Vargas watched them come in, one by one, and observed them. Their conditions, their demeanor, whether they were helping others or running by themselves. Everything was a test; every choice they made reflected something--neither good nor bad, but something--about themselves. He'd watched as best he could with his magic, through the barrier, but past a certain distance he'd been waiting blind.
He was surprised to see that Vinea was no longer among them, and he searched, for awhile, with his eyes.
Palefur, too. The cat. The ultimate survivor--had died..? His already-low estimation of its questionable spawn dropped even lower. A failure, that one. He'd been banking on the abilities of its parent, but apparently Palefur had fallen short, in the end.
A shame.
And Imp-... Vargas stared, quizzically, as the hybrid launched into his tirade. That, Vargas had to admit, was surprising--not the tirade, that much he expected of the foul-mouthed little shit, but the fact that Imp had survived and placed.
Interesting.
He hardly heard its words, but what he did hear raised his rigid brows as high as they would go. There was a mixture, there, of indignant disbelief and hilarity--he dared?! Though some of what he said--well, it was true. Ahh, well; let him think he was free. Let him imagine.
Vargas almost envied him that.
He didn't answer, however, instead turning his gaze toward the rest. Many had performed well, and-... Some of them apparently lived... in Hydra? He'd have to look into that more later on. He'd never heard of such a thing, though they hardly looked like fighters.
And the rest. Null, one leg missing but alive--Vargas dismissed this one. It had lived, but it would not live well; useless for their purposes. Ivory, Virgil--were they a little larger, perhaps, and as it was he noted them down, mentally, as potential stone- or life-givers for front-line troopers. They could likely barrel into foes, bowling them aside-... Agate had done well, and he offered that one a nod. First place--from last, last time, had it been? To them he offered a quiet "well done," of approval. Desert he'd speak to later on, as it requested; it looked exhausted, but it had survived.
Good.
Wynter he didn't know what to make of. Useful? Mostly uninjured. Magic, perhaps-? He'd ask Desert Rose to explain that one, later. Fisher, too battered, too small. Hargrave--another like Kera's brood. Ubiquitous. Successful, he supposed. And Lyra, some relation of the same-? Shida... Ahh, she and Ivory, yes--children of the Storm-fool. Interesting, that. Kalama-... Disappointing, perhaps, though he hadn't expected much of it.
When the last of them were safely secured in their gemstones, the Overseer pushed up. He had training to see to. "Update me when they wake," he said simply, and turned, pacing out toward Canis, alone with his mental notes.
