ORIGIN

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Don't sing if you want to live long, some had said as a hallmark of the past era, they have no use for your songs.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine — that was its name, it needed no other, it did not have a sense of self that would require a unique identity, it was replaceable even as it had waited so long — had never needed such a phrase. The champion was just all it should be: loyal, subordinate, submissive. Evading natural selection to prove its worth in the game of life. Experiments for a greater purpose. It had forgotten, somewhat, what that greater purpose was, again.

Shifting its wings, the garnet easily placed blame on its own confusion. Awakened without cause and no overseer to be seen for ages. Even now, the caves quieted more than they had while it and the other champions rested. No clamoring of trialgoers, no pitiful cries for help from heretics — nothing.

The champions hadn't been taught much in the way of agency, the ability to make their own decisions. There was, of course, the feral sort of agency which acts up just enough to survive, but none of the more introspective sort. Garnet Five-Seven-Nine was unsure of how to proceed, now that the foolish other Gembound had gone. It wondered idly of their fates, if the masters had put a swift end to them. But, of course, it wondered more about why it had awakened.

Wings shifted again, toes flexing about the precipice. In the past few cycles, it had scarcely moved from this spot (a jagged ridge of rock against the left wall of this tunnel, close to Hydra's entrance) except to find a quick meal. Watching, waiting with sharp eyes glinting with a need for knowledge.

@Vargas

Vargas was pacing steadily toward Hydra--on what business, no one knew but him. He was oblivious, at first, to the creature perched high up on the ledge, left of him; his mind was elsewhere, and he was secure enough in his power that he was not all that alert, right now.

His pace held a limp. His pink-purple skin, thickly-armored, was strangely pocked and streaked with burn scars, and a number of wounds over his body were freshly-scarred, too. For Overseer Vargas to take injury was... unprecedented; he had remained unscarred until now.

Or perhaps he simply slept enough, in his stone, that the scars tended to recede.

But for him to be seen pacing at a limp through the tunnels and caves, one forelimb taking barely any weight?

Only when he drew quite near to Hydra's entrance did he spot the out-of-place splash of color overhead, and there, at last, he stopped. His head craned up, his six eyes peering toward Garnet. It took him a moment to even recognize the creature--it had changed since last he'd seen; but hadn't they all? The survivors-? He eyed it over from the ground below before calling up to it.

"Garnet Five-Seven-Nine," he barked, a formal greeting. He paused, and then went on--"You have changed. And you are awake?" Curiosity laced his tone. Usually, they slept until called upon again--but this time it had been Hag'trego to send them back into their sleep. What had the strange creature done?

Vargas held little respect for anyone, but the kernel he felt for Garnet was genuine. It was difficult to survive Hydra--to survive any of the Trials. But this one had always been a survivor. Swift, agile, ruthless and immediate in its decision-making. It held none of the hesitation that had gotten so many killed, and it had always strived for nothing but survival. Despite its small size, it was a winner, and Vargas approved of this. That didn't mean that he saw it as an equal--or anything close to such--but the silence that followed his greeting was real patience as he waited for Garnet to speak.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

The champion's ears canted forward at heavy footsteps, ruby-red eyes flicking in that direction immediately. It tensed immediately, prey-instinct rising at the immense bulk moving down the corridor. Wings bunched uncomfortably at the shoulder, primed and ready to move at a moment's notice. Not that it would have mattered in the end — the Overseer had already focused his attention upon it, acknowledging for a moment before addressing it.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine straightened where it perched, distantly noting that it stood at a higher place than the larger beast, just outside of reach. "Overseer Vargas," it chirped in the slight pause, clambering down the rocky spire so that it was below the hunter's eye-level. Ears back, head bowed, eyes looking up. Textbook subordination.

Change's mention made it suddenly conscious of sail-like wings, spreading them once before tucking them tightly against its sides. The difference was just as astounding to it as it was to the Overseer. "I believe that all of the champions have, Overseer," the garnet tilted its head further, "we did not awaken at the same time."

Finally, the champion gazed back up, ears forwards again — it had offered answers, and felt at will to request some: "I don't understand why we were awakened. I have spent cycles awaiting another trial — yet, not a sign of one. The others have gone, speaking of —" Garnet Five-Seven-Nine spat, putting on a show of the treachery it witnessed, "they spoke of uprising. I told them they were fools, Overseer — rebellion means death. I would never have a part in it." Selling out was establishing good standing, yes?

@Vargas

Vargas lowered himself to his haunches, barely able to suppress a (still slightly visible) wince. Much of the burn-scarred portion of his body still ached, sometimes piercingly, in places.

Unimportant.

