It was of Maximus's humble opinion that if you didn't do anything stupid, then you wouldn't get hurt. As they approached the biggest ball of chaos and stupid energy they'd ever encountered, they wondered if it was actually her fault.
Was Draconua the one with the risk-reward factor of a teenager trying to impress a crush, or was it the chaotic energies that ran rampant throughout her body, addling her mind and causing even her own private thoughts to be saturated with the constant urge to destroy and maim and everything else that came with the 'gift'? That was a question for a stronger and possibly inebriated Maximus, and for when Vargas was present and most likely holding the Valkhound in a headlock.
So never, would be the simpler description.
Maximus approached the Black Spire and stopped right outside of its aura, not wanting to face the pull and tug that seemed to have centralized itself right above their navel. The tug that stirred up the voices and whispers that plagued their dreams, the visions that occasionally overlapped reality the closer they became to the massive Spire, making it difficult to tell what was and wasn't real. It was an existence they craved to end, but they didn't know how to.
The second reason why they were here. Who was more knowledgeable about the inner workings of chaos magic than the expert herself? If they didn't get their head torn off, maybe they'd learn something.
Wisely, they'd left Nibbles in Pegasus. No need to bring him when he'd most likely end up looking like fresh chum to waters full of circling sharks. Not that they didn't. Hell after the meeting they didn't know if Draconua had a scrap of respect for them or still wished to rip their spine out and use it as a toothpick. Even if she did have respect, what good did that do when not even a Master himself could garner it? When she could easily throw such a thing away in favor of tearing up the earth and setting fire to all things brighter than a dull grey or black. Such a simple thing as respect was about as useful as a cloth fence to a raging bull.
The more they thought the more the tendrils started to grip and squeeze, wrapping around their mind and filling it with images of death, of their own gruesome mutilation by the hands of Draconua, the Sleepless Chaos.
As if dazed they shook their head, yanking their mind from the clutches of the corruption within them, setting it firmly back into sanity with a stubborn growl. For good measure they stood a step back from the Spire, relishing in the protests and hisses that rose up in return.
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
In response... there was no steaming, hissing monstrosity; no pistol shots of black lightning; no earth churning underfoot. Eerie silence, really—but, the monster just simply was not in her home office at that moment. Whatever business she was attending to was certainly not to be known. Draconua was not one to leave notes on her door, nor was she to give even a passing word about her whereabouts. It was simply inevitable that she would return to the Black Spire and slither into her den beneath it, much like clockwork, and continue to stew in a miasma of pure Chaos.
Inevitable, and convenient.
The Sleepless Chaos came stalking into Draco at large no more than a minute after Maximus had tried their summons. Stalking, and unconsciously favoring a foreleg slicked-over in Oily blood. The marks of being gored twined their way up from that leg, dancing along her chest and collarbone—though they were far less obvious with the sheer amounts of blood and viscera clinging to her leathery hide. Stringy red was caught between her teeth, and she idly licked a clump of shaggy fur from her chops before spitting it in the vague direction of the floor.
She arrowed for the den with a slow, plodding gait, pausing only to lift a heavy head toward Maximus. Beady black eyes focused in and after a moment's consideration, a wheezing exhale shuddered out of her.
Draconua bared her teeth in a grin, bloody and horrible.
Vestigial wings rising weakly from her sides and foreleg quivering where she stood—not adjusting so that it bore less weight, as if she didn't even notice the state it was in—she spat irritably.
@Maximus
Unfortunately for Maximus, with the proximity of the Spire and the fact that Maximus had few fucks to give anymore, they resorted to snark.
They were so sick of being afraid, of being treated like shit all the time. They'd already gotten someone killed so what was the point in fear and weakness? They were past that, now.
They eyed the glistening wound and the scraps of what was previously a meadow deer hanging off her massive frame, glad that her prey seemed to be big things that she could see through the pinholes of her helmet-like skull plating and not tiny little Wind Hoppers. As long as Nibbles gave her a wide berth, he'd be fine.
Not that Draconua disappearing into her chrysalis wasn't a blessing for everyone in the Chaos Forge. The less time she spent in the waking world ruining many people's day the better.
But now they were being downright hateful and that was certainly not what Maximus was all about. They took another step away from the Spire and stubbornly shooed all those stupid demons away, frightening them back into their holes with threats of sunshine and rainbows and the fond memories they had of them and Khavur. Including various ones with butterflies and snuggles involved.
That shut them up nicely.
Maximus jabbed and sneered, though, and that was where it all fell to pieces. Draconua did not bother to muffle the snarl working its way out of her maw. Her words came like gunfire, booming and clipped like the flash of a muzzle.
Her tail lashed once, twice. All teeth stood on full display as she swelled upward, Oily blood sputtering all over the floor. The substance coagulated, darted across the floor for the other; it surged into an iridescent black tentacle, thick and muscled, with a disgustingly wet pop! On her own arm.
