ORIGIN

Vargas' turn, his bellow, was directed back toward the black and oily Spire. He was ever aware of its heat, of its shifting nature and something about it still unsettled him. Not... in a way that made him nervous; but in a way where he felt that he could never rest.

Not that he required sleep, of course.

"Garnet-Delta!" he called, and it was yet another name in the rote. Now that they had time, and space, he was speaking to each of them and doling out responsibilities and further training one by one--and he had high hopes, for this one.

High hopes--and plans.

He waited, there, briefly eyeing over the tracery of lightning-like burns that Draconua had left him with, pondering their futures.

Vargas turned toward the sound of gliding wings, as pleased to see Garnet-Delta as he was the best of his own spawn. This one had, thus far, delighted him: exceeded expectations in both its attitude (outstripping even Hemlocke's responsible perfectionism and Palefur's ambition) and aptitude (showing both skill and resourceful thinking). It had done nothing wrong, and everything right; and that was something Vargas truly enjoyed seeing.

So his nod to this one was deeper than with some, a little more casual, a little more respectful. "Good! There you are," he declared, entirely unnecessarily. "Now that we are here, and have time to organize and arrange ourselves, I am doing just that. We are sorting out roles for the members of this Chaos Forge, and responsibilities. So tell me, first of all; since last we met, how has your training gone? What have you been doing; what more have you learned?" A pause, and then a rare, preemptive forgiveness, just in case: "I do not expect it to be much, as busy as we have been--and as much as you were needed to patrol Tunnel P whilst the children grew. But this is where I will begin," he explained, and his tone was almost easygoing.

A pause, and then, with a curious eye, the Master asked another question--this one the same he'd asked his Overseer, and he asked it now on impulse. "Tell me, too: what do you think of this cave?"

Vargas mostly listened, only interjecting here and there as he deemed it necessary. "Wise," was one such interjection, at the mention that Garnet-Delta wasn't yet comfortable moving past the initial training. "Learn thoroughly; rushing will only lead to failure." It was approval, not advice, in his tone.

He mulled over the idea that Draco 'set them all on edge.' It was something he hadn't noticed, but then, he had hated the tunnel anyway: no place to stalk or hide, just a narrow, uncomfortably hot, bright place. No real foliage. No water. Not a good place, by any means. Perhaps it was because it was the only home they had known-? "At least they will have access to Pegasus," he responded, a thoughtful murmur. "But you make a good point in that the nature of this place will keep those not of His design at bay, I think. Perhaps that is why you are not comfortable here. As for the stones, I have already been categorizing them. Do not touch them," he added, in warning, "but part of my work here has been to check which are still viable, and lay them among the bones to which they belonged. It will give us some idea of what they are best used for." Yes, he and Totum could create new creatures, but Vargas already had a swathe of monsters--like Zoisite, Orthoclase, and Chaos-One--to use in the formation of a new generation. Assuming they weren't all too... new-generation on their own, too uncomfortable around Chaos, too used to the caves' new magics, it would be faster and easier to pair them off with the bones of appropriate designs.

"On to your tasks, then. Obviously, your primary goal is to continue training and to tackle the tasks I have given you--if even the dragons still remain where they were. But you will also be in charge of our wing, should you accept this, of spies and assassins. Your skill, intelligence, resourcefulness and your sense of responsibility--your ambition, without greed--are unmatched among any of the spawn, here. And so, this is what I propose to you."

Vargas rocked back, sitting on his haunches, and took a breath to speak.

"For you to oversee the wing of spies, scouts and assassins of the Chaos Forge. To seek out appropriate designs for use in training or further creation. Cats seem useful; the more winged cats we can find the better, I think, but that will be your decision. You are also to hold training--joint or separate, as you see best--with Ruby-Beta and with V-Chaos-Two. Ruby-Beta and yourself are to share what you have learned; teach it what I have taught you thus far, as well. With V-Chaos-Two, it will be in charge of teaching new spawn the basics of all our learning, and so you will teach it what it will need to know to grant a foundation to them. You will also be in charge of arranging such things among the young. Ruby-Beta turned down the role of training the young to hunt; you would be free to take them out if you so chose, and train them yourself."

