James didn't expect to be here again so soon. Or at all, really. Draco wasn't a place he ever wished to frequent, with it's dark, dank interior and the void light that made bright colors stand out and dark colors blend in. It was creepy, to be frank.
But here he was, a valkhound in tow (or at least he suspected Aethereal was one, if he was to compare her with Isra), off to meet Master Vargas, Tahi's 'boss'. Without Tahi.
Oh how he hated the way this place breathed, as if he'd walked into the maw of some great monster. But anxieties could come later, for right now, he just needed to deal with the matter at hand.
Very urgently.
James turned to face Aethereal,
It took him a moment, even after he'd turned to the call, even after he'd started that way, to figure out who "Tahi" was. He'd only ever heard him as Tahi-shei; it was perhaps a reflection of how little these creatures meant to Vargas that he didn't immediately put the half-name together with the face. And "partner?" "James?" The Master's frame of reference was most certainly not the romantic; even the pairing of Astraea and Tenzin had seemed, to him, primarily to be work. So when he came striding into view, he was expecting that this "James" must be Tahi-shei's work colleague.
He peered at him, as he approached, wondering if the deer had run into some sort of danger--ahh, and what was this? The winged horse was one thing--Vargas had seen him before, and now he could put face to name. He'd been one of those at the raid, too; but this creature?
It was, Vargas thought, missing a head. Or was that a clever misdirection by whoever had created it? It certainly looked created, and not like one of the malformed random beasts of the newer generations, particularly given the magic oozing from its pores.
Disgusting.
Aethereal had no idea why anyone sane would choose to live here. The ground beneath her paws was - ugh - WARM, and MOIST, and SHE DID NOT LIKE IT. Her mouth twitched with revulsion with every new step she took, and she was glad when they finally stopped to call for Vargas. If there were no new touches and her feet stayed on the floor, maybe she could just - pretend there was nothing wrong with it -
Didn't work. WHY WERE THE CRYSTALS GROANING AND MOVING EVEN WHEN THEY'D ALREADY STOPPED WALKING?!
It was too warm for her taste here, and too humid. Aethereal missed the snow, though she supposed not everyone liked it as much as she did. Still, Pegasus hadn't been this bad. Why Draco? If she was a powerful Master-of-whatever-Vargas-was-master-of, she'd definitely choose Pegasus over Draco as her lair. Or maybe it was intentional, and this was the effect he was going for.
James tried to reassure her, but he didn't sound very confident, either. Still, the horse had dealt with this Vargas before, so Aethereal let him take the lead. In any case, she didn't quite trust herself not to somehow reveal her previous connection to Mother if she spoke.
James stared at Vargas as he approached, taking a few moments to compose himself as his heart fluttered,
He shuffled nervously, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with the imposing Master and cleared his throat, deciding to just get to the point.
He glanced back at her, hoping she didn't flee, and spoke a bit more softly to her,
James shifted his weight off his leg and held it slightly up, the bruised and battered limb complaining already about standing for so long.
Vargas' brow drew down, some, as best such rigid skin could, in some confusion. What was it, exactly, that James was asking him to do-? It wasn't doubt, exactly--but there were many reasons and the horse wasn't quite giving hints. Well, it wasn't to kill Aethereal--or he'd not be asking her to explain something.
Vargas interrupted to ask,
He was already making mental notes, too--Tahi-shei, for one, would need to be watched, protected. That one kept going above and beyond, and showing potential.
Other than that, he kept his gaze on Aethereal, waiting. James was asking her to report, and he would listen: but he wasn't sure what was expected, just yet. Whatever the case, he'd need to make sure this one wouldn't want to return to Dontacael. But business first: what was it she had seen?
@Aethereal
So much for secrecy, then.
How much could she reveal to Vargas, while keeping her family safe? (Because despite everything James had told her, despite how morally... questionable it was, they were still her family. She had given James a chance to explain, and they deserved the same before she passed judgement. Was it selfish, to try to keep Mother and her siblings safe when they'd allegedly torn another family apart? Ahh, but she didn't know the full story yet. There, that was her excuse.) Aethereal had no doubt that if Mother could still speak to her, she'd be telling her that Vargas was powerful and dangerous and not to be trusted.
Too bad she didn't exactly have any choice but to talk to him. Thanks, James.
