Ever since Vargas had dropped her off after the chat with his other servants, Palefur had, unfortunately, found herself once again without a job. She didn't have a purpose again. It was depressing, especially after she'd gotten her hopes up so high that she'd finally found something worth doing and someone worth following. But Overseer Vargas hadn't given her a job yet - she didn't even have a title. Kera was the Hang, Garnet was the Eyes, and she was...the cat. Really special name, there.
Still, her disappointment didn't show in her walk - she was as composed and serious as ever, stepping through Canis with eyes slightly narrowed, searching for a very specific little bastard. She hadn't gotten much out of Kera, she didn't really seem in the mood to talk, but the strange hybrid seemed to be a little more reasonable and easier to talk to. Hopefully. More so then Overseer Vargas, at least, who left her nothing but breadcrumbs to try and piece together his goals and what he meant by "the old ways".
Garnet had headed this way, right? She thought she'd seen it around the bones. Eyes flitted to and fro, trying to catch a sight of the strange bird-like creature, or perhaps the Overseer himself.
As for why it was back here... it'd been hungry and insects seemed to prefer the stink and decay of the bone pit over Tunnel P's barren dryness. At the moment, it crunched down on the chitinous exterior of some weird bug, tossing it back quickly.
Ears pricking even with the soft padding of a cat's little feet, the alien turned. Ah - oh! The Overseer had tasked them with creating - or breeding - a cat-hybrid, and here was one, readily available and apparently still without a job. Clearing its throat and fluttering closer, Hemlocke nodded. "Cat of the Overseer! It's been some time." Cordial, but to the point. "Have you been assigned any tasks, yet?"
The Eye had at least a little authority over the dutiless Cat, right?
@Palefur
Palefur's eyes snapped up when she heard her name called, focusing in on the alien immediately as it approached. She stopped walked and allowed it to close the distance between them, holding her head high as she gazed down at the little thing.
"Ah - yes," it chirped dismissively, since there was little more to add to that situation (other than the terrible betrayal it had committed and later presentation of the betrayed to Master Nemean.) "I've chosen a name - Hemlocke, but you can still refer to me by my designation," the Eye proceeded, tacking on the last bit after a moment of deliberation. Palefur likely hadn't bothered to remember the more consistent set of numbers and gemstone, as did most of the Youngers. Oh well. Worth a shot.
"Desert Rose Thirty-Five - another champion from the most recent Trial -" for the one out of the loop - "and I have set to assembling those that are interested in adapting to and preserving the way of the Masters, with our Overseer's blessing. He's requested little but that we -" Hemlocke paused, eyeing the cat with a bit of a dramatic flair. "Create hybrids. Particularly those of a cat sort."
To the point, again: "it isn't within my position to assign you a task, but being in this group could be something to do in the meantime. Keep your... paws... busy."
@Palefur
Palefur's eyes narrowed as she watched the little creature jump up onto the stone and moved a little so that she was facing it directly again. She supposed it was easier to have a conversation with it now, but she couldn't help feel a flare of amusement that their size difference was that insulting. She didn't voice this, just stored the information for now and began her judgement of Hemlocke.
She didn't seem to react at all to Hemlocke's request, nor did she internally have anything to say about it either. Vargas had implied that cats were something special and that he had been looking for them for one reason or another. It made sense, then, that he'd requested for more. She felt a sting at that thought, that she wasn't enough for the Overseer, but...no, it wasn't that. He just wanted as many strong Gembounds as possible.
Anyways. "My entire designation is Garnet Five-Seven-Nine; gem and number, Palefur," it corrected lightly, "I don't have a preference, but Youngers seem to. They don't like numbers." Annoying. "The old ways were certainly a much better method. I'll leave it to our Overseer to explain it to you later, but you've the gist of it already. It weeds out the weak and promotes the strong. Establishes order." There were, of course, many other facets to it, but those were too deep into the nitty-gritty to waste any time explaining.
Were Hemlocke more of a businessman and had hands, it would have clasped them together and then offered one for a shake. Instead, ruby-red eyes went half-lidded, pleased. "Good. That's all I had to ask of you. Our group will be tasked with training and preparing Youngers for the trials - Overseer Vargas plans to enact a winter trial" (it shuddered) "in a few cycles. It's likely that he'll expect you to participate. Proving your worth and whatnot."
Knowing that it could avoid participation, it smiled inwardly. No freezing and slowly shutting down to be eviscerated by the beasts of the snow for it. Its thoughts faltered, though, knowing that its brother-in-arms would be forced to or be claimed an agent of dissension. The desert rose was surprisingly resilient for his line, though, and he would endure.
@Palefur
Palefur continued to stare with a polite indifference, not at all caring for whatever Hemlocke was thinking about - she was more interested in the Old Ways that it was apparently not going to indulge. That would not do. She blinked slowly and offered a small smile.
Instead, she made a small comment -
"We - as in the Champions and old creatures like Overseer Vargas himself - were created to complete tasks. Our Overseer follows his title, as well as that of the Hunter. He keeps rebels in place. I and other Champions are created to perform in Trials and prove our worth for other duties. Some go on to become scouts, warriors, defenders, workers - all for Overseers and Masters and their creations. Others go on to the grave or are lost in the sands of Hydra." It paused here, indicating towards the vast array of bones in Canis. "These are the remains of failures. Those unworthy of continuing on in life and taking up space."
Even now, they took up space. Hemlocke grimaced. At least some had gone to use in the heart of Cetus.
"In the old ways, there was order, unity. Purpose. A universal understanding that some are meant to lead and some are to follow."
The tiny alien raised a webbed foot again, if only to wave it around and make a small theremin noise. "Names are - were - earned. They're honors, not quite on par with but like titles. I have no preference." It was uncertain if the system used for keeping track of designations was still - ah, had there even been one that it was aware of? With the persistence of names in these caves, Hemlocke doubted there'd be any way to account for every single creature of every single cut of gem born since the Spire... changed. Could these Youngers even be considered part of the fold?
"I'm not sure if you will be given one, no," it concluded after that long moment of deliberation, "not an official one, at least."
@Palefur
Palefur listened attentively, storing away all this information for later, each word making her more and more convinced that this was simply right. A world of order, of a well-made system keeping the caves in line. Rebels and those that tried to tear the system down, that tried to ruin an orderly world, were crushed and put down - failures. It was almost exactly the world she'd always dreamed of building. She didn't let her excitement show, instead allowed Hemlocke to see a polite, keen interest.
But, Hemlocke took it in stride, musing more about the difference of then and now. On the subject of why such a method to madness had gone away, the Eye wasn't completely certain. The Overseer's explanation had been vague enough that he likely wasn't sure, either. "I believe time has stolen it from us," it admitted with a shrug of shoulders, "but I don't have complete faith in that. All that I am aware of is that the Spire of now is not the one that lent us life."
It ground its beak, tail flicking uncertainly. Contributions would be something to be sought out from the Overseer - it wasn't of rank to assign duties willy-nilly. Servitude seniority didn't grant rights to demanding things from fellow servants. That was reserved for higher management. "The group's goals will be to prepare for the trials, make Youngers more receptive to the execution of them," Hemlocke began, "perhaps it would be helpful if you - one of them - vouched for it. I'm certain that our Overseer will require that we spread the news of his winter trial and gather willing and required participants." Word couldn't travel too quick on those soft little paws, though - could it?
@Palefur