It had taken some time to corral the two new Valkhounds for a small meeting. He hadn't been aware of their hatching, at first. Finding and summoning them had been a bit of a chore.
While he tried to remain calm and businesslike, Master Vargas was kind of stressed. He did his best not to show that. After all, he created Valkhounds now and then, and sent them off to war, and never heard from them again. But these-... Making a few at once, when they were clearly sort of somehow bonded like siblings, or friends. And childlike.
He kept it simple. He explained, as best he could and in brief terms, what the Chaos Forge was.
Eyed them.
He had no idea which one had hatched first.
Now to see if either one just decided to attack him, instead.
Timir shifted from one hook-clawed paw to another. He glanced at Tsvetok, then at Vargas.
Vargas was frigging huge, or maybe Timir wouldn't have afforded him quite so much silent attention. Half the creatures he'd met were trying to attack him or trick him so far, and being told he was meant to be in some kind of weird monster military cult and go off to war in whatever the hell a few "cycles" were was... unwelcome.
But it sort of tracked with everything else: he had no idea how anything worked or why he, like, existed. So maybe the explanation made sense?
He didn't know.
When he spoke, his eyes were narrowed slightly, his voice that low guttural sound like crunching gravel. And he was loud, as his friend had taught him to be (accidentally).
@Tsvetok
It was like herding sheep-- but at least once Timir started going, Tsvetok quickly followed. It hadn't really split off very far from Timir at all, in fact. They were-- probably? --friends, or at least as much as Valkhounds created for war could be. Tsvetok certainly did not seem to have much capacity for knowing what makes a good friend.
When Vargas finally had the two in front of him, Tsvetok was... less than paying attention. It seemed to all be going into one ear-hole and out the other. It only perked up when Vargas gave them names, because it dimly remembered Fenmyre saying they weren't born to be numbers.
When Timir piped up, Tsvetok interrupted whatever Vargas was about to say by bellowing as loud as it possibly could.
It elaborated on itself,
Swinging its head back towards Vargas, it said,
@Vargas
If Vargas had believed in a God, just then he'd have said it. "Oh, god." He'd have rubbed his face, and groaned, and maybe sat back and cradled his head in his hands. Hell, he'd have stuck a finger comically in the air and frozen mid-protest to Tsvetok's assurance that war was good. Because, uh. They were probably going to die. But he couldn't exactly tell them that now, could he?
But, professional facades and all of that. So he took a breath, and kept his admittedly already rigid face carefully neutral.
He wouldn't feel guilty about this. He never had before; he wouldn't now. (Both of these things were, just a little bit, lies. But at least he was only really lying to himself.)
Then he waited, to see if they were ready to make a decision just yet--or if they had more questions.
Timir's visage had gone a little dark. He'd opened his mouth to also protest the numbers when Tsvetok took the words from him and spoke them himself. All Timir could do was look at him and nod along in solid agreement.
After a moment, he shook himself out, dog-like. Iridescent hair shimmered, and he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a grunt, or maybe a weird belch.
@Tsvetok
Vargas's advice that it didn't have to shout went largely unheard, because Tsvetok was already bellowing again.
It'd also quickly decided that
Tsvetok's little brain began to churn after that. Its crest flicked from over its face to standing upright, ridiculous-looking, on top of its skull. What was stopping them both from just... learning both magic?
The Valkhound nodded frantically.
@Vargas
He winced again at Tsvetok.
Honestly, Vargas really needed a vacation.
A moment later he was nodding.
He tried to ignore the assurance that the two giant monster-children would be learning "fire and noises." It seemed far too silly a thing to call the magic of screaming, burning destruction, and the magic of whispering, crushing death. He moreso hated the fact that it was an accurate description.
Vargas spent a few moments briefly going over the Forge's rules, then. He kept it simple, for new-formed brains to comprehend and to remember, and when he'd finished, he took a breath.
It didn't matter. They'd go to war in just a few of whatever 'cycles' were and then they'd have their names back.
Also,
No questions, apparently, about the Forge's rules.
@Tsvetok
Newly-Christened V-Chaos-Seventeen didn't particularly feel like a Seventeen, either. The second Vargas ordered it to stop shouting, however, it did. Thanks, Totum. It didn't even register in Tsvetok's primeval brain that it should question why it felt compelled to do such a thing just because it was told to. It simply did.
Apparently, Vargas had established himself as alpha.
@Vargas
Vargas considered, for a moment.
Ahem. V-Chaos-Seventeen, and V-Chaos-Eighteen.
Wait.
NO.
Vargas shut his eyes.
Valethyr. It had barely even hatched before it'd... slept? Whatever had happened to it. He really should've been keeping better track of an ex-Master's stone.
He tried not to give another sigh, exasperated at himself.