Grayell didn't have time to think. He wasn't trained to. Rather, his eyes sent a signal to his brain and all of half a second later, his body reacted. His leg's instantly coiled with energy and he leaped into the air, his right leg slamming out and colliding with the bed. It splintered and then landed, a few feet beside him as he set down, shoulders low and his eyes on fire, ready for anything.
He took a breath, looked at the bed and then straightened up.
He looked to the corner the bed had been in and scratched his head.
Ummmm.... don't care for the furniture Cel? I'm all for flipping tables and all but still....
The air in the cave was once again suffused with an oppressing silence, quiet as the grave. Slowly, the winds picked up, and a low howl began to echo throughout the cavern. Not long after, a wardrobe began to shake, giving away Cel's position once again. She was likely wondering how to throw a wardrobe with her still in it.
Now, the construction of a wardrobe would usually be classified as 'seige defense', mostly because of their style of construction and determined lifespan. Unfortunately, elder beings usually don't have the greatest of respect for furniture.
The door on the wardrobe slowly creaked open as he tapped on it. Revealing a fully-clothed (really, the only clothing she ever wore was the damned cloak) Celephai in a fetal position, clutching a box of multicolored chalk sticks.
"...You tell anyone, I will kill you, and follow you to whatever afterlife you get to and kill you there, too."
Cel was not exactly happy with this situation, but Grayell hadn't exactly done anything to deserve mistreatment or even hostility. She had flung a bed at him (and without warning, as well), and it was just chalk, it wouldn't take much to just show him and have done with the whole affair.
...but then he had to go and call her 'adorable', and she wasn't going to stand for that. So she whipped a tentacle at him.
Grayell took one in the head and ended up in his head. He sat there, sprawled backward and groaned a moment. He rubbed his cheek.
Cel, if you're gonna rough me up, well I'm just going to end up....
Grayell sighed. Roughing up only resulted in one thing last time. And him pinning her to the wall, tentacles and all wasn't an option. Besides, she tore his bloody clothes to shred last time. Ah, the memories.
Nevermind. Yeah.. the compliments thing. How about.... you're a horrifying abomination of indeterminable nature and humans should quake in their boots whilst confounded by your hellish beauty and magnificence, waiting like sheep until the day you throw our world into unending and utterly confusing perpetual chaos?
He gave her a sheepish grin.... and saw if the sweet talk still worked.
Celephai did not seem amused by this, even if it did feel quite satisfying to knock him on his back, praising her in such profane and wonderful ways. Did wonders for the ego. She shuffled out of the wardrobe toward the back of the cave, facing the wall with her head hung, either in shame or defeat.
"...'m still not going to show you."
Her tone was defiant, but she still sounded like a stubborn child who had said a bad word and refused to stop saying it.
Oh, fine. What harm could there be in him having just one? She turned slowly, holding the small box out for him to take his pick of color. Maybe it was stupid for her to be acting this way, considering her background, but all of it be damned she had FOUND the box, neglected and cast aside, and then she found out they could create images and letters...
He gave her the grin and wink that always seemed to work with her - and entirely because she simply inspired it. Cheeky. He took one simple piece and walked to the wall and placed the chalk upon it.
I want to show you something. It likely won't make any sense. But it's the story of my people.
Grayell started drawing, the beginning being a large circle.
This is our world. There is but one like it and it is home to all things of this reality and beyond. It is the center of everything, the mortal world, the veil and beyond to all subtle realities. She is our mother.
Grayell drew some people, standing upon the edge of the circle.
These are my people. We are part of nature and are of her womb, we come from her as do all things. She is the source, the beginning and the end. She is alive, as are all things. As is the world.
He takes the chalk and draws a wavy line around the world.
This is the breath. It is the very thing that makes all things, it is the life force and the true magic, the infinite truth. All things are made from it and contain it, then make it their own.
He draws a tree now, at the bottom of the circle.
This is a tree like any other, like any living thing. It was born of nature, it is part of her and it crafted from the breath. It in turn has grown and has it's own breath. Now, when it dies...
Grayell erases the tree.
It's breath becomes one with the true breath, the true magic, the one truth. This completes the circle that we call life but...
He draws a baby, next to the other people.
When new life is created, it is made from the breath. It is of nature and a part of her through this breath. As it grows, the breath will becomes it's own. And when it dies, it breath will rejoin the stream. In this way all things are one. We are all of the breath. This is the one truth of my people and extends to all things.
