ORIGIN - Problem Children

Ah, the womb. the center (it's actually the back wall) of all of Draco's creation efforts, the evidence clear in the holes lining the walls themselves, intended for creating the finest, most efficient designs to serve a purpose greater than themselves, to fuel the fires of war and destruction and deceit.

It was truly the best part of Draco, depending on who you'd ask. and today, 2 new monstrous creations would be birthed from the efforts of it's master.

It's likely it should say something about the master that the first one to pop out was effectively a cat. (with some minor alterations, of course)

The creature wasted no time scrambling against the oily walls of its chrysalis, splashing echoing faintly outside of it as it did backflips trying to push itself out. when its claws finally reached fault in its crystal casing, it rammed viscously outward, falling front and center onto the ground below with a wet and slightly slimy shatter as shards scattered across the fleshy floor.

we're going to assume, for now, that the adrenaline rush of realizing you're alive and exist is keeping this itty bitty dude from simply collapsing in pain after a fall from that high up.

they'll feel it in the morning.

Toxic eyes blinked open wildly, back arched upward and claws gripping the ground like an irate feral cat.

well, now it was alone, and surely that wasn't supposed to happen, so it roared.

In a moment of defiance towards god, and also its several bruised limbs, it jumped at, and then scrambled up the wall to the chrysalis of it's sibling, wings flapping wildly, scratching half heartedly at the stone, yowling in monstrous fashion for the thing inside to get it's ass out of there and join it here. (though, to be noted, it wasn't actually trying to BREAK the chrysalis, it's like tapping on aquarium glass)

someone should probably come quick so it didn't run the risk, however... and also maybe make sure he didn't break himself either.

@Vargas @V-Chaos-Seven

Visions. Visions. It is seeing things.

A mind beneath childish, it cannot truly understand these things—not yet, not yet—but they will certainly be its founding principles, when it's old enough to go back and turn these things back over in its mind.

It sleeps within its gemstone prison, and it dreams, and it sees. Its unconscious mind is filled with the sound of clashing beings; the phantom taste of acrid smoke fills its mouth, as it turns around and around in its chrysalis and oil begins, slowly, to drip-drip-drip off of it, mixing with its birthing fluid. Whispers trail promises on and along its spine, over its scales, vibrating its columella with delightful, dripping things.

It does not understand this dream, true, but it is still a good dream. It is a pleasant dream, this heralded chaos, and were it truly conscious perhaps its expression would have curved into something of a… smile.

And then the bliss shatters in an instant, against a jackhammer of squabbling, screeching, tapping. The vibrations of an infernal yowling reach it, carried by fluid, and it startles awake, twisting round and round in its chrysalis.

Its first emotion: upset, at being torn away from those beautiful, beautiful dreams.

Its second: wordless, fiery betrayal.

Perhaps if its thoughts were comprehensible in a way that could be put into words, it would have thought this:

YOU!

Instinct strikes it: tense, lunge, wrap.

Luckily for the sibling which has found its irritations, it's only a child; luckily, its strike is weak, and it only crashes against the gemstone with a dull thunk, and earns little more than a spiderweb crack on the oilstone for its troubles.

It thrashes within the chrysalis, hissing madly through bubbles of fluid within.

@Vargas @V-Chaos-Eight

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He wasn't all that far off. Not spectacularly close, either, but he knew it was about time for his newest creations to hatch--and he was more than eager to see them.

The sound of distant tapping had him lift his head and listen. Cave rats? he wondered, but then there was a deeper, softer thunk.

Vargas pushed up, puzzled, and made his way for the chrysalises. He arrived only late, late enough to see the larger, distant stone already threaded through with spiderweb cracks, to find the smaller hatchling smacking at it. Is it trying to help Seven hatch..? he wondered--and then, horrified, wondered if somehow the new scout had damaged the chryalis of Dhracia's creation before it was finished developing.

He strode forward, worry rising through him like acid bubbles because if that were the case, Dhracia would show no mercy. "V-Chaos-Eight!" he demanded, rushing for the little creature. It wouldn't know its own name yet, of course, but-... He studied it as he drew closer. "Let me get a look at you."

@V-Chaos-Eight

the hatchling laughed at the loud thunk from inside the chrysalis in mockery, what a sight! claws gripped the stone as if it were trying to pry it off like a lid, but was stopped with the approaching rumbling footsteps.

eight immediately turned to the source, back arching as vargas approached. a small, challenging hiss from its beak, before its feathers smoothed, back lowering, before its lower half wiggled and it lunged for vargas's head.

eight would fly off the wall, kicking surely another crack into the surface of it's siblings chrysalis, landing quite un-gracefully onto the snout of their life-giver, a loud, rumbling purr as they headbutted their face into vargas's nose

now, this was all assuming vargas didn't just straight up grab the thing out of mid-air or simply move maybe an inch away. eight was small, and would probably not make the jump otherwise.

eight, nonetheless, ate up the attention. all the attention that was theirs and not their siblings was good.

if vargas could read minds, and eight could form coherent thought, vargas might hear a triumphant "SUCK IT"

@V-Chaos-Seven @vargas

Luckily, the earlier hit against the oilstone—and Eight's interference—has weakened the stone enough that Seven can begin just pushing at it; shoving at it with the tip of its nose, instinct urging it to make the oilstone give.

(The ease of it is a good thing. It would be quite embarrassing for both it and the author if it failed another physical roll to get out of its chrysalis.)

Hairline cracks become spiderwebs; spiderwebs give in under pressure and crumble, fluid beginning to leak. Any moment now, any moment…

…there. The stone gives way not with any dramatic crack or smash, but with the slow inevitability of a failing dam. And as its oily blackness crumbles away, behold! The face of a nightmare; two slit blinking eyes, gleaming, set in that darkly patterned face, soft scales pushing away the rest of its chrysalis.

