The newest creation--the one intended for his Lord Dhracia--had spent much time slinking around the empty chambers and old bones. Vargas was aware of its presence there, and had been studying its growth (so to speak) closely. He did not fear for the creature ruining his careful preservation and arrangement of skeletons to gemstones, as he'd already withdrawn those oilstones that still held promise, setting them aside with marks on the stone beside them to note which was which. They were committed to memory, now, and he had no need of retaining the skeletons in careful formations.
It was time, instead, to focus on the living.
V-Chaos-Four had been given a cycle or so to acclimate itself to existence: to gain a more graceful control of limbs, to be taught to hunt, to drink water and to swim, to fly. Vargas hadn't fully tested its linguistic capabilities nor had he formally trained it; this, he felt, was somewhat overdue.
He twined now through the ruined pods, the dessicated chrysalises that formed a macabre catacomb around the Womb along the cave's rear wall. Their shattered surfaces had held Chaos-Four itself and it was here that the beast often seemed to return: whether out of boredom or some other fascination, Vargas did not know. But his clawed limbs carried him with swift grace among the shattered stones, acidic eyes splitting the shadows for any sign of his creation.
@V-Chaos-Four