They had to go to Pegasus.
Not to start a fire yet or anything. Just...to go there. But while walking through the tunnels, something felt off. It felt too warm.
And as Mayfal got closer, it got uncomfortable this warmth. Then it became hot. Then they recognized the feeling. The feeling of magic and its effect on the caves.
Something hit Mayfal. Not physically. The only thing that was physically effecting them was the smell of smoke and the sounds of panic. But Mayfal's thoughts had gotten whiplash.
There was a fire in Pegasus. And it was going the way Mayfal feared it might. But...it wasn't their fire. In fact, Mayfal had no clue how this fire had started.
One is not supposed to smile at a fire such as this one. But, just for a second, Mayfal smiled because of this fire. This blessing of a fire that was cursing Pegasus. And they could hear Comet in the fire.
Comet...in the fire.
What was there to do? Mayfal could only start fires. They had no clue of how to stop them. Comet always stopped them. Comet would be...fine. She'd be fine. And James would probably be fine, too. And the children were in Eridanus. Safe Eridanus. Where there was no fire.
But there was a fire in Pegasus now. The brush and the leaves were cleared away, now, in Pegasus.
Mayfal knew what to do. They turned around and walked away.
~Exit Mayfal~
The monstrous fool bit back, rebukes sniping through the air. If the Guardian had any semblance of a face, it would've fallen more and more with each passing word. She was hopeless. Lighting broke for him, and he braced to receive it—"wait—!" Azigh took a halting half-step forward to guard the stallion that'd fallen in front of him. A gale was conjured at will, but it was not swift enough.
It was merely fortunate that James had rallied his might before impact. Azigh sent an appreciative nod down to him, voice thrumming softly, "thank you. Go now, when you can." Then, he threw a thousand-eyed glance to Comet, "no. This is not your battle. Get somewhere safe, while you can." Flanks heaved with a short sigh, and he drew himself up to be eye-level with the Valkhound.
At last, he answered: "Azigh, assigned Guardian of Pegasus, this room, which you so desire to destroy—with your only excuse being, for what, Chaos?" A sneer, like an adult might use with a child who thinks it knows all things, who think it is right; and worse, the teenager that thinks it is an adult because it has reached a certain age, or a certain size, or has certain legal rights. For Draconua, it was like she took Chaos as an excuse to whet her appetite for being an asshole, to shit where she ate.
"The Creator does not do this. He does not burn worlds and destroy aimlessly. Do you have no purpose, Valkhound? Do you really think you live such a free and worthless life?" Each of his hands balled into fists. "Your purpose is greater than this. Do not find yourself so low that you must destroy all things in your path," he growled, the sound rumbling throughout Pegasus, like peals of thunder. "It is not that you should be cowed; it is that you are embarrassing yourself and the reason for your Creation." Disappointment was thick in his echoing voice. Was she not Ancient? Could she not feel that this was a laughable use of her time?
Draconua's final challenging roar went unanswered.
Wind swirled around himself, still.
Knuckles grew gold as those hands clutched at the lantern's pole.
Azigh waited, unheeding of the fox-dragon goading from above.
Vander readjusted in his soaring once more as he stared down, growing silent as the two argued. He still wasn't moving, and wasn't acting for or against either side, not yet. Careful eyes watched on while Azigh steeled himself.
He winced at the volumes they both delivered.
Purpose. He'd had enough of hearing about purpose. His purpose was left in ruin and laid to waste a long time ago, when these Gembound showed up. Cooling down his emotions, Vander repressed a snarl as his muscles tensed. To hell with purpose. Even if the Champion wanted one oh-so desperately, who the hell would give him one? He had to make his own.
Pointed claws dug into his palms as he raised his voice again, crying into the wind. "We HAVE no purpose. Not anymore, not now, not yet!" Venom stung in his voice as he circled back around, eyeing Azigh. "Are we to waste away until we're given one? Waste our bodies, ruin ourselves?" He hissed, tail whipping as much as it could in flight.
Blue eyes flicked to Draconua, considering. She'd given herself purpose, but, like a child, misinterpreted it as righteousness. He grumbled from his throat before turning his attention to her. "Chaos needs direction! You need to figure out what the hell you can and can't destroy, and destroy the shit you can!" One claw uselessly gestured to the cave. "It'd be best not to destroy the caves as a whole, or this whole nest will go under, you included! Do you want us all to be destroyed? Do you want to ruin this nest's purpose?" Whatever its full purpose was.
He hesitated, for a moment, planning out his next words. He didn't know her, but if they were to be some army for chaos, fight battles, then- "Your purpose is to destroy enemies. Not THIS!"
Vander didn't even know her. Why did he give a shit about her?
And why was he starting to see himself in her?
They were both taking purpose by the reigns and demanding it into their own regimens, although one interpretation of their's was a bit more counterproductive than the other. Though, perhaps they weren't so different after all.
He wasn't sure if that settled right in his gut.
