ORIGIN - and one without

ENTER RAFFLE HERE: VJIRA, THE MIRAGE

This thread is backdated to October 29th.

He hovered at the edge of Tunnel G and stiffened. With Pegasus behind him—and idyllic paradise compared to the rest of the caves—the only thing left was the Door. Astraea had not passed through the Door by himself in... His head tilted. Had he ever passed through it without Tenzin by his side?

The deer cast a forlorn look over his shoulder. It was still strange, still raw, still new to reach at the edges of his mind and feel only emptiness. For eons, Tenzin had been there. Whatever he needed—a simple question or a task, a simple chat, anything—the voice of his partner was never far. The presence. A chill shuddered across his chest and he exhaled shakily. He found himself reaching often only to find himself alone. It was strange to think of what he had, and how comfortable it had been; he realized now, of course, what kind of impact it had on him, how much its weight kept him grounded. And now it was gone.

Astraea turned into the tunnel with hardened eyes. He could do it by himself. He would.

The Door rose above him, heralding the Womb, and he stepped through it with a short inhale. The small breath caught in his lungs as he passed through. Once on the other side, the colors dripping in Voidlight, he exhaled and paused. The Door of Life. He was going onward without Tenzin for the first time, and there had been a lot of first times recently. Specifically, first times without Tenzin.

He continued through the Aperture, careful of its breathing walls, and looked upon Draco wholly: it was rife with life again. Vargas had set up his group here, but Astraea had not visited them yet. Mostly because he was loathe to do it alone, and to accept he may never enter Draco with Tenzin again.

His ruby eyes scanned for Vargas; he had used the Spire, yes? It was working? Astraea had not produced something as an Architect in some time, and he was itching to flex his Creative muscle.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The power that was Astraea didn't go unnoticed. Perhaps it was the shift in the ebb and flow of the Black Spire's magic, but Vargas thought he sensed the other Master's arrival.

The stag (and wasn't that strange?) had not yet visited their workspace, and Vargas had been doing his best to get his spawn and allies settled. To progress in the hunt for Mother, the spawning of new servants for his Creator (and, just as importantly, for Lord Dhracia in particular), the training of those he already had. He had been working, too, at identifying those remnants left behind that could still be returned to the state of their original designs. To this end he had some half a dozen Oilstone shards that still sparked with dimmest magic, laid out alongside what remained of their bones, for easy reference: what had been recovered from the chrysalises shattered by another Master's treacherous hand.

Was Astraea here to check up on all of that-?

Vargas doubted very much, at least, that this would be a social visit. But he was never impolite, exactly, and in his straightforward, businesslike fashion, he approached with his lanky strides: swift, to the point (Astraea, in this case), smooth.

"Master Astraea," he greeted, his voice a keening bass that rumbled in resonance with this voidlit place; and he'd decided he ought to still call Astraea 'Master,' for had the now-stag not called him Master Vargas, in turn-?

And--now what? 'To what do I owe the honor' was stiff, of course, and assumed Astraea was here for him. For them. 'What can we do for you' implied continued servitude, and he did not know where their relationship stood, in terms of authority, and he wasn't about to be the first to offer himself up as still low-ranking beneath the other Master.

Hm.

"All is well?" he settled on, coming to a halt, not quite deference but respect in his still-looming form as he peered down. If everything was not well, he was sure the fungal Master would inform him. And if it was-? Well, he'd find out soon enough.

Vargas was, as expected, in the immediate vicinity of the Spire. Astraea had stopped where he was, letting Vargas come to him, and nodded at the other's approach—an ear twitched at the question, and he smirked at the tense suggestion lying underneath.

"Master Vargas... indeed," he answered easily, the response terse, sparing no moment to dance with the sparks. "You have rediscovered the Womb. It brings me great pride and joy to see it bustling with life again." His eyes swept to take in the room, settling on the Spire at its heart. "Have you used the Spire to create anything yet?" he asked, and purely out of curiosity. There was a lightness in his voice that was almost giddy. Speaking about Creating, swathed in voidlight, breathing the humid air of the Room that Lives... it was almost enough to make him forget the other half of him that was missing in this scene.

Astraea's ruby eyes shifted back to Vargas.

