woof

[sheltronymous]

[How this scenario came about is left as an exercise for the reader. Timeline divergences work in mysterious ways, none of which even the Ancients knew enough about to predict, let alone the Crystal Exarch in all his quietly desperate scheming. It doesn't matter. There are two Warriors of Light who never met each other prior to Elidibus's death, the situation may eventually resolve itself according to the unknown laws of spatiotemporal inertia, Urianger is too tied up in other affairs right now to puzzle out exactly how the Scions came to acquire two slightly different sets of memories upon their return to the Source, and nobody else cares.

What matters is that Narengawa "no, the shorter Warrior of Light" Kha just walked back into the Rising Stones, a crumpled package from the Ul'dahn Miners' Guild buried somewhere at the bottom of her much-abused backpack, and found a dog. A small, white dog, far fluffier and less practical-looking than any hunting hound she ever spent some small part of her childhood with.

It's sitting on top of the otherwise deserted bar counter, surrounded by muddy paw prints and scratch marks. It yips excitedly at her, wagging its tail. She looks down at it. She looks behind her. She notes, a minute too late, that stepping on the trail of pawprints leading from the entrance to the counter has smeared them impressively widely across the stone floor; F'lhaminn won't be very happy about that.

She looks down at the dog again, frowning.]

...Alphinaud, is that you?

[Alphinaud is not here, having been called away to Lake Silvertear to speak with an Alliance representative less than a bell ago. Nor is his sister, who got restless waiting for him to bring back tidings from the Ghimlyt front and left to go take out her impatience on a wild morbol. There is only this dog.]

Comments

[bythefurry]

[If there is a quality one cannot deny Joscelaint "you know, the one who sorta looks like a tree?" Grimpevers possesses, it's his ability to roll with the punches, finely tuned after years of Warrior of Light business and the occasional bout of Hildibrand babysitting.

At least, that's what it looks like on the surface. Although he so far hasn't voiced it - hasn't voiced much of anything, to be perfectly fair - he can't help but feel the dragon of anxiety's ever increasing grip around his heart. It's been some years since he thought himself completely unfit to bear the title of Warrior of Light, but in light of the current situation the feelings of inadequacy he thought he'd finally left behind are suddenly rearing their ugly head again.

Maybe Narengawa was meant to be the true Warrior of Light all along. Maybe, though the Scions remember him - remember both of them - his existence is an aberration that must needs be excised from the timeline. Maybe Ern and his other friends aren't actually off on some other business, as he was told by a slightly confused Tataru who also remembered names and faces associated with the Au Ra woman, but rather gone, their lives completely different in this alternate world.

Or maybe he's overthinking, his eyes having completely glazed over the same two lines of a book for what now feels like eons. He puts the book down on the nearby desk and sighs wearily, allowing himself this little show of frustration in the currently deserted side room. Although the Rising Stones are blessedly empty right now, it wasn't the case two bells ago when he'd needed to be alone with his thoughts, and so he'd naturally retreated to the Dawn's Respite to do just that.

Well. Perhaps a drink would take some of the edge off the wild beating of his heart. Joss isn't the type to drown his sorrows, but it doesn't mean he shouldn't be allowed a glass or two in these trying times.

When he opens the door to the main room, all he catches is Naren's hesitant question, and the thumping of a dog's tail on the - by the Fury, what happened to the counter?!

He advances, his steps surprisingly silent for a man of his size. Maybe Naren sees him. Maybe she doesn't. Either way, he slides behind her to take a look at the unknown creature, his gaze meeting the dog's as if he were trying to detect a hint of Alphinaud in it. He's fairly sure the teen had not been a dog when he'd retired to a quieter room a few bells before. Does Naren have any reason to think it's him? Have others been turned into dogs? And if that's the case, the most important question: who let them out???]

Dogmatic...

[Out of the myriad possibilities, this is the only thing Joss's ever multi-track drifting train of thought can come up with.]

[sheltronymous]

[The vaguely prickling feeling of Joss's aether-dense presence draws Naren's attention a moment before his soft footfalls reach her horns, but he's a difficult man to miss once she actually turns her head. Ah... him. The other one. The one who looks a lot more like Naren's idea of a champion of the Eorzean people than she does.

