I had watched whatever it was within the shell begin to press against its encasement by placing the round object near the falls of flame and observing the shape through the then made partially opaque oval, at first every few days, but soon enough, I found myself looking in on the growing creature daily. Yesterday I had been sure it would simply break through the lining that held its body, so tightly pressed within it had been, but today seemed far more promising.

It is moving, seemingly working away at the larger end of the egg with such exertion that the egg rocked with the force of its escape attempts in the little nest of stones that I had built on my second day of observation to prevent it from rolling into the fire.

I watch it for many hours, curiosity rising within me and gleeful hope for a companion to share both my soul and the precious sky with.

A small hole forms first until cracks run from the epicenter down the sides, which expand over time. The babe rests from time to time, lying still and panting, then returns to its tedious task, until finally, seemingly a day since I have noticed the beginnings of its birth, my bonded is born.

It is a dog, wet and nearly black from the reticent fluid of its shell, and it tumbles to the stone gracelessly and with a plop.

Female, I notice most immediately, with a sigh.

Wingless, snarls my veins, and my ears meet the silvery blue locks of my mane.

This faraway place is amazing, so fair from the prison in which my heart was maimed. It keeps me from the social pressures that had driven me to smash the last children that had been born as failures, and it spares the animal. It provides me time to manage thought, logic as I know it; God, whichever one it might be, led me to this dog, no matter that it cannot fly and is nearly useless to me.

"Skýlos," I curse at it.

Dog.

A lip twitches in disdain of the grin that courts it.

The most piteous of sounds breaks from its lips, as I find pale blue eyes peering at me from a sticky face and a faintly pink tongue probing towards a steel hued nose; it desires food.

Perhaps it is the only reason it escaped its prison at all.

Thankfully for the flightless wretch, I have thought ahead. I nudge the dead bat at my feet towards the mutt and watch as she falls upon it quite savagely for something so young – though also without any tact, or poise. The first few paw falls are clumsy and small, followed up by a frantic loping that nearly sends the little runt end over end and muzzle first into her meal.

I find myself smiling despite my reservations about her flawed back.

By the time she has finished eating, the wetness of her coat is nearly gone, and I find that she is blue as I am, though without the dark flecking, with white splashes that define the steely shade of her fur in splendid contrast. Pretty, I decide with hesitation, lowering a nose to nudge her back and urge her to walk as I step back several steps, ears raised towards her and voice playfully calling her to my side. " Skýlos, here Dog."

Much to my unsuspected elation, she comes.

[ OOC: @[Brighid] maybeeee?! :D I know we talked about it but yeah. :'D Anyone else is also welcome at any time. <33 ]

Cealestis