He lifted one long arm, at the creature's first set of questions. One clawed hand gestured, vaguely. "I did not arrange this set of trials; I only Oversaw. The one these 'Gembound' call 'Merchant'," he went on, aware that Garnet might know of 'Masked Merchant,' but would be utterly unware of 'Hag'treho', "arranged it. I know not what he has planned for your future tests--for your awakenings."

Vargas was in no hurry, and so, after a moment's thought, he continued. "We have slept for a very long time," and--unexpectedly--he felt a faint and weary sense of kinship with this lesser being. Certainly, it was but a test subject--but it, like he, was loyal to the old ways.

Old ways that, it seemed more and more, no longer existed. His forelimb lowered to the ground, and he sat hunched like a massive, spiked canine.

"Things have changed, though I am putting them right. But meanwhile you may wander as you see fit, I suppose; but do not go too far, and treat the Masters, as always--should you happen across them--with respect." The first bit was almost begrudgingly said; Vargas still wasn't acclimated to simply having spontaneously-spawned lesser beings wandering the caves freely. The second was a warning: if one of these test subjects insulted Nemean, for example, Vargas felt it would reflect badly upon him. He'd been responsible for their testing, after all.

When Garnet spoke, however, of rebellion--well, that sent all six eyes widening. The forest of quills at his back and chest rose with a quiet rattle, erecting like hackles, and he slowly stood: towering over the submissive, but loyal, being. Rage flooded through him, though of course not directed at Garnet; still, he loomed over it, staring imperiously down.

He was silent for a moment, regaining his self-control. Lashing out and crushing the messenger would do no one any good--and in any case, he hadn't all the information from it, yet. "Uprising...?" and now, his voice was quiet ice. "Tell me, little one... Which of them, precisely, spoke of uprising?"

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine tried not to look too obvious in its brief scan of the Overseer's hide, pockmarked and mottled with a number of burns. The slight limp was uncharacteristic and, really, the only reason the champion even dared to stay around. Stories told of the lightning-quick hunter. Ambushes were often the end. It looked only once, a brief scan, before standing at attention once more to hear responses. Just one flick of the eyes. The movement may not have been noticed, diminutive as the hybrid was.

Nodding slowly, it ground its teeth in thought. The Merchant, a looming figure of death, had indeed been there. The champion had assumed, though, that the trial was Vargas's or a Master's doing. To its knowledge, the Merchant was not an Overseer or Master. The next tidbit of information was, at least, not entirely new; an assumption proven correct. Even fresh and lively with energy from a chrysalis, the garnet had felt an ancient cramp in its limbs.

The champion's claws scratched at the rock absently when presented with a conundrum: 'wander as you see fit.' Explore the caves? As it desired? Thought? Breathed? "Yes, Overseer," Garnet Five-Seven-Nine chirped, an uncertain note clear. How it would go about this, it wasn't quite sure yet. Perhaps it could find a way to assist in restoring the old ways. Diminutive and lesser as it was, it was of somewhat decent intellect. "Anything you need, I am willing to provide." Rather unnecessary, given it would be outright stated, but, y'know.

Vargas's display most certainly had an impact, though, even if it wasn't particularly aimed at it. Heart rate increasing tenfold, the hybrid spun on a dime, coiled up, and sprung away to the cover of a small hole in the stones. Its claws were still scrabbling at the dusty floor — shoving itself deeper into the recess — by the time that lethal voice returned. Garnet Five-Seven-Nine drew a deep breath, tail arching in the air as it pushed out of the hideyhole, and faced the Overseer again. Nervous, but clear-speaking, "the silver lizard with wings, for one — and the one with horns of tiger's eye. They claimed a need to kill Nemean. They called her a Betrayer. The black one on four legs wanted to 'warn' the rest of the Caves of the trials."

After a pause, it added: "Opal Three-Seven-Six was there, as well." No further comment on that, as the champion was uncertain of the finned creature's loyalties.

@Vargas

Vargas didn't notice Garnet's look--for one thing, its eyes were on either side of its head with very little white to them, and for another, he didn't care. He was lost in his own thoughts as he spoke, anyway.

When eventually Garnet--in response to his own enraged movement--skittered into a hole, he followed a pace and waited, exasperated. Yet even in the midst of his anger it occurred to him that Five-Seven-Nine's lightning reflexes left no room for logical thought. It wasn't an act of rebellion, so much as the reason for Five-Seven-Nine's continued survival.

And it was showing loyalty, at least--crawling back out, telling him what he wanted to know. He tried to be patient with it.

It didn't really occur to Vargas that Five-Seven-Nine might be lying. Yes, there'd been those who'd hidden, lied and rebelled--Vargas had personally hunted and killed a very large number of those. But none had ever waltzed right up to him and lied bald-faced to him; it was perhaps arrogance that he didn't consider the possibility.

