ORIGIN

Vargas glanced back--and rebellion was just how he took it.

He could not let that fester--and his first instinct was to backhand it, to send it sprawling with a hit. Better that then to let this sort of thing grow, to let Nemean see his own creation backtalking him, refusing his orders, after having been created from a rebel from the past-...

But Vargas was an Overseer, and not just a brute. He stayed his hand, wondering first why it had chosen to rebel. His duties required him to gauge the mentality and the abilities of test subjects, and Titanite had struck him as quite malleable and obedient. Would it really be rebelling already?

He turned, the shadows falling away, and loomed menacingly over the child. He stared down at it, severe.

"Why did you say 'no?' Why are you glowing?" he demanded, and his voice was a low, even growl.

And now Titanite was afraid.

It cringed back, the light falling away, cowering down from its father's glare. It did not know what it had done wrong, or rather, how, or why.

"It came... wrong." The whispering-leaves voice found it difficult to convey fear, or apology, and instead Titanite cringed lower. It did not yet know how to say that it was sorry, and so it tried again.

"I am... wrong. I wanted... dark."

The child's cringing down threaded along the Overseer's nerves. Had it cringed any farther, it might have irritated him; the old Titanite had been strong, rebellious yes, but strong. This one was Titanite plus Vargas, and it had better be strong as hell. Cringing was weakness. Cowering was pathetic. But at the same time, the proper deferential respect was a good thing, and to be respected in turn.

For a moment, as Vargas tried to decide which one the child was showing, something else rather blindsided him--guilt. It was faint, and he paused in surprise to analyze this; why should he feel guilty that one of the things was cringing away from him? It should be. But the faint guilt, almost shame, remained.

He grunted, and tried to ignore it, being practical above all else.

"Well, try to hide, instead. It may do you good to be in a place with plants," he reflected, turning away again; "somewhere you can hide more easily." Vargas himself didn't go to Eridanus often, and certainly not Cetus, but he supposed he could install the child there once it was old enough.

"You can trick the rats. Frighten them out, or lure them. Use light or sound for that. Or you can wait until they come, and pounce," he added.

He cast his magicka forward, and the quiet sound of frantic, terrified squeaking began somewhere out ahead. "There," he murmured. "That is my magic. Now go sneak over there, and when rats come, you kill one, and eat it."

Belatedly, he realized that he didn't actually know if Titanite were even carnivorous. Had the old one been--? For all his unfailing memory, this was something that escaped him. Insects, or fruit-? Other plants? Minerals, even, and light? He searched the ancient imagery, but he found nothing. Ahh, well; this one was half him, and he was certainly a carnivore.

Either way, he would know soon enough.

The little one listened dutifully, fear still lingering as Vargas spoke. It wasn't sure what to be afraid of; or rather, what it should have been afraid of. It knew nothing of physical damage, of violence; it only knew that its instincts had nearly forced him to cry out in fear.

But now it had instructions, again, and so it slinked past Vargas (with a wary glance his way) and off ahead into the fortresses. The squeaking sound was somehow, very faintly, distressing. It did not know why. But nothing came of it, at first.

Titanite simply stood there, silent as branches, waiting. And when eventually a whiskered nose poked out from beneath a stone, he speared a pointed twig-like finger straight for it.

There was a scuffle, a moment of louder, more frantic squeaking and then struggling, the rat nearly escaping him and then sinking teeth into his branches. But he felt no pain, in that; it was only wood, and after a moment's fight it was dying, clasped and squeezed in branchlike hands.

Titanite watched, half-horrified but fascinated, as the last life ebbed from its eyes. And then he looked to Vargas, awaiting his father's approval.

There was again, for the briefest moment, a flash of guilt--when Titanite slunk past him, glancing up at him as if afraid that he'd lash out. Vargas puzzled over it, this time, for only a second before pushing it aside, and watching.

The thing had his patience--he had to give it that. It simply stood on all fours, wholly still, for long minutes. It was as though it had stepped out of time entirely, becoming a tree. And when the rat came, Titanite's reaction was savage and swift--and accurate enough.

A few moments later it was turning toward him, peering up, branch-hands wrapped around the dying rat. Vargas could see the splintered pieces where it had tried to chew through Titan's sapling wood, but it didn't seem too bad. He hoped. He wasn't exactly an expert on tree medicine.

"Good!" he told it, and his approval was not forced. "Now, always be aware that others may be sneaking up on you in this way. Don't let them! Don't let them lure you out, and don't let them creep up on you in the dark. Your light might be useful for that--but it's best to hide, yourself, in shadow. Do you want to eat that?" Vargas went on, peering closely at the kid.

Titanite looked down at the rat. Eat it? it thought, uncertainly.

Slowly, once the furred creature was wholly limp, he raised it to his thorn-like teeth and bit down. Faint instinct told him what it was to chew, to eat, and to swallow, but he found that the taste of it did not really spark anything in him. Blood ran down through his plant-like body, but he did not feel like there was all that much nourishment to be had.

At length he turned, and handed the rest of the rat up toward his father, blood streaming down his branching forearm.

"No," he said softly, again--and then, remembering what had happened last time he'd told Vargas no, he hastened to clarify: "Don't want."

Eager to show himself an apt pupil, though, and focusing intently, he continued.

"I will... hide."

"Good," Vargas approved. He took the rat, minus a chunk of its neck, and tossed it back--crunching it and then swallowing it whole.

"If that doesn't appeal, there's other things you might eat. Fruit, plants, bugs, maybe you just root yourself and soak up light, I don't know. I do not remember what your predecessor ate," he told it, worrying a little about this fact. What if it couldn't gain nutrients at all? What if it were defective-?

Worry flickered through him, and the Overseer pushed this away.

"The other thing you need is water. Past that, practice on the rats. Hunt them, fight them, kill them, even if you don't eat them. It will teach you," he went on. "But don't fight if you get wounded. You'll need time to heal. Now: I have things to see to. You stay close to here. There's water just over there, if you need it. I will come back for you."

Titanite stared up, absorbing this all.

"Will hunt. Will hide. Will stay here," it agreed. And then it hesitated, glancing around, that little thing called fear sparking in it again.

It would be... alone?

"Ov-er-seehr-Var-gus," Titanite attempted, wavering, a little--and then its voice, whispering and rasping as it was, became a little smaller--"Will you be gone... long?"

"No," Vargas answered, bluntly. He could see the child's fear. "You will be fine," he added, dismissively rather than reassuringly.

But-... would it? The caves were an awful place, a dangerous place, and this one was a wholly new child.

Faint, protective worry flickered through the Overseer--I'm not concerned. I'm not worried. I'm just responsible for this one. I must be sure I don't leave it before it can handle itself. That would be a waste of expended resources, he told himself, matter-of-factly. And all of that was, of course, true.

Still... it was best that he did not stay away for very long.

"I won't be long at all," he told it, and then turned and strode away.

Fear whispered through it, nonetheless.

Titanite watched Vargas go, watched his hulking form slip with surprising grace out into the bone-fields and out of sight.

And then it turned, looking warily around, before eventually clambering into one of the bone fortresses. It wasn't quite sure how to attract more rats--and though it hadn't bothered it all that much, the idea of killing more did not particularly appeal to it. Maybe in a little while. Or maybe when the gnaw-marks on its arms had gone.

Titanite sat quiet in the dark for long minutes. Alone, in the dark among the bones.

After awhile it began to rock, a little, back and forth; and then, fearful of what might lay just out of sight, it began to glow.

A soft green light illuminated the little bone-cavern, and it cowered there for awhile. And by the time Vargas returned, Titanite would be curled in a corner, half-hidden and fast asleep.