(Trees are Eorzean. She's from the Shroud.)]

Hm.

[She'd thought him too stern to joke around much, but she can't imagine what else that could mean. On the other hand, it would undermine her even worse to laugh like part of her wants to and have it turn out he was serious. What if it upset him? It's hard to get a read on him as is.

She looks back down at the dog instead, her expression hardening - or so it might seem, but she's mostly at a loss here, too. It has white hair, it's small and cute, it seems optimistic about its prospects, and it has already devastated the bar counter more than it could possibly have intended - not even just the counter, she notes on a second glance, spotting the twinkle of glass bottle shards on the floor behind it. What about it isn't like Alphinaud? Yet the creature shows no sign of recognising the name, so she must have been mistaken. (W)Oof. Some part of her had wanted to disappear from the Rising Stones from the moment she first bumped into the unsettlingly aloof Elezen man there, and while she refrained from going off the grid this time in case some strange new temporal crisis was in the works, she's already wondering if that was the wrong call.

Which is... unhelpful. Come on, focus on the situation in front of her. There is a dog here. There should not be a dog here. All other problems can be shunted aside for later, or possibly never. Yeah.]

'Twould be best if we remove it before cleaning. [She swings her enormous backpack off her back, dumps it on top of a table near the bar with a frankly ominous thud, then reaches inside one of its probably festering side pockets.] I have a sack.

[She does, in fact, have a sack. Somewhere. There used to be a chicken in it. Does she need to shove the dog in a sack before carrying it outside? Hells, she doesn't know. Maybe it's venomous. She's improvising.]

[bythefurry]

[Since Joss was completely serious, Naren's noncommittal answer suits him just fine.

As for the dog... well, he's no stranger to shoving all manners of creatures into the burlap sacks so kindly provided to him by quest givers, but he does usually feel a little bad about it. The way they react tends to fall into two categories: the ones that angrily thrash about, in which case he's really glad there's a layer of thick fabric between them and his hands... and the ones that just whine pitifully the entire time and make him feel like the scum of the earth.

He doesn't want to know which category this dog who suspiciously looks like Alphinaud falls into. Maybe there's another way.

He shakes his head, slightly raising a hand in front of him in order to ask Naren to hold.]

Food. It might lure it away.

[The small dog's expression is completely unreadable. Joss shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of where the unease he's experiencing comes from.

When he can finally tear his gaze away, just late enough for it to be awkward, he reaches into a pouch in his belt and retrieves a slice of chocobo jerky. Will the dog be interested in this treat? He doesn't know, but he tries waving it in front of its face a little.]

[sheltronymous]

[The dog isn't just interested, it looks enraptured. It jumps up to try and nip the jerky right out of Joss's hand, but misses, landing back on its muddy little paws.

Not discouraged in the slightest, it then levitates about a yalm above the bar counter, rapidly rotating its fluffy tail, and launches itself at the jerky like a missile.]

By the Twelve -

[That's it, Naren knew it was a bad idea to defer to this man. (Unless it wasn't. She doesn't know, actually. She really hasn't dealt with many friendly dogs before.) Dropping her freshly retrieved burlap sack on the table beside her bag, she reaches down to draw her sword instead. Of course, Joss is standing a lot closer...]

[bythefurry]

[Joss is actually, as of 0.2 seconds ago, no longer standing a lot closer. The reason for this being, of course, the instinctive elusive jump that propelled him to the other side of the room the moment the dog started floating.]

Fury take me-

[Having miraculously avoided hitting his head on the ceiling, he spins on one foot to sidestep the dog's mad charge. This is not a slow moving missile, although part of his brain could swear he heard the familiar noise.

Well. They're at least closer to the door that leads out to Revenant's Toll. The problem is, the dog is between Joss and the door now, emitting little barks as it jumps excitedly in mid-air as if trying to find a good angle to snatch the snack from Joss's hand.