Instead, his thoughts ran darker, a twinning of anger and pleasure. It seems it is time to hunt again.

"Tiger's eye," he began slowly, thoughtfully, running his mind back along the participants. He could remember that one: a creature who'd already had beige wings (A past Champion? Not one of mine) and a leering, permanent grin on its face. And the silver dragon--and it was a dragon, he thought--he remembered that one easily.

Vargas frowned, as best his rigid face allowed, and peered thoughtfully down at Garnet. He couldn't remember a black four-legged thing, at least. And he had to know what, exactly, had been said--though Garnet was already proving helpful in that regard.

Do I really need to know? I can confront them, shake them up, put them in their place--ask them what they said. Give them a chance to reconsider... But no, I need to know if one is already, truly, a threat and set in their ways.

"This is good. Thank you for coming to me. Garnet Five-Seven-Nine, how would you like to earn... special favor?" He let this hang, for just a moment, in the air. Most test subjects would have leapt gleefully at this, in the past, quivering for even a whisper of such a chance. Perhaps the skipping of a potentially-fatal trial, or the allowance of reproduction, or even a home den of their own... "I have such an offer for you, but I need to know exactly which of them said what. And describe the black one more clearly," he added, grimly thoughtful.

The behemoth looked focused, but once more he settled himself on his haunches, more intent than about to pounce.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Blood still roaring in its ears and heart kicking fretfully in its chest, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine bowed its head and took a deep, steadying breath. Adrenaline pricked at its haunches, the Overseer's looming countenance doing no favors to the deeply rooted need to spring away from danger now. Escape and ask questions later, instincts said.

It glanced up, head turned just sideways to see a little better, and blinked. Special favor? Hear out this offer, said the champion. "I would be honored," the odd hybrid stated with a nod. A fairly tame reaction compared to the uptick in excitement driving goosebumps up and down its back. Feathers rose up in a tell-tale sign of pride and glee. While expressions could be monitored, the garnet couldn't help but show a little eagerness to please. It was trained into it, after all.

"The silver lizard rejected the Merchant's gift. She was given a stinger, like the scorpions — the Tiger's Eye, too. She claimed that the Masters were 'toying with lives' and that she would no longer do things for them. She insulted the trials and what they stood for, claiming me to be a slave." The champion wasn't that low in the hierarchy. "She and the Tiger's Eye believe that Nemean must die — he has been told by a 'Dragon' in 'Cetus' that she is a betrayer. Aquarian is — something called a 'granddad' to him. He claims to have done crude graffiti of Nemean, too." Garnet Five-Seven-Nine could not begin to imagine what boy-parts meant. There wasn't much time to investigate those sorts of things between trials.

"Opal seemed as confused and bewildered as I did by all of this talk, but — seemed carefully neutral." Then, taking a sharp breath, it tried to recount what the black one looked like. "The black one simply wished to warn the caves and seemed to have the common sense to know that the Masters are powerful and cannot be opposed. It had four limbs, with short claws. They were a strange brown color, and the chest, too. Its face was long with a wet-looking nose and small ears. I couldn't see its stone well, but it was between its eyes. It emerged with wings like an eyehook's. It was — furry, but short-furry."

As if being furry were the strangest bit about it.

@Vargas

Vargas listened carefully. At points, he interjected brief questions or remarks.

At the mention of Asimona rejecting the gift, for example, his eyes squinted down, a little. "Rejected?" What, had she cut it off? He was certain that Garnet would explain. And he thought, but didn't say, of COURSE they are toying with their lives! These are tests, and they belong to us; they are our creations! But a faint sense of unease briefly washed through him. Were they still 'our creations?' Hadn't the Spire created these--the new Spire, the strange Spire...? Vargas pushed the thought roughly aside.

He didn't comment on the "slave" remark--or, rather, he didn't bother to. Of course they were slaves. He was puzzled as to why that would even come up.

As for Nemean--Vargas' eyes widened, his claws grinding into the rock a little. He stifled a sound--half-growl, half-laugh. He was sure that Nemean would find their wishes amusing, if not insulting--but he doubted they'd live very long, afterward. "I have met this, 'Dragon,'" he mused aloud, turning his six-eyed gaze down on Garnet again. "I believe there was argument between two of the Masters--nothing serious... a lover's quarrel," he added, with dark amusement. "Repeat that and I will tear your limbs off one by one. But the rest of the Tiger's Eye's allies--Dragon included--supposedly simply wish to be left in peace. This one, however--this one has gone too far," he decided. Graffiti, too, of all things? Vargas was half-outraged, half deeply, deeply amused by Imp's (for that was the tiger's eye's name) art-oriented defiance. Seems things haven't changed so much, after all.