The first flick of a tongue. Two prongs emerging, wiggling, retracting.

The world smells so much. It is overwhelming, at first, to the serpent which was smelling nothing at all; it pauses, wavers. Its head sways side to side briefly as it gives another flick, trying to process the sheer vastness of its new world. (And this is just Draco.)

It can be excused, then, that the newborn snake takes a few moments to lock onto its sibling. A few moments more, to recognize the thing that had so rudely interrupted it from sleep.

(Honestly, if Eight had fled before it hatched, it probably wouldn't have been able to identify it by sight or smell, opaque as its oilstone chrysalis was. As it stands, this is basically a 50-50 chance. Let's call it sibling instinct that makes Seven lock on so easily to the catlike creature.)

That one. That one is the one which woke it up.

How dare.

It surges forward—legs immediately scrabbling for purchase on Vargas' bulk, snake's mouth wide as it bolts upward, trying its very very best to grab the fuck out of its annoying brat of a sibling.

@Vargas @V-Chaos-Eight

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The little owlcat seemed healthy--that was good. Healthy, strong, already mischievous; and it was launching for his face. Gripping his snout, and for an instant he thought it was some treasonous attack, an instinct to kill something a hundred times its size-...

Then it headbutted him, and purred, and Vargas remembered: cats.

Well, that was fucking adorable.

With a snort-grunt of amusement, he reached up to try and pry Chaos-Eight away. Not entirely away, but down, into the crook of one arm. Regardless of whether he managed to wrangle the wriggling cat-bird or not, he spoke. "Yes, it is good to meet you too. I am Master Vargas. You are V-Chaos-Eight, and you are to be my personal messenger. And that..." He fell silent, studying the chrysalis that now spiderweb-cracked before them, rapt.

This one was to be Lord Dhracia's next gift, and he observed with bated breath its violent emergence. No: its eruption, its attack launched at Vargas--or at Chaos-Eight?--immediately.

He scurried backward, even, to ensure it wouldn't snag the far smaller child. "ENOUGH," he boomed, more out of alarm than aggression, though his voice carried with authority. "I am Master Vargas! Your Master Vargas! You are KRITHIS! The Void Serpent, and the Devourer! But you both belong to the Chaos Forge. Do not," he added, struggling to ensure they were kept apart, "kill one another!"

@V-Chaos-Eight

if eight were going to commit a treasonous attack against anybody today, it would not be vargas.

the little owlcat was successfully wrangled into the master's arm, trilling happily. it accepted its new name with grace. it seemed perfectly able to understand what vargas was saying, despite having little to no words of its own as of now.

the child looked down at their sibling, 'krithis' as they were dubbed, failing to grab onto vargas and even being pushed away, and let out a mean, mocking laugh once again, loud and squeaky, curling closer into vargas' embrace almost proudly. as if to say without words "haha you're there and im up here, eat shit pissbaby"

however, the master said not to kill eachother, and even gave krithis a different name? a longer one, called them things like devourer, void serpent. why didn't they get a cool name like that? why were they the favorite when eight was already out and they so pathetically cant even get a grip on vargas's hide?

eight was special too. eight was... the.. uhm... eight was the cat of unending darkness and secrecy!!!!!! eat that, shitsnake.

eight attempted to spit something out, tell its sibling off, but all that seemed to come out was a litany of nonsensical noises that almost sounded like words but not quite. but they sounded very, very insulting with how much venom this baby tried to bring forth into said noises nonetheless.

eight looked up to vargas almost satisfactory, as if to say "see? i can be big and commanding too, pay more attention to me!" , smiling a wide, Cheshire grin.

@V-Chaos-Seven

There is one thing the serpent didn't realize in its haste to go after its sibling, the one who so rudely disturbed its sleep and they will pay—

The large creature Eight has taken to perching atop is, in fact, more than a creature. It is big, and surprisingly fast for its size, but more than that: it can talk.

And it is so very loud.

The chaos-serpent shrinks back in displeasure as Vargas' voice fills the cave, overwhelming the quiet-by-comparison noises of a scuffle; his voice is loud, louder than anything it's ever heard, and the booming authority of it rattles its skull. Spindly spider-limbs scrape at the stone as it coils, around and around, head perched upon itself.

Clearly, the big, mountain-sharp creature staring it down with eyes that shine in the dark is protective of the little annoyance which disturbed it, although it doesn't understand why. What worth is there to this little creature? It can jump, it can fly, it can wake it from its sweet dreams? Seven is bigger. Seven is better.

Hmph. Fine. It'll listen to the Master, because the Master is loud and big and it's certain that he could throw it across the cave if he wanted to.

But it won't like it.

It wants to go back to sleep.

@Vargas @V-Chaos-Eight (visibility)

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas winced at the stream of nonsensical babble that came from the smaller one. It was... good that it was almost verbal, already, but it was noisy, and for a moment two thumbs gently pressed in to try and just... shut its mouth. Just for a second.

Then he placed it on his shoulder, to perch there or what have you, and settled in to speak. "Good," he rumbled, more approvingly, now that both were... not trying to murder one another, at least. Now: how do I begin?

He considered. Ahh! Vargas swept one hand in, to point at himself. "Vargas. Master Vargas."

He then gestured to Chaos-Seven. "Krithis."

And to Chaos-Eight. "V-Chaos-Eight. Eight."

Again: "Vargas. Krithis. Eight. -Do you understand? These are your names." Perhaps... he could go from there.

And then dump the kids off on Desert Rose, because this? This was not something he was good at.

@V-Chaos-Eight