ORIGIN - like my life is a constant f'ing horse chasing a train

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"What is wrong with you?"

Now, isn't that the question! Alpha blinked dumbly at the Leviathan, eyes widening. It left the wall and straightened up very obviously. A petulant I don't fucking know! wouldn't do. The orthoclase tightened its jaw to keep that from coming out and scraped once or twice against the earth. Needle-point teeth gnashed together and its head turned away just slightly. It didn't know. Vargas didn't have an answer. Nobody had an answer.

Its face was throbbing again, scarred brows knitting underneath. A broken-up indication of what lay underneath. It was almost poetic, how this break in its armor left it vulnerable in more ways than one. There was so much inside but it was all so hollow without names to put to every emotion that wasn't part of the brewing cocktail of resentment and near-vengeful thoughts.

Alpha swallowed. Its throat felt dry and swollen at the same time. Like it were stuffed full of cotton. One set of claws moved to fit next to the other. The right was sullied in red, and the left was clean. Either were bracing in the dust. "I'll be fine," it answered, on impulse, trying to get those prying eyes off. Shit, that wasn't an answer. The Overseer added, "I'm just tired." In more ways than one, too.

@Vargas

Vargas eyed it for a moment, and then grunted.

"Good. If you get any sudden revelations about any of this, or even minor ideas, tell me. I do not want this repeating," he added, but even then it didn't sound... urgent. They had more pressing matters--all of them did.

"Regardless, you proved your strength in the arena, and that is something. Now, there is a beast--the small thing, the bird-dog-beast, the healer. It wanted to speak to you. I can send it back if you don't need it," Vargas went on. "Or you can kill it," he added, indifferently.

He waited to see what Alpha wanted; he could send Oliver back, or send it forward, or ignore it entirely; but it was time to reopen the tunnel, as he had other business to attend to.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

"Good." That's it. No further looking in. Too-close conversation perfectly closed and put off to the side; hopefully, this wouldn't repeat and they wouldn't have to pick it up again. Alpha nodded, grunting its assent. As long as these revelations were relevant to the task(s) at hand and not a way to enter into a heart-to-heart it inexplicably did not want to have with Vargas.

What'd changed? Just one little strike across the face? Oh — It blinked and shook its mane out as casually as one could. Which was to say quite.

Then, the arena — it'd thought it wanted to watch the matches. Once it was settled in, it'd enjoyed the first gauntlet of the brackets. Different Gembound, familiar and not, to observe and learn from. Physical fighting was its forte, even if it usually added teeth and claws to the mix. Alpha'd deprived itself of that. But, even still, they wouldn't've let it continue on account of bloodshed and injury. Completely disqualified while leaving.

The orthoclase didn't need the Olympics or anything like that to know its own physical strength. It fidgeted. What was it's… internal strength?

Toxic eyes blinked again, barely putting a face to the description. Bird-dog was incredibly vague, and enough so that his face didn't jut out of its poorly-organized mental store of names and faces. It asked after him, "was it at the arena?" If it had been, then there was another one looking to make a fool out of it.

we're almost to medium thread length. time to dedicate an entire post to asking one (1) question
@Vargas

Vargas glanced back.

"Yes. The healer, I said, the--'medic.' Whatever it calls itself. Its magic is strong and I haven't discounted it as your influencer, but I will keep a distant watch in case it does try something. But I have other things to deal with; I have to get that wall back down, for one thing, so use your own caution if you choose to speak with it."

He paused, then, tail twitching briefly, eyeing Orthoclase-Alpha. Was it stable-? Were these the beginnings of signs of failed design? Would it go mad, useless to him, dead?

Vargas hesitated for a moment, but he did not know how to say "hey I hope you're all right" in any sort of casual or meaningful sense. And somehow any of his "I trust you will recover to be in working order" gruff statements would sound more like threats. He shook the thought away--the concern was new, but he hadn't the time for that sort of weakness right now.

So he waited to see if it had further questions, eyeing it up and down.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

It hadn't ever really seen Oliver, except in passing. A face in the crowd at the wrestling tournament; a dark figure darting in and out of Canis before the fight against Mother (or whatever it'd been); a little shadow occasionally coming around to work on the only forested alcove in the bone pit.

The crow-dog'd been there in any case. Watched it go completely berserk at apparently nothing; and he still wanted to talk to it? About what? Alpha's jaw clenched. Or, more reasonably, he was just checking after it. The orthoclase'd left before he could give his assessment.

Maybe… there wouldn't be any harm in it.

"I'll talk to it," it grunted, standing and already starting to pick its way around Vargas. Alpha hesitated upon realizing it had no idea where the Medic even was, and glanced at its Master for an indication before proceeding.

@Vargas

Vargas eyed the paused Orthoclase, and offered a light shrug.

"A little back toward Canis. Use your magic; you'll find it. Or just call for it. It seems tractable enough." He'd have suggested Orthoclase-Alpha sniff it out, but he knew as well as any hunter that the scent of blood had a way of washing away all other odors.

"Return to the tunnel whenever you are done." Vargas turned, but for a moment he did not move.

There was... a talk, he should likely have with Orthoclase-Alpha at some point. But now was probably not the time, not with it stressed as it was: and in any case, he still wasn't quite sure how to phrase everything, himself. But it reminded him of something (only tangentially) related, and he glanced back to ask: "By the way: is there a reason you have not chosen yourelf a name?"