Joss who, having neither armor nor weapon on him at the moment, assumes a barehanded stance in response. He doesn't know what good it'll do him. He's never had to wrestle a levitating canine.

As the Ishgardians say, they're kind of looking at each other like earthenware dogs.

Also you can probably assume it just looks something like this.]

[sheltronymous]

[If Naren's habit of compartmentalising were just a little less ingrained, she might have afforded herself a moment to be impressed that Joss's head did not thwack straight into the ceiling. It was already close enough before he left the ground, how did he do that? Instead, the thought will simply torment her late at night.

In the meantime, she didn't survive this long by being slow to react in the face of danger. She strides up behind the dog, sack in one hand, sword in the other. Just as the creature realises it's hemmed in and takes aim at Joss's jerky once more - did it just make a revving sound this time? - she brings the entire sack down over its head, as if trapping a vilekin in a net.

Now it's the sack that is floating a few ilms off the ground. It squirms and paws at the fabric, emitting a predictably pitiful muffled whine. Outwardly unmoved, only a twitch of her tail betraying the complete blur the inside of her head is right now, Naren sheathes her weapon and takes the bundle of dog under her arm.]

Are you hurt?

[It's still squirming. She is definitely the worst person alive on this entire star.]

[bythefurry]

[Oh, that pitiful whine... Are they the baddies? Joss is the one who suggested using food to lure that strange dog away, he can't exactly blame it for wanting to eat it.

He shakes his head.]

Surprised.

[He's just glad he didn't break his neck on the ceiling. His ghost would have just died all over again, of embarrassment.

Humming thoughtfully, he gently pokes the bag with a finger. The dog whelps helplessly. How awful of him. He's truly a horrible person who just tormented a dog for no reason and other animals are going to be able to feel it somehow and start hating him on principle.]

Better take it outside. [Except... somehow, he doesn't think Revenant's Toll is ready to deal with a flying, revving dog. The only hint such a thought crosses his mind is the suddenly distant look in his eyes, which he chases away with a blink.] Far outside. [...] I'll get my armor.

[Would be a shame to come back from saving two worlds only to get eaten by a morbol.]

[sheltronymous]

[Naren allows herself a very small sigh. Under different circumstances, she might have questioned aloud why Joss invited himself along - but no, the notion of this thing wriggling free somehow and zipping around the Revenant's Toll markets because there was only one watchful pair of eyes on it sounds considerably worse.] Due precaution, I suppose. I'll wait here.

[Waiting in silence for ambiguous lengths of time is just what she does. In fact, maybe it's what she needs in order to calm down a bit, just while Joss is out of sight. The dog can't get out of the Rising Stones until they take it outside themselves.

Or so she thought. All of a sudden, her resignation turns into suspicion. She squints down at the bundle, still secured under her arm as tightly as she dares. At the exact same moment, its whimpering and its struggling both seem to have ceased. Did it... die? Did she end up killing someone's beloved weird pet from sheer stress? Is she an even more horrible person than she thought?

She wrenches the sack back open. Joss may return to find her staring blankly into its open mouth. The entire bag continues to float slightly above the floor.]

...

[There is no dog inside. There is only a small, white, hollow carapace filled with tiny glittering crystals.]

It... escaped.

[bythefurry]

[The ambiguous length of time turns out to be a fairly short one. Joss is, of course, the type to get increasingly anxious the longer someone has to wait for him to get ready.

What he wasn't ready for was for the dog to just disappear.]

Escaped.

[Some might take his even tone and stony face as a condemnation. Truth is, he's just as baffled as Naren is.

(He's not going to ask if she opened the bag at all or did anything that might have allowed the dog to escape. He assumes that if she had, she wouldn't look so puzzled.)

Crossing his arms under his scandalously exposed armpits, he crouches to observe the curiously-still-floating bag from a different angle. Any hole in it? ... No, that'd be too easy.

He shakes his head. His overgrown hair brushes against his scandalously exposed shoulders. Maybe whatever's left in the bag can hint at what happened.]

May I?

[It's rude to reach into other people's bags without asking.]

