ORIGIN

Vargas gave this question perhaps more consideration than your average creature should have. No "well, I don't want to murder others?" popped out of those hook-toothed jaws; no reassurance or explanation that all creatures could feel pain. Or maybe that cold-blooded killing was morally wrong. No: it was clear that he hadn't thought this over, yet, himself.

And his answer, far from being made up on the spot, was again honest: a sort of mulling-over, a musing-aloud, that he shared with his new Overseer. "I do not quite know," he said. "In the past, it was my duty to hunt and kill the damaged who had fled but we did not have... children. You understand, they spawned fully-formed, as Khavur has. But I did not kill the newly-hatched, simply because I was not there for that, Overseer." Vargas eyed Orthoclase-Alpha, thoughtful. "I did not create and perhaps that is the distinction? These are my creations--and yours--and I prefer to salvage them if I can. Perhaps it is that I do not wish failure. Or perhaps I do view them with somewhat more softness than I should; again, a liability that might be used against us." Vargas leaned back, some, considering again. "I have never believed in killing the unhatched--the newly-hatched--before they have a chance to prove themselves. And with these," he added, nodding back to Draco in general, "we will be training them to give them that chance. I do not see them as prey," and here he shrugged. "It is difficult to do so. Though I do miss the hunt," he added, almost wistfully.

Here he fell silent--answer honestly given, if not, perhaps, the heart-to-heart it could've been; and waited for the rest of what Orthoclase would have to say.

"Good! Then we will start with that," Vargas boomed, seemingly oblivious to Orthoclase-Alpha's inner turmoil.

He wasn't, though. He was finding it ironic that Orthoclase's apparent concerns about perfectly presenting itself and its answers were, in fact, its most damaging trait. Of course, he had no idea of knowing what exactly it was worried about and his guess was just that--a blind assumption. But it had never been one for hiding body language, and its pacing, the movement of its quills, the eye contact or lack thereof--what could be seen without pupils, at least--tended to reveal when it was... unfocused.

Never mind it now.
"Part of your job will be finding out what they desire. Making them desire what you have to offer. We make names something rare--we must earn them!--and so that bears value. Anything not freely available--anything withdrawn from us--we yearn for more, as a rule. Take it away to punish them. A name cannot be so easily taken, perhaps, but hunting and roaming rights can. I think a week not allowed to leave Draco would irritate any of us," he added, with dour amusement. "Physical punishment is an option though do not overuse it. In some cases--V-Chaos-One, for example--you may not find anything else that works. That one gives me trouble," he added, musingly. "But in my era, we had no freedom to do as we pleased, to roam or to explore. These have that by default, once they are of age, so it is hardly something to strive for. Likewise the right to reproduce." A pause, as he considered. "You may need to find their individual desires to look for rewards; and some, like Garnet-Delta, are dutiful enough, responsible enough, that good service and praise alone is a powerful reward. Those are to be valued," he added.

Orthoclase had been like that, once. The thought was... disappointing.

Vargas paused, now, to see what it would have to say; its reticence had made a comeback, but perhaps by brushing over whatever it was overthinking (and refusing to share) now, it would refocus on the new topic... and speak.

Perhaps not; he was still feeling out its personality in that regard.

Vargas stared, and then exhaled softly. He gestured to Orthoclase-Alpha.

"I want you to find them, and prepare their training. Return to me with any questions, or if you have any troubles whatsoever. See that V-Chaos-Two gets the training that it needs; get Chaos-One under control if you can. Ruby-Beta will need sparring practice again. Garnet-Delta will be beneath your command--but do not abuse that power; it is skilled and talented and I will grant it a new rank or title of its own. Should we gain enough creatures to work with, perhaps it will be Overseer of the assassins and you, of the fighters. And one other thing, Orthoclase-Alpha."

Vargas paused, eyeing it.

"Has anyone spoken to you of fission-?"

Was it capable of such a thing-? He didn't think so; but it didn't hurt to ask.

"It is the ability to split yourself-? Have you heard of it? It was expected of beasts in our day. Some may be taken for Lord Dhracia's plans directly; others will be expected to split themselves, their feral halves taken for conquest and for chaos. But this happens after training, after testing... I fear we may not have as much time for that as I'd wish. And as Overseer you will need to know of these things."

Vargas didn't miss the swell and fall of quills, nor the begrudging tone--was Orthoclase-Alpha jealous..? (He knew nothing of their unintended battle, however brief it had been.) But it gave credit where credit was due, and if Alpha was angry at Delta, that only made such praise from it all the higher. "Good. I value your opinions on all of them," and his tone, at least, was sincere.

"We will need to find a way to teach them to fission. Train Chaos-One hard. We will start with him, I think," Vargas added, thoughtfully. "Is there anything else that you can think of, Overseer? -And I wonder; would you still like time to find your own name, or ought we to ask the Creator to grant you one? I doubt that He would speak, but it is a possibility. That is an offer, not a threat," he added; "if you wish to find your own, take your time."

Vargas thought about this, for a time. How best to explain it-?

"Do you recall how it feels to impart your magic to a near-dead stone, to return it to life-? It is-... like that, but... inside-out," he began, and boy was that a bizarre start to a description. "You must grasp your own magicka, within your stone, and force it from you in two directions. Force it through your flesh, to take new form. It is agonizing, at first, but that changes." A grimace. The screams were... haunting, really, though the results could be impressive. "The new creature may be controlled, or again it may not but they are never intelligent, and incapable of magic. Brutes. Weapons, to point at our enemies. A simulacrum, I think, of a true living being: an echo."

Feral copies were generally just that: feral, and violently so.

"Do not worry about it overmuch, for now. Nor the name. Go, and come back to me when you have need," Vargas ended, at last.

The Overseer, it seemed, was dismissed.