It was just another ordinary day, really. V-Zoisite-One was spending the day doing manual labor, as it often did to kill time: bringing fresh produce from the garden to Draco, magickally preserved as long as it had the energy and focus to do so. Today, it held a sizeable pumpkin carefully in its tail mandibles; the inside had been scooped out and water from the river in Pegasus filled to the brim.
Attempts to grow plants in Draco had not quite taken hold. It wasn't exactly practical on a scale enough to keep up with the great beasts that made up its family. A flower or two could be preserved perfectly in a little gourd filled with dirt, though, and that made the Zoisite's little slice of Draco a little more homely.
V-Zoisite-One passed its designated sleeping spot, however, instead taking the water to the center of Draco. It was careful not to bring the pumpkin too close to the Spire-- it did not trust the chaotic, corrupting magic of the Spire to not infect the water-- but it made enough sense to bring it close enough to the heart of the room that anyone who was thirsty could have a drink.
Placing the gourd down and inspecting it for holes, V-Zoisite-One found that it was in fairly good condition. It wanted to bring more here, but before that, it wanted to try to make a more permanent source of water.
There was a way, it believed. A magic adjacent to Preservation, to Baubling. The ability to enchant-- if it could enchant the pumpkin further, it would be able to guarantee that the water didn't become dirty over time. Then, it would only need to bring another pumpkin that could pull water from the air, and then...
Well, it was getting ahead of itself. It wanted to start with making sure that the water that entered this container would remain fresh. So if it could make the magic work... Taking a deep breath, Zoisite touched her jaws gingerly to the pumpkin. She thought she could hear the plant gently murmur back to her, as though encouraging her.
It felt like a good start. "Please," she whispered, "for my family." She felt her energy drain from her stone, a tingling from her toes to her quills, and she exhaled.
Step one, complete. It would hold, wouldn't it? She just had to give it another spell...
So focused was Zoey in her little project that she was frankly oblivious to anyone else that might have come by.
@Vargas
Zoey was about to cast the next spell, the spell that would enchant the gourd, when a familiar voice called out to her. Grandfather. Vargas. Master Vargas. Her head jerked up from its attentive position as the magic sparked out of her and into the pumpkin. The river water within began to turn crystal clear as she craned her neck back, twisting and raising a leg to get a good look back at Vargas with her golden, bottom-of-the-head eyes.
"Master Vargas!" She clicked, her voice rumbling and yet all together warm. It was hard not to have affection for the man who looked after her like family, even if those were not the words he would use. The caves were not for family; the nest was for the creation of monsters, a factory and not a home. They made it a home regardless, together, in their own way.
She scampered away from her little project, forgetting it for a brief moment-- and in the process, not realizing that she had succeeded-- her attention focusing wholly on the Master who guarded and guided her life. "What do you need?" She asked urgently, expecting that there was something important that needed to be discussed.
Zoey did not know, however, that the subject of import would be herself.
She stopped a respectable distance from Vargas, rearing back on to her back couple pairs of legs so that she could crane herself up to meet his gaze more appropriately. Her quills bristled with anticipation while the rest of her stiff carapace gave little else away.
@Vargas
Zoey blinked once, and then looked back to the gourd. Belatedly, she wondered if the magic had taken hold... She waved with her mandibles to usher Vargas to follow, and dropped back down on to all sixes to skitter back over to her large gourd. It was large enough, really, to be an extra-large cup for some of the larger monsters of the Forge. And for the smaller ones-- for Zoey, and smaller-- it was a good 'water jug'.
"I was bringing a fresh source of water to the Forge. I'll be bringing more to generate water, but this one is for making the water drinkable." She sniffed at the water, which seemed to be much more crystal clear now than the pumpkin-guts-river-water she had started with.
"It worked!" Her mandibles clacked, rejoicing. "I enchanted it, " she told Vargas, turning her head to peer sideways at the Master. "So water put inside of it will become purified, and safe to drink." There was a burst of pride at this-- she had expected it might take a few attempts to actually make the magic stick. But as it turned out, she had gotten it on the very first try.
Of course, that was Master Vargas only humoring her. She quieted down the blooming excitement at her success, and steeled herself for the important question that was on Vargas's mind.
"... What did you want to ask me?"
@Vargas
To say it had slipped her mind would be, well, a stretch of the truth. In reality, Zoey thought about it near daily: her longing for a name, for recognition, to become something more in the eyes of her family. To make them proud.
But it would also be true that she hadn't realized that she should make the forward effort to announce her deeds and make claims to her rightfully earned titles. She had been toiling away, expecting that they would simply come to her. Just like that, the flash of pride that warmed her stomach now burned like acid, and she looked away. She lowered her head, so that her gaze could only scour the dirt and stone under foot. Her talons scraped at the ground.
"Right, of course," she said, and felt awkwardly like she should be beaming at the attention, at the praise offered to her. Not one reward, but two!
Unfortunately, it felt as though she had mistepped. As though she had made a mistake. And now, Vargas, towering over her, was gently pointing it out in a way that did not want to hurt her but somehow still stung. There was, of course, no good way to communicate this-- at least, not in a way that she had been taught.
It had been at least thirty cycles since they had spoken about her name. Back when he had told her how to earn it-- by working the garden, the deathmatch (she would not go), capturing the drones of order (the less said the better), and so on. She had expected, when he was satisfied, he would tell her. Or that the others would recommend her, perhaps... But, none of this was here nor there.
... Did Vargas remember her name? It had been so long. She wasn't even sure if she had told him-- but it felt like an open secret, a thing that so many strangers knew and none of her family said aloud.
"... I want," she began, haltingly, her mandibles clicking awkwardly on the words. These were things she had already given herself in private, skulking about when no one would notice. "To be free to travel," -- How many times had she snuck out without proper say-so? Only half the time she was on business, and even then-- "and... my name, I think. If that's alright." Even now she did not quite feel like she deserved either, after cycle after cycle of doing the same thing, always working so quiet and diligent for nothing but self-satisfaction of knowing it helped her people.
She didn't feel like she had earned anything at all. Her gaze remained downcast, her posture stiff and unmoving, and even her quills were silent in this pregnant pause and the breath she held waiting for Vargas to grant her this small victory.
@Vargas
He remembered. He remembered. Her head jerked up, eyes flicking up to find the green gaze of her forefather, pupiless reflections of her own empty yellow eyes.
"You remembered," she said, the thought echoing, he remembered! Mandibles hung slack for a moment, jaws parted with reverent awe.
But then came a more complicated question, and her pincers clacked shut as she considered. "It's... Feminine," she said, "but I am still..." What was a good way of putting it? "A monster. A.. neither, a thing. It is okay to think of me as such." ... Zoey continued to click her mandibles even after her sentence had finished, contemplating. It was not a bad thing to be an it or a they-- the Overseer, Orthoclase, cast a shadow that she continued to stand in.
"Master Tenzin?" She echoed, noting the name and the place. Monoceros and Pisces-- two places she had not ventured to, for they had been fairly out of the way... But now she was curious, her heart thrumming blood through her carapace. "I have not, but I will." After all, a recommendation from Vargas was high praise indeed.
"Thank you," Zoey added, dipping her head again, though this time only briefly before craning her head back up to peer at her Master eye-to-eye again. There was something else, some other thoughts that lingered like a miasma in her mind, but to form the emotions and feelings into words was to capture water with her talons. They slipped right through.
Still, despite everything, Zoey felt as though Vargas understood. That he could know her heart, somehow, even if she couldn't communicate it. Maybe it was within the capacity of a Master, for all that he considered himself to be an unsocial creature. Or maybe that was just part of what being family was...
@Vargas