[sheltronymous]

[Naren does not miss that hint of hint of judging tone, or what sounds like it. This time it's the corner of her mouth that twitches, not just her tail. Still, she restrains that visceral reaction to a curt, wordless nod and she hands the sack over to Joss.

The sack itself will fall away once opened a little wider, because it's really the eyeless dog-shaped husk inside hovering under its own power. It looks fluffy enough to be mistaken for the real thing, gaping hole in the back notwithstanding, but the "hairs" are brittle and crumble into yet more twinkling crystal dust at the touch. The mess spread across the floor of the Rising Stones is rapidly approaching the state of emergency that the bar counter was already in.

Thinking to at least pull a mop and bucket out from behind the bar for later convenience while Joss conducts his apparently more competent investigation, Naren gingerly steps back from the exit... and then freezes. Somewhere in the middle distance - perhaps the solar, perhaps Dawn's Respite, maybe even outside the window - a dog barks.]

[bythefurry]

[Joss's more competent examination mostly consists of him prodding the husk with a gloved finger and silently wishing he had Y'shtola's aethersight. What in the Fury's name is that thing? It's awful. The "hair" dust is getting everywhere, including in all of his armor's crevices. He just got changed, though, so it'd be awkward to leave and wash it off before it starts itching...

Not that he has time for that. He abruptly raises his head. Barking...? And surprisingly hard to pinpoint at that.

Abandoning the husk, Joss strides towards the door to Dawn's Respite, opening it wide. Inside, a blur of white fur is leaving muddy pawprints all over the desk, including the book he was reading a few minutes prior. Satisfied with its handiwork (pawdiwork?) the dog looks at him with its beady black eyes and barks.]

In here-

[He freezes. From behind the solar door, another identical bark just echoed.]

[sheltronymous]

[Naren stops mid-stride behind Joss, turning her head. There's no mistaking it: those were separate barks, the dog in Dawn's Respite considerably less muffled than the one off to her side. For a fleeting instant, she wonders if she's about to stumble across yet another corpse in the Brume, but that seems improbable - because they're currently in Mor Dhona, yes, and also because Joss clearly heard the second one too.]

Two of -

[Something yaps behind her. She almost doesn't dare to crane her neck further back to see what it is. When she does, she's greeted by the same(?) dog - nestled in a rack full of wooden training weapons a little ways past the bar counter, hind paws dangling, wagging its tail merrily despite its precarious perch.]

Three of them. Well, I see this is happening.

[And she has absolutely no idea how to solve it, but she must. No matter what this looks like, the fact is that the Scions' headquarters have been breached while most of them were away on other business, which means it could happen again. Letting her rising panic prevent her from acting now would be letting them down.]

...Joscelaint. Have you other food to bait them with?

[bythefurry]

[Oh. This is happening, huh. Somehow, something about this situation is dampening the panic he would also normally be experiencing, turning it into quiet resignation. This is the same type of feeling he gets whenever Hildibrand is about to get involved.]

Inspector...

[But that's not what Naren asked him about. He discards the thought with a shake of his head, which doubles up as a negative. He always carries some jerky on him, but no need to stock up when he's at the Scions' headquarters.]

The larder?

[Not that he wants to take food from there without asking the other Scions, but it's not like they have much of a choice... do they? He can feel horrible about it later. Use some of his personal funds to refill the pantry, maybe.

Wherever it is I'm sure they won't find another dog in it.]

[sheltronymous]

[Naren nods again, because the larder does sound like the only obvious recourse; she doesn't have any dog-friendly rations on her either, having planned only to drop off the package Tataru requested and then return to Ul'dah. Oh, how far away the desert sands seem now, compared to the twinkling dog residue on the floor. Such devastation was not her intention.

The good news is that they do not find a single dog in the larder. The bad news is that there are two, bringing the sum total up to at least five. One is up on a shelf, pushing a slow but steady stream of pots and jars over the edge. The other is happily chasing a large wheel of cheese around the larder in a wobbly circle.

The worse news is that, smack dab in the centre of that cheesy pawprint trail, floating half a yalm or so above the floor, an aetherial rift pulses ominously in the shape of a dog.