At the description of Styx, he commented only, "Ahh, the Sardonyx."

After Five-Seven-Nine fell silent, Vargas remained quiet, for a long time--thinking. He'd want to hunt these two down, individually--the silver dragon, and the Tiger's Eye both. They would need to be confronted, and he'd have to ensure that they were brought back into line--and kill them if they weren't. Start out with an ambush. Lure them in, break their wings. His most recent "test" of another dragon--having failed to ground it to begin with--had left its mark, but that had been just that; a test, and not a hunt.

This would be drastically different. He had preparations to make, though they wouldn't take long.

Vargas looked to Five-Seven-Nine, his voice taking on a note of praise.

"Very good. You have done well. And now, my offer for you. I have already declared another of these newer creatures my Hand within the caves--to bring me knowledge of the caves as they now stand, and to retrieve things for me as I ask it and so on. She is not, however, suited to be a spy, a scout; and she knows nothing of the old ways. I would name you my Eyes, that you might seek for me what I ask you to." Vargas paused, his gaze trailing over the diminuitive creature. The faint tone of praise, or at least approval, lingered.

He admired survivors.

"You have always been good, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine, at moving quickly, at staying hidden and out of danger. I need someone to seek out these two for me: the silver dragon, and the tiger's eye--without being seen, in turn. I need to know where they live; where they lurk. Where they hunt. Their habits. And then you will find me, and bring me this knowledge. Should you succeed, you may continue to serve me in this capacity. In turn..." Vargas paused, eyeing Garnet.

Here it came. The offering of a reward. Vargas didn't really care about any of it, but he knew how much the little things meant to these poor, tormented wretches.

Heh.

"You will be deemed Eyes of the Overseer, and those who would harm you would incur my wrath, for harming one of mine. You would be excused from Trials, if you do not wish to join them; you would be granted that freedom to roam... perhaps a moot point, now," he admitted. "And afforded a dwelling-space in Orion's buildings, should you wish it. Though I think those may be... in need of repairs," he added vaguely. "Mostly rubble and ruins," really, but it beat being stuck in a chrysalis between trials. Right? Oh, and--"And you may select a name for yourself, as well."

He studied Garnet, for a moment, before asking his question.

"Do you accept?"

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

"Verbally," the dragon had rejected the gift. It had not seen her physically hack the limb off and throw it at the earth with an inappropriate amount of cursing and stomping. That may have been a funny sight, watching as poison and blood seeped into the open wound. Would venom be deadly to its owner? Karma, really, for being an idiot. "She talked a lot, with little bite — especially for having attacked an eyehook matriarch, alone." Idiot.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine kept its beak shut, caught mostly unawares with the concept of being a lover. Affection was new in its little fishbowl world, and here the Overseer was: opening the barred cage bit by bit, letting it glimpse what lie beyond and swearing it to secrecy promptly. Its ears swayed with a tilt of its head, a silent promise. Besides, it had little to no chance of personally attracting the attention of either of the Masters mentioned. They were spoken of in passing, but not spoken to. At least, that was how it was in the old days. The old days that needed to be restored.

It waited to speak again, and was rewarded with a luxurious reward and offer: high praise and acknowledgement from an Overseer; a title and protection as his Eyes; excusing from trials; the freedom to roam; housing; and a name. All of this, for espionage, identifying the whereabouts of the dragon and the tiger's eye, learning their habits and passing them along to Vargas.

The champion's eyes, of course, widened with each offer, hopelessly enamored with having basic necessities. Shelter and the ability to live outside of a gemstone bubble was an attractive deal, indeed. Without much consideration, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine chirruped, "I accept, Overseer Vargas." Its tail wagged across the floor, haunches prickling with a desire to spring about and frolick; what a strange, unfamiliar feeling that was.

@Vargas

"Good," Vargas rumbled. "I know you will serve me will, in this and beyond. Go, now, and find them for me... and bring me back the knowledge I seek. Eyes of the Overseer." He paused, considering. "Or 'Eye,' if you prefer," he mused. That might sound better?

Meh.

He hoped he didn't seem as though he were second-guessing himself--but also, he didn't really care.

With a confident rumble he turned and paced away, leaving Garnet to its...

He glanced back, flicking his gaze up to the rocks of the tunnel's corners.

...Whatever it had been doing up there.

With that, Vargas made his way away, back the way he'd come--the idle musing that had brought him to Hydra's doorstep now, in the wake of this news of rebellion, forgotten.

exit Vargas; @Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

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