He looks at her with a smile.
Including you. Now.... you're turn. Teach me the truth of your people.
There wasn't really any kind of truth as defined by mortals. There were no direct laws or boundaries where she was from, but maybe she had to try.
"I'm not sure where to start, so... I suppose I will try where I spent the majority of my time."
She begins furiously scribbling a terrible, writhing mass of tentacles and mouths, her own tentacles begin picking up pieces of chalk, helping to form the terrible entity. Around it, stars, planets, nebulae, each formed but all were dwarfed by the sheer scale of this thing.
"Azathoth dreams the universe in his endless void, wherein we all dance to keep him dreaming, lest he wake and end all that we know. That was my station before I was... compelled to leave."
She sketched a few tiny dancers along the edges of the thing's tendrils, like tiny flecks of light against an endless void.
"We dance by instructions of Yog-Sothoth, whom is both Gate and Key to the End and Beginning-"
She started moving upward, towards the roof of the cavern, etching a series of orbs and tentacles in profusion. This one differentiated from the others by the color yellow, and having a distinct distortion in how it's shapes looked.
"-intersecting with time and space, what little there is. Then we move to some of the other, less vague but just as insane deities..."
Cel began weaving a great floating pillar of tentacles extending from the sky down to another wall, wherein a few cultists stood, extending their arms to the sky in worship.
"...The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, Shub-Nigguroth. She is the brood mother of most elder things. The Young make great pets, you know, like Shoggoths..."
A shapeless morass followed, with eyes and tendrils abound, plasticine and greenish.
"And the Black Pharaoh, The Crawling Chaos, Nyarlathotep..."
She scribbled a black, humanoid, tendril-winged entity with six reddish eyes aligned vertically on it's face. She was running out of wall, nearing the floor.
"He is the messenger and caretaker of dead worlds... and can be fairly flattering when he likes. These each continue the cycle of chaos, death, and rebirth in an endless cycle of Azathoth's Dream, such as we call it the 'Dream-Cycle'."
Celephai then ran out of her last piece of chalk. She had covered about thirty square feet of cave in a long, incredibly-detailed, twisting image of her pantheon of Outer Gods which seemed to writhe in the changing light of the crystals and water pool. The imagery alone was horrifying enough, but the total effect was nothing less than unsettling.
Grayell looks at his simple depiction, a circle and some stick figures and a few wavy scribbles.
Well ah.... yeah. Hm. You plan on keeping it there? It's quite interesting to say the least but... it also seems very confusing. I mean that's quite the family tree you have their hon.
He wasn't unsettled by the imagery, if anything he hoped it made her feel more at home. But... just whoa. I mean how complex can things be? He took a seat on the floor.
My people too have a dreaming. Though that is the story of our creation and the beginning of all things. It's.... colorful to say the least but wow. Your heritage is rich Celephai, that makes you quite cultured.
Grayell stared at it a while longer. His head would twitch from one odd thing to another, follow the rhyme and reason to her drawings. After some time he smiled... just a little.
I find it fascinating. I can kind of see your chaos in this Cel... but it seems like a flux to me. The ebb and flow of all things without rhyme or reason. Without motive or thought. There is no questioning what simply is and will be.
At least that is what I believe. Everything has it's place and all things will change. Their is no controlling that and no guessing why.
Celephai gave a small motion with her head that was roughly the equivalent of a shrug. Culture wasn't exactly a focus of her birthplace, but in a sense, yes it was a kind of culture. She didn't much care for it aside from the knowledge of it, but it was hers.
"We all have a right to believe what we wish, even if it is a lie. Truth can best be described as a belief, as we only have ourselves as perspectives to understand the world around us. As such, we cannot change anything we cannot understand. Those who understand more about the various aspects of the world will be more likely to change it. Some people can stare directly at the abyss, and yet not be driven insane from it. They are the few to harness it's powers..."
That was... bizarrely metaphysical, even for Cel.
"I suppose I'll leave it up for now, but I could always just wash it off later. It's not paint."
She dragged the mattress of the bed back to where it was, and sat on it, admiring her work on the ceiling. It was a horrible likeness in her eyes, but to be even vaguely similar to the real deal, she'd have quite some trouble coming up with such materials.