Naren bites her lip. Reaching for her sword again is unequivocally the wrong response here, so she refrains, but she can't think of another. Her mind is a complete blank. It's been some time since she felt this thoroughly out of her depth - maybe not since waking up on the First, a lifetime ago.]

...I fear this is outside my expertise. [You can tell she's stressed out if she's admitting that aloud.] But... could it be the source?

[bythefurry]

[The steady stream of pots being pushed off the shelf punctuates the rise in Joss's anxiety levels. Right now, defeating another Ascian seems entirely more feasible than putting an end to... this. Whatever this is.]

Hmm.

[The vaguely affirmative-yet-noncommittal hum is the only answer he can give Naren. This, too, is far outside his expertise, and though he does respect Naren's ability to admit it at all, as the only two people around it's not like they have much of a choice. Until some of the other Scions get back from their errands, they'll have to at least contain the situation.

Speaking of which, he's not so reckless as to jump headfirst into a rift of unknown origin. Instead, he grabs the first long and thin (and disposable) object he can find - this being a larder, it turns out to be a baguette - and... slowly tries to poke the rift with it.

Alisaie would probably have a lot to say about his fencing.]

[sheltronymous]

[The rift takes 120 piercing damage, because Joss does not have a baguetteer job stone equipped. From the other side of the aetherial tear, something unseen pulls lightly but insistently on the tip of the baguette, as if a small animal has clamped its teeth onto it and thinks it's time to play tug-of-war.

At the same time, equally gently, a few of the fallen potsherds begin to clink and clatter across the floor, into the middle of the room. The two larder dogs also pause and look towards the rift in turn, ears perked up and trails of destruction temporarily allayed.

Naren has no words to express how creepy this looks - it reminds her a little of the late Vauthry commanding his sin eaters - but she has the presence of mind to kick the broken pottery away from the rift with her steel-toed boot. While she can't imagine what might happen if the doggy void manages to absorb the crockery, she certainly doesn't want to encourage it.]

Ware what else you draw in!

[It's only a sinking feeling in her gut for now, but it may bear out soon enough. Not only did the dogs in this room stop what they were doing upon feeling the pull of the void, there's a pitter-patter sound growing louder from beyond the entrance to the larder, suggesting a miniature stampede of muddy little paws...]

i don't know how anyone can think joss is smart

[bythefurry]

[Uh oh.

Joss, still playing tug of war with the creature on the other side of the void, weighs all the options inside his mind. They could try blocking the door to prevent the other dogs from- no, it wouldn't work, not if all of them can teleport. Distract them with food? If the din outside is any indication, the Scions' reserves would probably not last longer than a quarter of a bell.

Defeat the evil at its source?

... Hmm.

He releases his hold on the baguette. The bread gets sucked in with a noise not dissimilar to a chainsaw.]

I'm going in.

[It'll be just like the old times, with Nabriales.]

i mean sagi did

[sheltronymous]

[Behind him, Naren slams the larder door shut, and not a moment too soon - from the other side comes a stream of muffled thuds, reminiscent of extremely slow gunfire, punctuated by the occasional high-pitched yip. She keeps her grip on the door handle as she turns back to Joss with a scowl. The scowl isn't really intentional, it's just that niceties are harder to perform when the parts of her mind that aren't blank with panic right now are so focused on not letting the dogs in.]

Not alone.

[Thump. Thump. Woof. Thump. The door shudders a little with each impact.]

Attune to it while there's time. Perchance identify this source.

[Which makes her sound a lot more certain that it's the source than she really is. It's a bad habit.]

yes but sagi is not very smart himself

[bythefurry]

[Naren's scowl makes Joss shrivel up inside a little, but it doesn't show on his eternally stoic face. He's got bigger problems than trying to figure out the many ways Naren is undoubtedly unhappy with him.

He swallows his spit through his anxiety-clenched throat as he gives her a curt nod, his long arm extending towards the dog-shaped void. Though aether manipulation was never his forte, attuning is a simple enough task.

Or at least it would be, if Joss's entire being didn't get sucked into the rift the moment his aether connected with it.

Glop.]

