift boat would take on water and sink. If anyone peeped inside, they'd only see a pair of big, round eyes, peering back out at them. Watching the sky fearfully, frozen, like the slightest movement would wobble the shell and capsize it; which very well may have been true.

It was a small miracle that the lagoon had been so still. Eventually, gembound and chrysalis would be washed up. His first days were spent curled up inside the chrysalis, first afloat on the lagoon, then on its shoreline. Even when it was safely on land, he refused to leave; pushing himself as far back against the back walls as he could.

There were sounds, noises, smells and Worm had no way of knowing what they were. If they were just as terrifying as his awakening into this world.

Soon, the sounds of waters rising, lapping back at the shell of his chrysalis hiding spot would spur him into movement. Over the days, the chrysalis had decayed further, falling away until there was no roof above Worm any more. Until there were more holes than walls.

He'd fled then.

Bolted into the open and ran, and ran, and ran. Until his little lungs burned, until his paws stung, until the cool air stung his throat and he couldn't keep going any longer...

...Worm heaved for breath when he came skittering to a stop, the waters were smaller here. Full of slippery creatures that never seemed to venture outside their ponds. Too exhausted to run further, but too frightened to remain still. Everything was loud, bright, new. It sent prickling sensations up his hackles, deeply uncomfortable feelings and his chest-- His chest, it hurt. It felt as if something inside of it was going to thump its way out of his ribs.

It is with great reluctance he remains stopped by the ponds. Looking thin, dehydrated and wrecked. Barely a few inches big and full of an exhaustion only an adult should know. Worm doesn't lay down, he can't make his legs do that, so instead he stands hunched awkwardly over his legs; as if trying to balance his weight carefully on them without needing to strain his muscles further.

There were all sorts of things around him, ponds, rocks, creatures in the waters and out of them. He didn't know what any of them were. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. 'What now? What next? When would it all stop being so new and scary?'
He threw his head back and yowled once more. For what? He didn't know. Perhaps someone or something would come to him, and tell him it would just be alright.

Maybe.

]]> <![CDATA[what's that song by cavetown, again?]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12628 Fri, 29 May 2026 10:54:43 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12628 Sand was a very unfortunate substrate for a chrysalis to grow on - eventually it'll be swept away by the underwater currents and there was little it could do to hold onto something more firm. It was supposed to hatch elsewhere, in Fornax, where the waters were warm and vast, but it had chosen a spot too close to the tunnels and so the currents had swept it away. With only the sand to anchor it, it was loose and free and would be swept through the water for some time until at last, it was hurled over the falls of Pisces.

Still small when it happened, it was ejected from the spray and tumbled down, not into the lagoon, but onto the wet stones near the ponds. There, at last, it found a solid surface and attached itself.

But it wasn't supposed to hatch here. The creature inside was meant for a life underwater, yet circumstances would give it a poor start. When at last the chrysalis had grown, and it began to hatch, it was ejected onto the hard stone floor. A mixture of water and amniotic fluid kept it wet and drenched as it came to consciousness for a few moments longer. But under open air and the bright lights, its scales quickly began to dry. And its attempt to take a breath through gills utterly failed.

And so, the first thing Edgar knew in his life, was panic.

The poor juvenile shark squirmed on the stones, tail and fins flailing desperately, but he could barely move himself, especially under the weight of the dorsal fin citrine which was, for the moment, far, far too big for his small body. Instinct kicked in as he realized he was getting nowhere and magic sputtered to life, unconsciously calling out for help. A high pitched humming song vibrated through the air - all he could do without having a breath to spare.
]]> Sand was a very unfortunate substrate for a chrysalis to grow on - eventually it'll be swept away by the underwater currents and there was little it could do to hold onto something more firm. It was supposed to hatch elsewhere, in Fornax, where the waters were warm and vast, but it had chosen a spot too close to the tunnels and so the currents had swept it away. With only the sand to anchor it, it was loose and free and would be swept through the water for some time until at last, it was hurled over the falls of Pisces.

Still small when it happened, it was ejected from the spray and tumbled down, not into the lagoon, but onto the wet stones near the ponds. There, at last, it found a solid surface and attached itself.

But it wasn't supposed to hatch here. The creature inside was meant for a life underwater, yet circumstances would give it a poor start. When at last the chrysalis had grown, and it began to hatch, it was ejected onto the hard stone floor. A mixture of water and amniotic fluid kept it wet and drenched as it came to consciousness for a few moments longer. But under open air and the bright lights, its scales quickly began to dry. And its attempt to take a breath through gills utterly failed.

And so, the first thing Edgar knew in his life, was panic.