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Alpha sniffed and got nothing but the coppery tang of blood. Sensing through magic was vastly preferable than just meandering around Canis, yowling "Medic! Medic!" over and over again. It turned away again and grunted in acknowledgement of the order to return; it'd come back in a while, regardless of if it found Oliver - and hopefully in a better state than it was in now. One of the Sentinels could take its place on watch so it could take the nap it thought it needed. All problems can be solved with a good sleep, apparently.

The orthoclase plodded off one pace before Vargas asked a closing question. Names, names, names. Its claws clicked against the stone as it shuffled to peer at him. A reason? More than the terrifying permanence of a name? The way it cemented it into the uncertainties of personhood? Sure, time was persistently running out and a doomsday clock was ticking ever-closer.

But time was the fact of the matter. Four toxic eyes blinked, and it rumbled, "I've been too busy to think about it." When it did have time, it was not enough to get anywhere but another near-break in its mental state. That, and it hadn't had the chance to get away long enough and consult the Gembound of the Caves about it. No familiar faces, though.

It turned yet again and padded off a few feet, eyes scanning the landscape of Canis, looking for feathery pinions and whatnot hiding out in the circulatory silhouette. Bird-like, but altogether too big. Alpha paused in wait for another dismissal; if it received it, it headed in the direction of Oliver - towards that odd wooded grove.

@Vargas

That was an entirely fair answer, really.

"Very well," he responded, and turned to pace away. He had a lot on his mind, too; he hoped that Orthoclase-Alpha would not become too problematic. The job of an Overseer was to assume responsibilities, and--well, oversee them. To have to cover what Alpha was doing, and check up on it when it broke down, would be more work instead of less.

Ahh, which reminded him... Vargas halted just a few steps away, pausing and glancing back. "If Lord Dhracia accepts my work, if I perform it well and we are successful, I would reward all of you for a job well done. I would like your opinion on what you, and the others, might see as a suitable reward. Think on it," he urged, and then turned away again.

His pace picked up and he was soon out of sight among the bones, heading back to Tunnel P and his ever-important work.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

... perhaps it would ask some familiar faces about it. The more knowledgeable and tolerable ones, despite the questions they'd have that it did not want to answer. Alpha could almost hear the poorly greased mental seesaw squealing back and forth between its options. It could just take the time to work at it and not be so terrified by the mere idea of self-determined identity. Moreover, self-determined anything.

Such as what to reward the office with in the event its audit ran clear. It nodded, even though Vargas'd already turned back around. "Yes, Master Vargas," the orthoclase added after a pause. Not an immediate priority to expedite to the top of the pile. Perhaps one to forget in time, having not been made with photographic memory in mind; or made in that specific sense at all. No intention behind it.

Then, it was trudging through the bones on its own, following the lingering silhouette in its vision. Sanguine and likely feathery, loitering in the aforementioned single spot of green in all of Canis. Just milling about, working at something. Alpha shrugged off its magic and skulked to the threshold. Minuscule sprigs of grass sprouted from the cracks in the earth. It stepped on none of them, instead craning its neck to peer at the growth and wherever Oliver might be.

"You," it grunted abruptly, with no regard given to the crow-dog's heart health. Enjoy the massive, blood-stained monster on your doorstep.

@Oliver (sorry if this tags twice i accidentally posted on selenite lmfaoooo)

To say that Oliver was 'working' was a bit of an overstatement. He was, instead, sort of nervously busying himself with a random plant, fidgeting, trying not to think about the massive size of the creatures he'd put himself in company with today. Trying not to think about the shocking pain of his new wounds, now that the magic was wearing off, though he kept trying to use his own to gradually mend the worst of it. There was still blood clotting his fur and feathers, in places, though he'd washed off as much of it as he could.

He'd had to oversee the medic-side of the rest of the Olympics, but luckily they hadn't lasted all that long. Still, a quiet munching-of-fruit and drinking-of-water here had been a surprising refresher, and now he felt a little better, if quite tired.

The sudden "you" woke him right back up again.

Oliver turned, blinking, and his tufted ears flattened back--not as if afraid, but almost as if happy to see the violent stranger. And he was, in a sense; he'd been worried the Orthoclase-creature wouldn't come and see him.

"Me," he agreed; "I'm, uh, Oliver--you... probably heard that in the trial thing, maybe--or I guess you were busy-... Um. I just--I wanted to talk to you, if that's okay? And to ask if you needed any help, if you were--hurt at all or... anything," he trailed off, quietly.

Oh, and he was--host, here; he turned and glanced around. "There's--food here, too, if you're hungry. Uh, no meat but--there's grass, and fruit and leaves and things, and fresh water if you want it." He looked back at Orthoclase-Alpha, unsure. His nature was one of empathy and kindness, but he wasn't sure if the creature even felt such things, or if it were so alien that all it knew was violence.

But its snapping, the rise and fall of its quills--that most of all--and the cringing way it had departed... despite his own wounds, he had taken notice. And-... well, he didn't know the stranger, and to say that Oliver had a plan would certainly be a stretch. But something about Orthoclase-Alpha, about the whole situation--well, Oliver hadn't felt right just leaving it alone.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

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