Drums in the Deep

Ouranos’s tail club clunked heavily against a desk, the resulting vibrations sending a pile of junk toppling down and making an even louder sound when it all crashed against the ground. He grumbled under his breath, then struck something else. The first time was an accident caused by the unwieldy-ness of his developing club, but the second strike was purposeful and caused a dent in the side of the metal structure. It also made his tail ache, which soured his attitude even more. The young shunosaurus was in a poor mood as he roamed the half-lit underground structure that had been his home since the time of his unusual hatching.

More shunos had been waking, albeit slowly, as the pair of them grew older, so it was becoming less lonely in the green spaces than when it was just him and Ephialtes - but that was not always necessarily a good thing. His brother was developing something of a problematic attitude. While Ouranos was glad for the new company and to see some friendly faces (not necessarily new, they had come across the preservation chambers some time ago, and that had been a harrowing sight to see), Ephialtes did not seem to be quite so enthusiastic, and even seemed somewhat hostile towards some of them.

It felt like every shuno they met, Ephialtes had some problem with, and sometimes he pushed his luck. Ouranos was trying to keep him out of trouble, and it only ended up with them butting heads. It was why Ouranos was out here to begin with, away from the main body of the growing number of shunos inside the increasingly cramped facility. He needed space to breathe and cool down, and time to think about how he could get through to his brother that peace and cooperation were the way forwards.

Ouranos let out an exasperated sound as he whacked his tail club against the mangled desk side once more, again sending another crash echoing through the hallways of Genesis. He sighed, both his club and tail aching now, and rested his chin on top of the desk. He didn’t know what to do, only that… he would probably keep doing the same thing. He would go back to his brother who he loved and cherished, who he wondered if he also loved him in return, and try to keep him out of trouble. Undoubtedly, he would yet fail again, but he would keep trying.

Once he had calmed down enough, Ouranos dragged his head off the desk’s surface and turned to move back towards the body of the growing herd. He did wonder, sometimes, if they would ever be freed of this place. He knew there had to be a way out, because he had never seen the blind cryo again - not alive, nor had he ever found her corpse, though he had seen plenty of other bodies at this point. He had just… never found a way out, either, and he had searched high and low for anything that wasn’t concrete or steel. Each doorway only lead to more of the same: dead ends.

Fortunately, so far there had been plentiful food for all those that had awoken in Genesis, as long as everyone remembered to share what was available and to leave some to grow and replenish what was taken. This was another thing that his brother struggled with.

Some of the shunos that had awoken to join them were a little rough around the edges, and as more woke and joined the herd tempers started to flare up more easily due to the close quarters and increasingly cramped confines, but it wasn’t often the herd members that were the problem. It was the hungry carnivores that were waking with the shunos. The anteos, squat and brutish creatures with sharp teeth, long canines, claws, and short, thick necks had separated from the shunos not long after they started to wake. Their separation had been a bloody clash; the anteos were savage fighters. They struggled to fight against a whole herd of shunos, though.

… Calling them brutish was unfair, Ouranos supposed, feeling bad even thinking as much even though he was the only one in his thoughts. They weren’t all bad, just hungry, and they did not have a readily available supply of growing green food to stave off the worst of the hunger pains. They needed to hunt to survive. Some of them were even almost pleasant to speak to - when they were well fed, and from a distance.

Others, like the one that now stood in his path, were just unreasonable and violent no matter how recently they had eaten. Ouranos stopped dead in his tracks, realising very quickly how far he was from anyone that would be able to help him and that he should not have been making so much noise. He had heard of the anteo that was sizing him up like a meal. Zuma. A large and fierce, proud creature with high aspirations and the will to achieve them through whatever grisly means necessary. Some anteos had been convinced to go after smaller prey, like the occasional rats that scampered through the building. Zuma had never been convinced of such and had no problem hunting shunos, especially young ones who were very much alone.

Ouranos called out for help as Zuma charged, the anteo’s sharp claws scrabbling briefly on the smooth tile floor before he got traction and rushed towards him. The young shuno turned his back on Zuma, tail raised and prepared to land a blow against the anteo’s head or neck, but it was a predictable move and Zuma had plenty of experience hunting shunos. He dodged neatly out of the way - and instead snapped his teeth and clamped down on Ouranos’s tail with powerful jaws, making his cry of alarm turn into one of pain and fear instead.

Ouranos turned, standing on his back legs to kick at the anteo with his sharp thumb claws instead, but he was yet too small for his kicks to do much damage at all against the anteo’s thick fur and thicker skull. Zuma let go of Ouranos’s tail only to latch onto one of his forelimbs, yanking Ouranos forwards so that he would lose his balance and fall to the ground. It would be a swift and decisive victory and Zuma would feast.

Or he would have, if a solid grey mass didn’t collide squarely against Zuma’s head. Ouranos found his footing and scrambled back from Zuma’s bloodstained teeth, eyes wide enough with fear that thin slivers of white bordered his golden eyes. Zuma stood on his back feet, his back slightly arched, and bared his teeth with widely parted jaws as he turned and bellowed at the guardian that had come to Ouranos’s aid. Another male shunosaurus, grey as steel with light stripes on his neck that were almost reminiscent of the gold ones that were coming in on Ouranos’s face and shoulders.

London was unfazed by Zuma’s show of aggression and bellowed back, his tail lifting and curving in an elegant, daring arc that said he was ready for whatever Zuma was going to try. It was easy to unbalance a juvenile shuno that had very little fighting experience, but a strong, established adult bull? That would be more of a challenge.

One that Zuma was apparently keen on taking up. He had other anteos to feed, a pack to lead. He wasn’t going to let them get away, not without putting up a significant fight. London bellowed as Zuma charged him, a sound which echoed throughout the building and vibrated glassware on nearby counters. Ouranos felt the challenge in his bones as he watched, awestruck, as the two clashed. Zuma’s teeth and claws savaged London’s limbs but London did just as much damage, catching the anteo with his thumb claws, kicking at him and smashing his tail club against Zuma’s ribs. It was only when Zuma was wheezing and drooling blood that he started to back off, and he only retreated when the sounds of other shunos coming to investigate the commotion started to get too close for his comfort.

Retreating from a bull and calf was cowardly, but retreating from a herd? That was just survival.

Ouranos watched warily as Zuma disappeared into the facility and moved for the shelter and protection that London provided as soon as it was safe to do so. He limped, his foreleg badly bitten and leaving drops of blood on the floor.

“You’re okay, you’re safe,” London assured Ouranos. He bowed his neck to the considerably smaller shuno, sniffing at the wounds he had sustained. They seemed to be mostly superficial and would likely heal well enough, with enough time and rest.

Ouranos leaned against one of London’s forelimbs, adrenaline already wearing off and leaving him fatigued and feeling sore and ragged. He sat heavily. With others approaching and Zuma having left, it was unlikely that he would be in any real danger now.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Ouranos knew that he was lucky that London liked to keep an ear out for trouble. If London had been able to move a little faster through the hallways, he might have been able to get here sooner and prevent the juvenile’s injuries altogether. As it was… Ouranos was just glad that London hadn’t moved any slower.