She could do this. She could do this. Don't be specific about the tunnels, don't let them know you know their location- "I was hatched into Ursa," she said through (through? who knew exactly where her voice came from, anyway?) figuratively gritted teeth as the opening in her neck squeezed and opened repeatedly in displeasure. "Mother talked to me. With our minds. She offered me safety and a family, but peace was taken from me by crushing air and dreams of alien war. I began to drip - it's not drool," she said the last part defensively, though James had reassured her Vargas had had experience with the substance.
"It got worse, so I came into the next cave in this direction. I felt a pull, telling me to seek out chaos. Then, this one-" she gestured with a wing, here, "- and his deer friend found me. They destroyed the mental link, and James told me you would have a way to help. You would know why the chaos within leaves me restless and unstable. You would have a way to fix it."
Aethereal stopped here, and tilted her neck at Vargas, wings slightly open in an expectant manner. So fix it, and I can leave this cursed place went unsaid.
@James
James tried to steady his breathing as Aethreal talked, wishing he had a way to warn Vargas before speaking into his mind. Since his encounter with Mother at the raid, he'd been reluctant to observe or talk to anyone mentally. Both because it was a breach of privacy and because it reminded him of her too much.
But right now he had little choice.
He looked at Aethereal as if he didn't just talk to Vargas with his mind,
He was so nervous.
To Aethereal he listened sombrely, and in silence. He would address her in due time, but first James had more to say.
Vargas gave a half-amused grunt.
Vargas turned and began the swinging, easy pace toward the Spire, glancing back--could she see him? Was she blind? He couldn't tell, really; there were pits along her flanks, but were they sight organs? The oil dripping from her was clue enough as to her origins, but her design he wasn't familiar with.
He spoke, then, as he walked--to give her something to navigate to, but also to inform her.
He studied her, for a moment.
Creations did not do well outside the nest--not for long, at least.
@Aethereal
They were grave accusations indeed. If Vargas was to be believed, then Mother was not her true Mother, but a sentient infection. The worst part was that she didn't think he was lying - or at least, she thought he thought he was telling the truth. Vargas really thought that Mother would make her serve and die, would kill everyone in this nest.
The most burning question was why. Why did they want each other destroyed? What was the purpose, the motivation behind it all? Surely, she thought, Dontacael and the Creator did not fight for kicks and giggles.
"But why?" she asked, forgetting to fear. "Why does Mother--Dontacael--want to destroy us? Why do you design, create, and oversee? Why does the Creator gift us with something that would tear us apart?" The deer in Ursa did not leave to visit Draco, as far as she knew. Neither did the birds, and her siblings certainly didn't. James hadn't seemed to know much about it, either. What made her and Vargas special? "What is the 'gift' behind the danger, and why does he grant it to only some of us?" Aethereal stopped before the Spire, but did not touch it. "It's - it's not addictive, is it?" If it was, she would have to find it within her to control the chaos herself. Aethereal did not want to be bound to this place forever, doomed to visit it or be torn apart. Or would it happen regardless of whether she used it now or not--?
Even as she spoke, Aethereal's mind was whirling, putting together her own hypotheses about the world. For all their enmity, Dontacael and the Creator seemed more similar than different. If Mother would give them no choice but to serve (even though she still thought it had seemed like a choice, when she'd first joined the family), the Creator made it so they would have no choice but to visit his Spire. Each would kill the other without mercy, and if Mother had torn a dragon's family apart, then Vargas was keeping her from her own siblings. Perhaps both thought it was for the good of the creatures they affected. And both had the power to grant her sight, though Mother had done it first. It made sense, in its own harsh way: if one side was terrible, then the other must also be, in a sort of twisted symmetry. Each had its own good parts, too, to balance the bad it did. But it still didn't explain why, and she turned to Vargas for the answer to that. "Did the Creator also create Dontacael?" she added after a pause.
@James
James followed behind them, but didn't dare get close to the Spire. He wasn't too keen on getting corrupted himself, thank you very much, but as long as he remained within ear-shot, he was comfortable. He wished to listen to what Vargas had to say, too.
He was relieved that he seemed to be getting to Aethereal, getting her to ask questions. Perhaps this could cause her to become neutral, bending to neither side but delving into certain aspects of both to improve daily life, like he did. Little things that balanced it out. But perhaps that was just the ideas of an overly optimistic horse.
He hated to walk deeper into Draco, his ears pinning in discomfort. Couldn't Vargas have picked a better cave to set up his Build-A-Monster in? One less... pulsating?