[sheltronymous]

[Glop.]

Joscelaint!

[Just like that, he's gone. Not even a ripple of his aether is left. The larder itself feels somehow cavernous for his absence, although this is less Naren hesitantly developing a sense of shared struggle than the fact that he was very tall and his armour very spiky. Only the dog-shaped void remains, hovering, pulsing - beckoning. Whoever heard of a dog doing the beckoning?

Naren doesn't think twice. If the simple act of aether attunement is so hazardous, it can't be any safer on the inside. When she lets go of the door handle, a tidal wave of small dogs rushes inside, their little excited paws thundering on the stone floor, but she's already away - diving for the rift, thrusting out a gloved hand - petting the dog? -

- falling -

- falling, alone, through endless night. Open or close her eyes as she might, she can't even see the scales on her neck when she looks down. She remembers the darkness between shards where the Ascians were always wont to flee, and almost thinks she would welcome the sight of one, not yet aware of the one currently wreaking havoc in distant Garlemald. But none appear, and she keeps falling.

She doesn't know how long she spends falling. She only knows that by the time a dull glow becomes visible below, it takes her senses a couple of seconds to readjust to seeing anything at all. By then, the shape is somewhat closer: a huge, whitish clump of crystal-studded rock, roughly rectangular, at least large enough to fit an entire boss arena. One end features two oddly stumpy stalagmites, while at the other end a curved rock formation juts out by itself.

Naren has barely taken note of these details before she realises just how close they are.]

Twelve preserve -

[Wham. A couple of yalms to the right, and those stalagmites might have been the last thing she saw. As is, she just about manages to roll forward where she lands, then steady herself against the uneven rocky ground. That's about it for the next minute or so, however; she's too winded to pick herself up right away, let alone search the vicinity for Joss.

Imagine being a dragoon with more training in such things.]

[bythefurry]

[Time is a strange thing, in the space between worlds. When Naren looks up, she finds the world's saddest-looking skeleton.

... Ok, no. From his perspective, Joss only just fell through the void much like she did, but unlike her his dragoon training did indeed help stick the landing. Why isn't he anywhere in sight, then? Well... Naren might possibly get the answer to that if she looks at the strange tail-like rock, where Joss's tense body is now stranding spear in hand... on the inside of the curve, parallel to the ground the Au Ra is currently catching her breath on.

Joss himself is looking up(?) at where she fell, the sound having caught his attention.]

... Oh.

[What is this Mario Galaxy-looking bullshit, said Joss never, because he's too polite and doesn't know what a videogame is.]

[sheltronymous]

[Presently, Naren rises to her feet and looks around. She does not see Joss. She does grimly take note of the strange triangular twin rock formations in front of her, as well as the oddly curved, bifurcated spire some distance away... Wait, no, that branch on the side isn't shiny enough to be part of the crystal-studded rock. Also, it made a sound.]

Are you all right?

[Whether he is or isn't, whether something mysteriously glued Joss into that position before she crash landed or he found it himself, she's already striding over. A years-long habit of playing hero will do that - as will the vague sense of unease she feels somewhere in the otherwise deadened aether around them. Or perhaps, under them.]

[bythefurry]

[Joss hums affirmatively as he solemnly nods, in turn striding towards the junction between the wide plane Naren is standing on and the protuberance he himself uses as the ground. From his angle, it looks like a particularly tall wall, but...

He takes a deep breath and puts a foot on the wall. His entire world flips over, and the wall is now solid ground.]

Huh.

[Little disorienting, and he might have felt nauseous if he weren't used to spinning, but ok. That certainly won't be relevant very soon, because this is absolutely not a boss arena. The faint, rhythmic vibrations reverberating through the sole of their boots are probably completely coincidental as well (and not anxiety-inducing at all.)

He closes the distance separating him from Naren with a few strides of his terrifyingly long legs.]

You?

[As in "how fare you," but this being Joss it could mean anything.]

[sheltronymous]

Well enough, thank the Twelve. [Despite her misgivings about the man, she can manage one small, genuine smile of relief that Joss is unharmed.] But this rumbling...

