ORIGIN

Vargas grunted.

"Good," he said, without any actual feeling in it--just a statement, passing--"then rest, now. And find me when you're ready, for--" a vague, claw-handed, gesture--"Any of that."

He reached down to press on his left leg, feeling the terrible cramping finally easing off. His mind was already elsewhere, planning--on Alpha, certainly, but also wondering where Ruby-Beta had gone. He hadn't seen it in some time, and it had been his choice for training up. Was it truly so small that it could provide no challenge for Alpha-?

"Does Beta provide no challenge for you?" Vargas asked, swinging his head back to scrutinize Alpha. Alpha was a shock-trooper, front-line, for sure; but Beta? Beta seemed, to Vargas, like himself: a hunter, a stalker, a reaver. But it could, he thought, be of use along the edges of the front line: leaping in, in the dark, wreaking havoc at the borders.

Sowing, he thought, with a grin, chaos.

Once Alpha had given its answer, Vargas spoke further. Alpha had asked a question, and had it been a Master who had asked (or, worse, her,) he'd have not known how to answer. He had no answer, even for himself. Titanite had been a conceit, and one he wasn't sure it had been worth giving into: a personal twinge of some emotion Vargas did not quite understand, wrapped up and wreathed in excuses and false practicality.

Some of that had faded, since. As it was, it didn't matter to him all that much that another child was asking, but to give an answer that could not be used against him later--something vague, one of a dozen he'd thought up and fretted over in the past four cycles.

"He is a special project," was all the Overseer said, disinterestedly, dismissively. "You will see soon enough."

A pause, as he stood--tested out the cramped leg, now merely sore--and then he turned away. "Find me when you are ready."

And off he went, slipping into the bones of Canis.