ORIGIN - the high school locker room

The Warden flexed its shoulders as it settled itself next to the Aperture, The Sentinel standing like a statue not far away. It didn't understand how he could just...stand there. All the time. It was only a few days old and already starting to feel restless and bored. It liked when The Sentinel took it aside for fighting practice and it liked when Vargas walked by, so it could show off how strong it was getting already, but both were not constants and all the time in between was spent...standing. Just sitting there, looking off into the tunnel, the pulsing Aperture around them making it dizzy if it looked too long. The first day, this spot had been a wonder, now it was a headache. It didn't resent its job, far from it, but every worker suffered a lag in stimulation at one point or another. It was just reaching that point in record time.

It tried not to sigh as it crossed its arms and stood straight up, lookin into the tunnel. It did want to impress The Sentinel and it did want to learn, but children are volatile and curious and The Warden, ever ignorant and arrogant, thought that The Sentinel could be doing more for it, that it was wasting time having it sit around all day. Weren't there better uses for it's strength, especially when there was a relative peace?

It considered mischief for a moment, using a spell to create a bit of sneaky chaos, if only to break up the monotony of every minute going by. But, unlike the few others in the Forge it had met, it simply respected - and, in a way, feared - the Sentinel far too much to try anything under its watch.

So, for now, it tried to let its mind go blank without falling asleep on its feet as it stood in its position at the entrance to Draco.

@Menkheperre

Things had been going splendidly since (something resembling) peace had fallen back upon the Palace following the incident. The resident Hand hadn't returned to the library's extensively cataloged and reorganized halls since then (not while Menkheperre was around, at least) and he was fast at work transcribing books into plain-speak for his hodgepodge of companions to study from. Ever since finishing up his notes for a later discussion on philosophy—beginning with the very meaning of life, of course!—he'd found himself stuck on a new sort-of fixation: farming.

The farming of grains, specifically, but—others were invited to the party, as well! It was simply that they were so foundational to societies as a whole, and it intrigued him to think on whether or not this cave could be considered that; or, really, if that was significant or important at all. Reading and writing was integral to consideration for the grand prize of such a title, but… well, that wasn't a common skill many of the cave's denizens held. He seemed to be an outlier in that regard.

It didn't bother him too much, though; as much of a hermit as he was, he still found quite a bit of joy in sharing his knowledge and revisiting Draco where Astraea had somewhat petered off with his presence.

Menkheperre plodding through the Aperture, shouldering a nicely proportionate cloth book bag stuffed to the absolute brim with tomes, was not much of an unusual sight at all. But, he surmised as he glanced down and over at the new warden standing just inside, he might be a bit of a new sight for sore eyes that stared off into middle distance.

Lips pulling into a shy, polite smile, he dipped his head in greeting, "Hello, hello, I don't believe we've met?" One of his frontmost forearms lifted up without so much as a shift in his weight, verdigris claws splaying across his glittering-scaled chest. "We've not met, no… I am Menkheperre," Oh, but this is one of the Forge, right? Looks to be so... They appreciate their titles, he thought before tacking on, "Scribe of the Light Below. You're unfamiliar to me."

Best to make a good impression, right? Then he can clamber his way up the wall over yonder and settle into a reading nook.

@The Warden