The poor juvenile shark squirmed on the stones, tail and fins flailing desperately, but he could barely move himself, especially under the weight of the dorsal fin citrine which was, for the moment, far, far too big for his small body. Instinct kicked in as he realized he was getting nowhere and magic sputtered to life, unconsciously calling out for help. A high pitched humming song vibrated through the air - all he could do without having a breath to spare.
]]> <![CDATA[And Then There Were Two]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12597 Mon, 18 May 2026 11:53:42 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12597 Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
Seizure


The last few days, the body of Triage had begun to deteriorate. They had felt it coming for a while, some strain on them that they couldn't shake off. Like a chord stretched too tight, about to break. Headaches broke out frequently across the three. Breath came short. Their magic wasn't listening to them as they strained, day by day, to walk, to move. Were they ill? Were they dying?

Illness was what they assumed. And so Buckley took care of them, forcing the body to rest, in a small pocket of Pisces, away from excitement. Where the water was clear and the prey was easy to catch. Where they could sleep off this illness and continue on like nothing was wrong. It was strange, though, for Gore to be so silent. They often caught it staring into the distance, shaking itself out when one called its name. More concerning, it dropped the sword-staff on occasion during these moments. Its jaw muscles had gone slack.

Ishani had taken to keeping an eye on it. She had grown quiet, concerned, making sure that they were taking care of themselves. Her clever mind worked through explanations, solutions, anything she could think of to help the rest of the body get better. Buckley did his best, but nothing was improving. They only got worse.

The morning that It happened was a rough one. The body woke, groggy, exhausted, heavy. There was something heavy in Buckley's chest, like a heartburn. And on Gore's skull, and Ishani's forehead. The cord was fraying, they all knew, but they didn't know why. What was going to happen when it broke? Buckley pushed past it, heaving the body up from their nest, expecting a bleating complaint from Gore, but found nothing. The goat was lethargic, blinking slowly, its head lolling to the side.

"Hey," Buckley rumbled as he dragged the body out of the den with only the front legs. "Gore. Can you move for me?"

"Shhhh hhgghhh" it groaned, rolling its head so it was braced against Buckley's mane. "Hurts."

"I know." He didn't. Not really. But his heartburn was getting worse. He just needed water. Yes, water would cool it. That's what they needed.

Ishani was staring at Gore and then she leaned forward to nudge him, quietly asking, "Are you there? What do you feel?"

Gore swallowed, heavy, hissing quietly. "GGhhh...faint."

Worry consumed her. She pulled for magic, any magic, to try and feel what Gore was feeling, but Buckley's magic failed her, unpracticed as she was in it. She could only think and begin to realize herself what might be happening.

Why hadn't they seen anyone else like them? In the many cycles they'd wandered, no other gembound had more then one gemestone. Some had multiple heads, but they were all one. They...were three. They were different. And that wasn't always a good thing.

She'd been feeling it too, faint, like she wasn't quite all there. She had an idea of what was happening. And the pressure on her forehead, where her gemstone sat, was further evidence.

"Fight it, Gore. Okay? Stay with us." she whispered. The goat nodded, eyes squeezing shut.

They were okay for a while like that, as Buckley finally dragged them to the shore of the lagoon and reached over to take a drink. The cool water felt good in his throat, but it did nothing to ease the heartburn that was only getting worse. He squeezed his own eyes shut and backed up, laying there at the edge of the water. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It was going to pass.

It wasn't passing. It was ramping up, getting worse, more and more painful, quicker and quicker. And then they seized.

All three of them, at once. Their vision whited out and consciousness flattened as the body of Triage convulsed. They were all weak and fading and losing themselves in that moment, but they hung on. Gore was losing the fight, bleating as its head swung. The burning on its skull was like fire on the skin, slowly being snuffed out as the other two raged on. But Ishani had told it to fight, so it did.

They could all faintly feel the tail that was Ishani curling in on itself, hissing wildly. They could feel three fires, desperately holding on, begging to be fed. It was all they could feel, three fires competing for a moment as the source began to die, and then, one stopped its fight and was snuffed out in an instant.

The body relaxed. Consciousness flickered, and briefly went out.

Buckley opened his eyes first, head pounding, but the heartburn was, thankfully, gone. He groaned as he pulled himself back to a sitting position, paw coming up to rub at his head. He looked back to the rest of the body, where Ishani, too, had raised herself from the ground and was turning to look at the same time. Gore's head was limp.

"Hey," Buckley croaked. "Gore."

His shoulder rolled back, nudging the goat's head, which also began to stir. It's eyes blinked blearily open with a growl. "Whaaaat...just happened..." It grumbled. It looked to Ishani, who was hovering nearby. "What were you...saying to me?"

She didn't respond. She simply stared forward ahead at Buckley, who looked back. Something dropped in his stomach. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ishani was always moving a bit, looking, watching, whispering. Now she stared blankly at him, looking without seeing. She gave no notion that she had even heard Gore speaking.

