ORIGIN

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of either Chaos-Two or Khavur in a couple cycles' time. It hadn't bothered him overmuch; he'd authorized their travel before Chaos-Two had utterly botched its trial, and hadn't found them in time to revoke it. He'd been busy, too, with Ursa; and as a result he didn't know about the scuffles that had occurred back here in Draco itself. Perhaps Totum knew, but if so, nobody had mentioned it to him yet.

But he still had to deal with Chaos-Two's utter failure. It had been a bizarre response, completely at odds with both what he'd expected and all of Chaos-Two's behavior up until that point. A training he'd carefully overseen had collapsed like a broken, burning house of cards, leaving nothing but a tumble of debris and smoke, and Vargas had to decide how to fix it.

His first impulse, and a carryover from an older era, was to sweep it all aside and begin anew. But he knew that Khavur held some sort of link with Chaos-Two; he did not know, still, how deep. They cared for one another, at least. They travelled together, they looked after one another; a threat to Chaos-Two was one thing that would drive Khavur out of its mind. So perhaps Khavur would hold some insight; some way to build the cards back up from dust, without sweeping them from the table entirely.

He intended, too, to check on Khavur itself: to see how it was faring. He did not want to repeat his errors with the Orthoclase, who had drifted away and then departed, it seemed, entirely. (He still felt a little bad about that, believe it or not.)

So on he stalked, all spines and quills and purple limbs, toxic eyes cutting through the voidlight.

"KHAVUR?" he called out, his voice echoing through Draco. Perhaps today it would be in earshot, and he could begin to tackle these troubles... with help, for once, and useful advice, instead of his personal judgment alone.

Khavur's flight was a pleasant surprise, and enough to turn the edges of his mood, a little. Vargas ran toxic eyes over the wings. It didn't fly often; and this flight looked fairly well-practiced. For once, Khavur looked the true and monstrous beast Vargas had had in mind when initially designing it.

"It is good to see you getting good use out of your wings," he told it, and carefully-phrased. "I came for two things." Straight to business. "First: to check on you, on how you are doing. I do not mean progress but your state. Mood, needs," he clarified, rattling these off as if they were normal for him, as though these questions from Vargas were little more than fact.

They were, again, mistakes he didn't wish to repeat.

"Second, I came to ask your opinion. You know Chaos-Two better than I do. I had set up a trial for it, at its request; it had believed itself to be ready and so did I. It gave up and fled, crying," and he did his best to hide the disgust from his tone. "I want to know if you hold any insight as to why. This is the first time it has shown weakness, and it was catastrophic."

Surely Khavur, of all of them, did not need to be told how out of his way he had gone for Chaos-Two; he didn't bother to list the concessions he had made toward its vulnerabilities, the special task he'd assigned it, the caution with which he'd treated it all its life. Khavur would know; it didn't bear repeating. "And, do you have an opinion on what I should do about it?"

Failure alone was no reason to kill a Forge, but Chaos-Two had crossed a few lines in its departure. It still wasn't the first place Vargas would want to go, with this, and so he hoped that Khavur would have a perhaps more useful idea than that.

Its mood fluctuates-? He made an immediate note to pursue that further--it was concerning, and it was the first he'd heard of it. Or at least, that he remembered. It wasn't something he wanted to let go, and it was important to show concern of course, as well. He did not want his spawn thinking itself forgotten, despite how busy he had been.

"I am glad the journey was good for you, then. When we are finished discussing Chaos-Two, I would hear more about your mood fluctuations." And then, in a remarkable display of actual empathy that might have almost been at astonishing "normal person" levels: "It sounds as though it may be frustrating?"

And then...

'You saw... only a fraction of what I would do if ever there were a circumstance in which Chaos-Two were harmed.' To say that Vargas was taken aback by this would have been an understatement. His immediate, reflexive urge was to lash out and tear into Khavur, but it was not strong enough to act on--he tamped that down and went back over that sentence in his mind. Was it threatening me..? he asked himself, in utter disbelief.

He was so shocked by its audacity--and his own uncertainty if he could possibly be interpreting that correctly--that he was silent throughout all the rest of what Khavur said.

And beyond.

He sat, staring, debating. He hadn't missed the rest of what the revived Oilstone had gone on to say, but after absorbing it, his mind at once circled back.

Doubts flickered through him. Not fear of Khavur, by any means, but disappointment in it was certainly there. No, his doubts were of another sort. Have I been too soft, that they speak OPENLY like this?! -Have I been too harsh, that they feel the need?! Too kind? Too cruel? Too patient? Too demanding?