[It seems to be picking up in intensity if not actual volume, a shudder running from Naren's boots all the way up to her horns each time it recurs. Like a bass line coming out of a subwoofer, if you will. She can only assume that their true enemy intends to reveal itself soon.]

Below us. [Cautiously drawing her sword, she holds three fingers up with her other hand.] On the count of three, let's strike first. What say you?

[Yes, she does mean she intends to attack the floor they're standing on. What kind of pug tank only gives 3s countdown, nobody can do their opener properly with that, smdh.]

[bythefurry]

[You know what? That wouldn't even be the weirdest thing he's ever had to do, and Naren clearly knows what she's doing. No wonder she's the Warrior of Light in her universe. He's just flying by the seat of his pants.

But now isn't the time to stew in his own sense of inadequacy. He nods as crouches, blue tendrils of scaled light rising up to engulf him. When the signal comes, his high jump should be enough to make a dent in the lifeforce of whatever is coming their way.

(That's not the dragoon opener at all, at least weave it you asshole.)]

[sheltronymous]

[Naren has absolutely no idea what she's doing. Nor does she have any real idea what mystical powers an Azure Dragoon from another universe is supposed to have, her only baseline for comparison being AWOL at this time and known mainly for getting possessed beforehand - the glowing aetheric tendrils around Joss are more than a little intimidating. What she has are some unusually dense reserves of personal aether, a sword, and the determination to commit to an obviously stupid idea if no better ones present themselves. She points the blade toward the strange rocky spire Joss just stepped off a moment ago, mostly because it's the closest remotely obvious target in all this blank expanse of crystal, and takes a deep breath.]

Three... two... one...!

[A blast of light erupts from her being, crunching into the stalagmite's side. She follows with another, then another, the green limbic rings of her eyes blazing white. What the fuck is this pld rotation, honestly, she hasn't even applied her dot - and yet, with each Holy Spirit blast that chips away at the stone, the ground under their feet rumbles again in apparent surprise. Something is taking notice, for sure.]

[bythefurry]

[Joss, having a paladin amidst his adventurer friends, at least has a vague familiarity with their arts... if not this particular opener. On the count of one, he leaps high into the deadened air and strikes at the spot Naren started weakening with all of his might, immediately springing back to his initial position with a kick. The accompanying rumble seems to suggest they struck something, and so he rushes into close range, finally doing his actual rotation...

Until the shaking suddenly stops, its absence somehow incredibly more ominous than what was happening just seconds ago.

Joss carefully steps back. When the dust from the destroyed chunk of stalagmite clears, a small white snout seems to be peeking from the hole in the rock.]

[sheltronymous]

[As Joss steps back, Naren advances shield-first, her expression grim. Such is the duty of a tank, even one with tankxiety. A little caution is warranted anyway, she thinks; she has seen more than enough of these smiling white muzzles in the past bell or so alone to recognise what they belong to, and at this point she's willing to believe them capable of anything.

Still - why inside the giant crystalline dog sculpture? Her mind flits back through vivid memories of Bahamut Prime, of Alexander, of the late wandering heart of Zodiark... Yet the images are inextricable from the overwhelming presence she remembers from each primal, and from this smaller creature she feels nothing. Pointedly nothing. Not the living and breathing aether of a regular animal, not the cloying overaspected flatness of one excessively tempered or light-corrupted. Just nothing.

A scraping noise sounds from inside the damaged stalagmite, and now two beady black eyes are peeking out of the hole. Naren inclines her head to meet them, furrowing her brow.]

What is it that you want?

[It's something that a "normal" primal would most likely share without prompting. She has no reason to believe asking will help. Up until now, she has no reason to believe this thing even understands words. The dog simply looks up at her, its pink tongue happily lolling out; another scraping noise from within the rock suggests a wagging tail just out of sight.

Then, without warning, it lets out a resounding

BARK.

The entire stalagmite shudders and crumbles into scattered crystal sand - some plinking off the wing-like aethershield Naren immediately summons on trained instinct. From the wreckage, before she can straighten up and regain her bearings, a small, white dog levitates high into the stagnant air.]