She was gone.

"Buckley is speaking!" "GORE IS SPEAKING!!!" "Ishani is speaking..."

]]> Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
Seizure


The last few days, the body of Triage had begun to deteriorate. They had felt it coming for a while, some strain on them that they couldn't shake off. Like a chord stretched too tight, about to break. Headaches broke out frequently across the three. Breath came short. Their magic wasn't listening to them as they strained, day by day, to walk, to move. Were they ill? Were they dying?

Illness was what they assumed. And so Buckley took care of them, forcing the body to rest, in a small pocket of Pisces, away from excitement. Where the water was clear and the prey was easy to catch. Where they could sleep off this illness and continue on like nothing was wrong. It was strange, though, for Gore to be so silent. They often caught it staring into the distance, shaking itself out when one called its name. More concerning, it dropped the sword-staff on occasion during these moments. Its jaw muscles had gone slack.

Ishani had taken to keeping an eye on it. She had grown quiet, concerned, making sure that they were taking care of themselves. Her clever mind worked through explanations, solutions, anything she could think of to help the rest of the body get better. Buckley did his best, but nothing was improving. They only got worse.

The morning that It happened was a rough one. The body woke, groggy, exhausted, heavy. There was something heavy in Buckley's chest, like a heartburn. And on Gore's skull, and Ishani's forehead. The cord was fraying, they all knew, but they didn't know why. What was going to happen when it broke? Buckley pushed past it, heaving the body up from their nest, expecting a bleating complaint from Gore, but found nothing. The goat was lethargic, blinking slowly, its head lolling to the side.

"Hey," Buckley rumbled as he dragged the body out of the den with only the front legs. "Gore. Can you move for me?"

"Shhhh hhgghhh" it groaned, rolling its head so it was braced against Buckley's mane. "Hurts."

"I know." He didn't. Not really. But his heartburn was getting worse. He just needed water. Yes, water would cool it. That's what they needed.

Ishani was staring at Gore and then she leaned forward to nudge him, quietly asking, "Are you there? What do you feel?"

Gore swallowed, heavy, hissing quietly. "GGhhh...faint."

Worry consumed her. She pulled for magic, any magic, to try and feel what Gore was feeling, but Buckley's magic failed her, unpracticed as she was in it. She could only think and begin to realize herself what might be happening.

Why hadn't they seen anyone else like them? In the many cycles they'd wandered, no other gembound had more then one gemestone. Some had multiple heads, but they were all one. They...were three. They were different. And that wasn't always a good thing.

She'd been feeling it too, faint, like she wasn't quite all there. She had an idea of what was happening. And the pressure on her forehead, where her gemstone sat, was further evidence.

"Fight it, Gore. Okay? Stay with us." she whispered. The goat nodded, eyes squeezing shut.

They were okay for a while like that, as Buckley finally dragged them to the shore of the lagoon and reached over to take a drink. The cool water felt good in his throat, but it did nothing to ease the heartburn that was only getting worse. He squeezed his own eyes shut and backed up, laying there at the edge of the water. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It was going to pass.

It wasn't passing. It was ramping up, getting worse, more and more painful, quicker and quicker. And then they seized.

All three of them, at once. Their vision whited out and consciousness flattened as the body of Triage convulsed. They were all weak and fading and losing themselves in that moment, but they hung on. Gore was losing the fight, bleating as its head swung. The burning on its skull was like fire on the skin, slowly being snuffed out as the other two raged on. But Ishani had told it to fight, so it did.

They could all faintly feel the tail that was Ishani curling in on itself, hissing wildly. They could feel three fires, desperately holding on, begging to be fed. It was all they could feel, three fires competing for a moment as the source began to die, and then, one stopped its fight and was snuffed out in an instant.

The body relaxed. Consciousness flickered, and briefly went out.

Buckley opened his eyes first, head pounding, but the heartburn was, thankfully, gone. He groaned as he pulled himself back to a sitting position, paw coming up to rub at his head. He looked back to the rest of the body, where Ishani, too, had raised herself from the ground and was turning to look at the same time. Gore's head was limp.

"Hey," Buckley croaked. "Gore."

His shoulder rolled back, nudging the goat's head, which also began to stir. It's eyes blinked blearily open with a growl. "Whaaaat...just happened..." It grumbled. It looked to Ishani, who was hovering nearby. "What were you...saying to me?"

She didn't respond. She simply stared forward ahead at Buckley, who looked back. Something dropped in his stomach. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ishani was always moving a bit, looking, watching, whispering. Now she stared blankly at him, looking without seeing. She gave no notion that she had even heard Gore speaking.

She was gone.

"Buckley is speaking!" "GORE IS SPEAKING!!!" "Ishani is speaking..."

]]>