- THE LEVIATHAN -
He gave a faint nod to the questioning 'Outside?' and would have answered, had Agate not stood and begun to speak. To explain herself, even, and this was a mighty big step for her.
As was his wont, when she spoke to him reasonably, he offered nothing less in return: both his attention, and a serious reply. "Call me only Vargas, or Master. There is a reason for this but I do not think you will understand it until you are older. I do not know much of grapes, but perhaps you can show me them the next time Chaos Two brings them." For now, without being deliberately condescending, he truly believed that long explanations of social respect and hierarchal standings, the effects of nicknames and familiarity on that, and so on, would be beyond her. "Remember that we are not friends. I am a Master, your creator, and we are not equals." This was said not cruelly in the slightest, despite how the words themselves might have seemed: he spoke patiently, almost apologetically. "I will explain the why when you are older. This does not mean we cannot get along. Yourself and Chaos-Two may call one another what you please, so long as it accepts this. But your explanation is acceptable, and it is a good step--it shows promise--that you think to explain your actions so that they are not misinterpreted. As for what I said, yes, I meant it. I give credit where it is due, and punishment where it is required. It will be harsh. It will also be fair."
Except with Orthoclase-Alpha, who did nothing wrong-
Vargas tightened his massive jaw, briefly, pushing that melancholy thought away.
"Do what you must with your face. We will wait." For a moment he reached out--with magic, but not gesture--to see if he could turn back the blood from the swelling. But such magics were powerful and very rarely did they come to him; indeed he felt the familiar agonizing cramp rippling through his own limbs, and he sat quickly on his own hind legs to quash the sense of clenching pain. Not AGAIN. Irritation flickered through him, though he showed nothing of it. He also did not... say why he'd suddenly crushed down upon his own haunches.
Damn it.
Vargas gathered himself, and waited to see if the Agate would say anything more, then turned to face back toward Vjira. She had come to stand beside him, without him realizing it; he offered her a nod. He focused, for a moment, past the twitching pain that pulsed through his calves, and across his ribs, and one forearm--his own blood rushing the wrong way, starving and cramping muscles. It would pass, but it was always terrible while it lasted. "We will wait for Agate, yes? And then we will go hunt, and eat. We will teach you to find food." Again, he patted his own abdomen briefly. It seemed this one would take time to learn language--if she did at all--but so far, she seemed agreeable enough and seemed, too, to understand gestures and intent.
Once more he tried to explain their names. "Master Vargas; Vjira; Agate." Each of these were accompanied by a hand's gesture to the correct target. "And together, we will hunt. Yes?" Patient, despite his size, violence, bearing; he was patient, and he studied her for any signs of recognition whatsoever.