Vargas paused, eyeing Delta.

"Should you accept, you may choose a title appropriate to your station. Any title you wish. And once your training is complete, you might choose a name, as well," he added. "You would be free to guide and direct the spy wing, its training, its reproduction, entirely; and come to me with questions, or requests for new designs. Your thoughts-?"

That last implication, he didn't elaborate on--but it lay there, an offer that glistened black. If Garnet-Delta wished it, Vargas could create for it anything it wanted: a servant, a bodyguard, another spy to work with. That was within his powers: and now it was offered to Delta, as well.

The gasp took him by surprise, and he watched, nonplussed, without real reaction. It was more a sort of mental note, a Huh, unthought in real words, tucked away for later (brief) pondering.

And then it accepted his proposal.

"Good," he began, his voice briefly booming, before settling back into his typical loud-but-businesslike speaking tone. "It pleases me to know that this is in good hands. A lesson for you, for free;" he added, and there was amusement in his tone, almost as if speaking to an equal; "delegation is half of leadership. It is a weight off my mind to have you performing this service. And a Master is only as good as his Overseers; and indeed an Overseer must have their workers, too." A nod, then, of acknowledgment for the Garnet's other request. "Overseer Garnet-Delta." The form of address--the first of its kind--was loud enough, and then Vargas tilted his head a little, as if tasting it, gauging it. "We will get you an apprentice and once it has also proven itself, perhaps you can choose a name to go with that title--something more suited, something personal. In the meantime, you have options."

The Leviathan turned, gesturing off at the black stones, the very ones Delta had indicated. He was going through the possibilities in his mind--not judging Garnet, at the moment, no longer examining the minutiae of its body language, no; now he was thinking over apprentices, of all the options now available to them regarding the formation of life.

"I can create for you a custom creature if you prefer it, one from these stones, and to your design. Or I will give you leave to find a suitable partner to create one yourself, of your choice. If you wish to wait for me to find a stone for you to use, we might try it; but this place was not one of small spies. It was a place of behemoths and armies. And if even I found such a stone, we might not find a spark of life yet remaining in it to be ignited. But the choice is yours." He looked back to it, unblinking. "I can make you a being; you can form one yourself, or you can wait. Mind you, the entirety of the Forge--all of those you choose to create--will be your apprentices, in a sense. But if you mean that you want one wholly under your control, your authority; that, we can do. Explain, then; what is it exactly that you want, and how would you like to tackle it? ...Overseer?"

Vargas was making mental notes, now, too: he'd need to tell Orthoclase-Alpha that Delta was now its fellow Overseer. Two was good, a solid number: he'd have an Overseer of physical combat, and another of stealth. And that, for now, was all that he needed; these were the only positions that he intended to fill. While the Orthoclase was to handle most of his duties when he was away--security, primarily--the training of hunters was an important task, as well.

He imagined that Lord Dhracia, in particular, would find it simply imperative.

It began with what might have sounded, to another, like platitudes. But Vargas was fairly certain that Delta meant every word--and that was what garnered Garnet-Delta respect from the Leviathan. Real respect, not simply the approval of an Overseer or even a Master. He respected its dedication, its precision, its efficiency and calculation. But most of all the dedication--the loyalty, the sense of responsibility and direction. It was a defining characteristic, one he valued highly and one, unfortunately, that his other Overseer lacked in astonishing entirety. ...'To make itself a copy of myself, or better,' it was saying, and Vargas' chin raised a noticeable amount, then dipped, in a nod of obvious approval. "To desire to improve upon the next cycle with pride in your work, and not resentment in possibly being surpassed, is a strength," he offered, a brief notation inserted into its speech.