"It has been... too long, for me. I would like to try my hand at it again, if I may," he said gently, gauging Vargas for his response, whether spoken or not. The distant sound of groaning, churning crystal rumbled around them as the Spire continuously shifted shape. It was a much more fitting locale for Vargas, or so Astraea thought.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas offered a soft grunt in response to the other Master's question. Like it or not, the Leviathan was guarded: unsure about Astraea's true intentions (now, or ever); about their power dynamic; about his trustworthiness. Sometimes, Astraea seemed to show great loyalty to the nest. Other times... he was. Fickle, yes.

Still, Vargas was direct, at heart--to business, to getting things done, and he answered calmly enough. Despite the lingering tension that he felt, or more accurately, the wariness, his demeanor was genuinely smooth; wariness did not take precedence over duty. "I have not--not beyond reviving stones. Lord Dhracia has a... commission that she has directed me toward." He paused, rigid face briefly pulling into what best resembled a frown--but couldn't quite manage to get there. "I am unsure how much I can create without damaging myself, if that is even possible. I do have ideas," he added, a caveat, said with a colleague's shared interest.

At Astraea's request, Vargas would have perked a bunch of brows--if he could. He gestured with one six-thumbed hand, a nod, as if to say "by all means."

"Of course. I look forward to seeing your work."

And that, too, was honest. Not only to see what Astraea would make--but what Astraea would make alone.

An interesting thought, and Vargas stepped back even further to give him room, and to observe.

@Game Master CJ

At the other Master's answer, Astraea cocked his head slightly; he was intrigued at the mention of Lord Dhracia, noticing the taught but subtle pull of the other's lips, but he figured perhaps it was best not to be of interest to him. The less he had to deal with her, the better.

At the upturned palm, Astraea turned toward the Spire but kept his eyes on Vargas.

"You have much more magic than you used to, and you should be able to create quite a bit before damaging yourself. That was our purpose—as Masters—for a time, anyway," he said, gesturing toward the moving heart of the womb. "Would you like to test it out with me? It has... been a while, but I would be glad to help familiarize you with the process and with creation, especially if Lord Dhracia has requested you for Architectural work."

A shiver crawled down his spine. It was not that he was without punishment for the dormancy of the nest—Tenzin suffered it enough for both of them—but maybe introducing Vargas to the power of the Spire would be some small ounce of good grace for her holographic eyes of liquid mercury. Even without her Presence in the nest, he could feel that cold, biting stare burning holes into his skin.

At the same time those thoughts picked at his mind, guilt started to churn in his stomach. Was it wrong for him to Create at the Spire without Tenzin? To offer Tenzin's position to someone else, a new Master at that? His own lips tightened into a semi-frown, but he tried not to dwell on it. No matter. He'd have to get used to the emptiness in his tasks. Maybe it would be better to step into the change with someone else as a start.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

'You should be able to create quite a bit before damaging yourself.' That was pleasing to hear. A relief, even. Vargas rolled his shoulders, glancing at the Black Spire and imagining his new creations. He'd been aching to try it all out. Though he had not, perhaps, been initially made as a creator, his reformation had awakened new creativity in him. A desire for winged monsters flowing from him, clots of violence with claws and rows of teeth and rows, too, of pitted eyes in slick black hide--yes, he had ideas. A vague imagining of himself as the source of an onstoppable flow of fantastic monsters had clung to him, and he had only held back out of fear of ruining himself for the task. Of dampening his power, before he had his hold secured, his workplace under lock and key--and claw.

At Astraea's question--'Would you like to test it out with me?'--Vargas had to restrain his enthusiasm. The idea of learning--as Astraea put it--the process, and creation itself, from such an ancient and experienced Master was a good one. And only the faintest idea that it might be some sort of trick was dismissed.

Vargas was unaware of any reluctance on Astraea's part--of his dwelling on old and dormant (or dead? had the ice truly solidified, yet?) relationships, working or otherwise. He only gazed at the slick and oily shifting black as he replied: "I would be honored for you to show me! I imagine it would be likely a better result than simply..." Vargas's rigid lips tried, and failed, to twist into a grin, as he gestured with one hand; "...winging it." It wasn't any sort of deliberate reference to a thought process he wasn't privy to and anyway, unlikely to even really seem so. Vargas was only imagining the result of a guided, powerful process rather than the guesswork he'd initiated in his half-assed creation of Khavur.

Look how that had turned out. Well--not terrible, perhaps, but-... not fantastic, either.

"So what did you have in mind?" Vargas asked, stepping toward the dark stone, looking to Astraea for guidance.

@Game Master CJ