The appendage writhed as she brought her jaws to it, and one could imagine it shrieking and wailing as it was shorn from already-tender flesh and hide. With a flick of her jaws, the tentacle landed near Maximus's feet.
It sizzled and steamed as it decomposed, and she snarled:
@Maximus
Maximus sighed. They were too tired for this, honestly.
Maximum effort, after all.
They wanted to wretch and heave at the display in front of them, at the tentacle that squelched in her jaws and the smelly blood that drooled from Draconua's wound like a salivating beast. She tore it out and they gagged just a little, priding themselves on not losing their lunch, at least, as it landed before them.
Maximus didn't want to touch Draconua. They didn't want to get close but they certainly didn't want to lay a finger on a hide that had to be brimming with destructive energy and whatever parasites that lingered there thriving in the wealth of chaotic energy and mutilated flesh.
They cast their magic silently over her, ensuring that her wound wouldn't get infected and that any nasties on her disappeared. For the moment, she was relatively clean. Any bad breath she had might not disappear, which was a shame, though.
Draconua, despite the low-simmering rage and frustration in her gut, had to laugh at such a sentiment. One step taken by Maximus was all it took for the valkhound to march much further than one (and to Hell with honor and fair play. Weaknesses were all they were.) Give the monster an inch, and she'll take a damn mile if given enough slack.
The Sleepless Chaos, for all her horribleness, was not too often the instigator—though she certainly spun it that way at times. Even now, wheezing and giggling at Maximus. Just talk. As if that wasn't overplayed and soft. Talk and be healed.
With an abrupt snarl, the valkhound snapped.
She hoped for the latter.
@Maximus
Maximus breathed out through their nose to mask their annoyed sigh. At least they were doing better than their little teaching session a few cycles before. An improvement, at least.
They leapt back a few feet at the stones that dropped, eyeing them warily before as tall as they could to make sure they could still be seen by Draconua, though careful to stay away from the wall she'd created between them.
They knew she'd laugh at them or worse. They who were so pathetic and weak now carrying the Creator's magic within them, slowly infecting them like some kind of disease. Even worse was when the little whispers tried to carry across their bond with Khavur, threatening to tell them horrible things, to push them away.
They couldn't stand for it.
What could Maximus offer, hm? They had no power, no influence, nothing. They had... no, they had something.
Because wasn't that just hilarious. His influence being made known at last, and the monster was afraid of it! Willing to grasp at whatever footholds to rid themselves of it, His urgings and His sound counsel. Desperate to look anywhere but the storm's eye of the Creator, and yet they came crawling to her for advice on how to stop that beautiful symphony, how to bring back that scent of green grass and the fluttering of butterfly wings.
Oh, there was delight in the Oily tears dripping down her red-masked face, washing away blood and murder. Delight, indeed, until—
A horrible crunch! sounded as her jaws snapped together, maw neatly zipping back together with tattered flesh at the corners of blackened lips. The Oil spill that had once been a wretched limb surged back into shape, coagulating into a mass that surged for Maximus's legs at first, and then to wrap around the lanky beast's chest and lift them off of the ground. Draconua stalked forward, stepping easily over the fissure.
Her rotten breath fanned hot through the air as she tittered hollowly.
Though, she grew quieter, grinning again with all her teeth.
A beat, a pregnant pause.
Draconua tilted her head, as if she was refocusing, coming back down to reality.
If the tentacle had found a hold, it would squeeze hard enough to compress ribs and force air out, before slackening into its original firm grasp.
@Maximus
Maximus swallowed and stared Draconua down, ears pinning. Their quills stood on end and they flexed wicked claws, nervous. They took a step back as she lurched forward, her movements less than graceful but fluid, every step bursting with potential to rain down hellfire, to cause misery.
They hissed as the tentacle surged to life, immediately trying to escape its grasp. They had claws and teeth and a lot of people (themselves included) forgot that they too, were Valkhound. With a slash of knife-like fingers they left gouges in the tentacle's flesh, black ooze flecking across their face as they reeled back in disgust.
Once moment they'd thought they'd fended it off. The next found them suspended in the air, quills bent and broken, some sticking out of the tentacle and some pinned beneath as it wrapped around them, squelching and twisting, muscle writhing under a film of ooze. They wanted to bite it, to get it off, to use the strength they had to tear it apart and throw it as far away as they could.
Pinned beneath a set of talons they couldn't see, Maximus knew that as long as they were surrounded by Draco, the Black Spire, and those who wielded the Creator's magic, they would never be free from it. It would take a miracle to be free of the Chaos Forge, but as long as they lived within these caves, even that would be a half-truth.
The valkhound closed the distance, leg dragging behind her in an unconscious limp, and spit into the other's face as she spoke.
Take a good long look, she urged, louder than everything else in her rotten black skull, we'll see if it is your LAST.
@Maximus