'I started with doubts. Doubts of my worth, of my potential. You have built up my courage, guided me.' Vargas took note of this, considering. Perhaps its insecurity, if it had had any, had been a force in driving it to prove itself? He didn't know for sure, but he'd always been fairly certain of this one's potential, at least. Was that important? -Encouragement? I will remember that, he thought. He'd always Overseen, but never been in charge of the others' training. Only culled the weak, spared with them, taught them what he was told to, took note of the strengths of the survivors, and reported to his Masters. Motivation had come into play but not as often as it did now, and usually in the form of him stalking behind a group, motivating them to push on or to be eaten. And as for 'I would not want to force something into misery,' Vargas gave a little snort and a nod. "In my era," he remarked, "we were created with a purpose not only as our task, but as our drive. We usually desired to do our work, and to lack that desire was a fault, if an unusual one. Orthoclase-Alpha is proof of the new generation's differences. If your 'apprentice' does not like its work, its fate will be in your hands--to release as you see fit, if you wish it, and to try again. And I will not judge you on your work; this... section, of the Forge, will be wholly your domain. I will not intrude on it. You recall that I asked Lord Dhracia to leave the Forge to purely my authority, and for the rest of you to never be punished for my transgressions?" This was said factually, not with any of the martyr's whine; he was getting to a point. "So it will be for the assassins, or whatever you choose to name them. I will not decide their fates or punish them--that will be your responsibility and your privilege, unless you ask me to do so at some point." That had to be clear, and out of the way, in his mind. He wanted Garnet-Delta focused on its task, not eventually fretting over Vargas perhaps harming one of its subjects.

Though, he was not sure that it would care. He did not attribute it the same weaknesses that the "Gembound" held--but then, was that not a weakness of his own..? He had held the same... not fears, no. Not fears. Concerns. Yes, and did that count as a weakness, to ask that of his Lord-?

...Surely not. I will need to consider this. ...Later. It was a worrying possibility, and had the ex-Overseer briefly distracted.

He turned his mind back to Delta as quickly as he could, trying to focus on its words. To its long verbal consideration of possibilities. '... I may consider removing the partner I choose from the equation before the child is born.' Vargas' rigid brow would have perked over all three eyes, if it could have. "I would not recommend killing its parent," he interjected, somewhat surprised at such a thought. "-Do you mean that the pressure of a dead one spurred you to prove yourself? Or was it something else? Was that the case with Orthoclase-Alpha?" he asked, abruptly, surprised at the thought. The old Orthoclase had proved herself. Vargas had even told Alpha not to concern itself with such an idea, given that the Trial of Darkness had been little more than a feeding for a weapon held by this nest. "Regardless, the child may grow resentful and you might lose its loyalty, should it ever uncover that fact, assuming that you hide it. And if the design proves worthwhile it may be something you wish to reuse. I am uncertain about my ability to completely replicate designs, as yet," he added, in warning. Plus, what the hell? Even Vargas was surprised at the ruthlessness. But... he'd hardly been raised in a culture that gave him the background to morally protest. He couldn't even, on reflection, quite figure out why the idea of "murdering the other parent of my child" bothered him.

He hesitated, briefly, then settled on: "I do not want the Forge to get into the habit of killing the worthy." Faint memories of glory, triumph; of courage, flowed through his mind. That was the other side of the "culling, murder" coin: the blazing-eyed cheers of the survivors. The roars of the victors, scar-knotted and proud. The clang of weapon on armor or shield as they screamed their triumph to the hidden stars.

How glorious it had been. This... murder in the dark; that wasn't the right fate for a thing worthy of survival. Dying to an assassin might, to some, have rendered a thing not "worth" living; but Vargas knew that no creature was truly immune to such a tactic. A good assassin with time to plan could kill anyone, or anything--it was just that the caves' purpose was a little more... general than that. Armies, instead of spies. Brute force, over black cunning.

But there was no harm, the Leviathan thought, in practicing both.

"Take your time, then, in deciding. Come to me with any concerns that you might have, any advice, or simply to talk. We will be, in a sense, comrades from here on out--colleagues in our work. Cooperation and communication will be key and I want there to be no confusion between us. If you wish to train, pass thoughts by me or ask for aid you may interrupt me at any task. Do you have questions, for now, or anything else to discuss?" he asked, eyeing the Garnet with a businesslike eye.

...Eyes.