Comet did not notice the sudden appearance and departure of Mayfal, she was too focused on the welfare of Pegasus. She ignored Azigh telling her to leave. Pegasus was her home, and James could possibly be in danger! For as long as this was happening, she would stay and fight. The two large creatures were now yelling things at each other, although she did not turn an ear to listen. James's spell seemed to fail, which was quite unfortunate.
Comet pushed her magic into trying to cast her own spell to create a shield for Azigh. Unfortunately, it backfired when needed most. All the energy from the shield was blown back at her, and she was slammed at a tree. Her head hit the sturdy tree hard. Stars exploded in her head, and the pain was worse than any headache she had experienced before. Comet slumped onto the ground, wishing she could faint if only to just stop the pain.
The stallion lingered a moment, before heaving himself into the air. Azigh did not nod in understanding, but he did spare time to answer, "keep watch, then. I will protect what I can, and take care of this." A sigh shuddered out of his torso. "I do not wish to see you or any of yours injured." Truly, they were selfless; his wards would have no trouble permitting them entry to his little oasis, not too far from here.
His gaze set back on the Valkhound, then, to watch as she simmered in his words, as she started to peel herself apart over it. Surely, there was the compulsion to take to one's knee, but there was the compulsion to release the Chaos practically dripping from her pores. Azigh guarded himself, the dark presence before him just barely halted by the wind. Tension mounted in the clutching of fingers; every proclamation another slap to the face.
Vander's voice, coming from blessedly high above, stuck without acknowledgement (at first.)
In some parts, he was right. In others, not so much.
"What would I do otherwise?" had been Draconua's preface, and "What do I do as one of His, with DESTRUCTION as a PURPOSE?!" had been her punctuation. Time ground to a halt after that, and the Guardian took note of many things: the thumping backfire of some sort of spell; Comet's flying backwards; an impending blast of entropic fire.
Azigh lurched to the side, arms sprawling wide. The accursed flames were impeded by his barrier, at first—when it failed, his body took the blow. Motes of fire blew past his upper torso, barely clinging to the living wood behind him. Not a bit of it would land on the wolf behind him.
Smoldering as he was, forearms taut with that painful tension, the Guardian stood strong. His arms waved, and he clenched all his fists in unison. Wings beat once against the air, and a crushing wind fell back onto Draconua. Azigh spoke immediately, and it was not without deadly warning: "stop this, and listen." One thousand voices taking on a thunderous volume, he padded forwards, sneering back down at the collapsing Valkhound, "I do not know who has created you, or who it is that you answer to, Valkhound, but if it is purpose that you lack..." If he'd had eyes, he might've glanced up to Vander, knowingly. "You will not find it in levelling all that you see. These Caves are not the enemies you were made to destroy."
Unless… Azigh flared his wings, no.
There was a hard bite in his question: "which Master do you serve?"
His loose hold was fleeting—just long enough for the moronic beast to answer.
Impact brought instant gratification, and a manic ferocity overwhelmed her sense of the conversation. Soot and black-tinged cinders danced innocently in the wake of her violence. As it'd petered out, Draconua made to press her advantage—to perhaps peer past the guardian for the furry lump behind him, see how terrified it was—and she caught him.
Azigh, straightening; the shimmer of gold-lined feathers in the air; arms swaying in a mesmerizing rhythm.
Suddenly, the hound was buckling beneath an extra atmosphere or two, once again. Her limbs practically crumpled from under her. The hook of her chin caught on a smoldering root, the entropic fire making its way back to its source. Its chaotic influence only marred her skin further, and she wasted her last bit of good air on a low hiss.
Faced with a dilemma (listen or continue to fight in this vicious, unsuccessful cycle) the Sleepless Chaos fell silent. Inky-black eyes watched from their Oilstained sockets, the pinholes practically clogged with the raw substance. They glared upwards while Azigh approached, narrowed to slits when he spoke a thousand times over.
If they were speaking of purpose...
Given that inch of (literal) breathing room, Draconua shoved for her feet, rasping and wheezing out, "let go." Black winds clawed at the pressure, peeling away at it. Her gaze burning a hole through the guardian, she wrestled up to her feet—staggered a fair bit—and shambled a foot or so back when Azigh (should be) tensed for another attack.
"Vargas, the Leviathan," she hissed, practically coiling into herself. A phantom grip bore down on a wing, clamping it fast to her heaving, sweaty flank. "I am here of my own free will, and not any order of his."
Her faceplate tilted downwards, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot—a distant sign of wariness. Claws flexed into the soil, sorely tempted to continue ripping and tearing and ruining. Draconua stayed her own hand, surprisingly. "The Creator may not destroy aimlessly; all of you may have been left purposeless, but I know—I know—that ruin is what I am meant for."
So, she asked again, wrenching her wing from her own grip and posturing defensively, "where else would you have me spread His power, Guardian?" Her lip quivered between a grin and a grimace. "What corner of these caves has been missing His touch?"