Six acid eyes narrowed as he gathered himself, leaning in a fraction, staring at the Reaver. "That sounded," he began slowly, "like a threat. But I know you would not be foolish enough to make a true threat, and so I will take it as a statement of fact: that you would lose control. I will address that in a moment. For now: you have begun, I think, with a critical piece of misinformation."

Vargas didn't lean back, but his tone became a little less severe, his words less slow and emphasized. "Chaos-Two's trial was not to teach Draconua a thing--though it was certainly led to believe as much. Let me go back a moment, Khavur, because this issue keeps... resurfacing, and it is an ugly one! I grow tired of it, now. When I became a Master I resolved to do things my way. I assured all of your safeties. In the time since, which of you have I harmed-? Truly harmed, past tests, past spars. Which of you have I killed-? When Chaos-Two was hatched, deformed and blind, unable barely to walk, did I kill it-?" These questions, being obviously rhetorical, were not given gaps for answers. Slowly, inexorably, the Leviathan continued his march of words. "Did I relegate it, even, to the sidelines? I found it a task, Khavur. Something it enjoyed doing. I trained it, and encouraged it, and even remade it to remove its pain. The fact that both of you hold so little faith in my attempts at a new method of leadership is... disappointing," and fuck him, it was. He let the word hang, in part because he was dwelling on it. Disappointed.

"At no point have I ever caused it harm. When I brought Draconua to it, I had spoken to her in advance. Asked her to make a display, but not to harm it. It was meant to be intimidating. I tell you this not to berate you but so you understand what I am about to tell you. When Chaos-Two was hatched, it showed determination. It showed will. It held a desire to prove itself in a way that I felt indomitable! It wanted to show that it was as good as any other creature in the caves, despite its disability," and Vargas was suddenly animated, suddenly vehement, his voice raised, his arm swinging to gesture here and there. He felt strongly about this. Frustrated? Disappointed? It was unclear; but it was obvious that he had thought much, once upon a time, of the Reaver's sibling. "I respected that, and I did my best to help it grow and learn, to find its place. And it flourished, for the most part. It trained other Valkhounds. Creations intended for Lord Dhracia herself! For the both of you to think that a simple appearance of Draconua in its test--its test!--which is meant to be quite harsh, and I warned it of such!--meant its impending destruction..? Your lack of faith in me is-... Yes, disappointing," Vargas finished, with faint disgust in his tone. (He very much needed a thesaurus.)

"I was stood close by, and when Draconua did lose control--when Chaos-Two provoked her--I stepped in. I fought her back, and it got away safely. It was, and is, unharmed." A pause, as he studied Khavur.

"Now--I came here to ask your opinion and I am glad that you have given it but I wanted that clear from the outset. It was not an impossible trial, because it did not have to teach Draconua a damn thing. I simply wanted it to prove that same determination I had seen in it from the outset: its innovation and its stubbornness. And it did show that. It was seconds off success, by my own decree, when it simply gave up." Dare he say, 'disappointed' yet again?

"I find it disappointing, too," (there it was) "that you think I would punish it with death for its failure." (In fairness... he had considered it.) "I will be laying down new punishments the next time I gather the Forge--not to grow more harsh but as a suggestion handed to me by one of your colleagues. Apparently, as Overseer Cain tells me, you all fear I will come down with 'death' at the first whisper of failure. It is time to point out that 'hunting for meat for the Forge' and 'sentry duty' are also possible punishments." This held sardonic, almost bitter amusement in it. But perhaps it would help, he felt; perhaps if they knew there were tiers of punishment aside from "instant death" they would stop drifting apart, clashing, failing.

"As for a new trial--I asked your opinion and I thank you for it. But I told it it could have a new Trial, if it wished; that it must consider if it wishes a new responsibility entirely, or to make a second attempt. It has not returned to me to report with its decision, and the alotted time has passed. I assumed it did not want another test." He studied Khavur, puzzled.

Had Chaos-Two simply ignored his proclamation, at the end of its trial? Had it missed it, in its own damaged state?

"I am trying to figure out what to do about its failure if it has simply shut down. It has not requested a new responsibility. It has not requested a new trial. It has ignored my orders to do one or the other." Claws tapped the floor. "Is there something else it wants to do? Is there something else that holds its passion? There must be punishment for it storming off--for its failure to report in, for its screaming defiance instead of speech at the trial's end. I expect it to keep more patience than that, considering all the patience I have shown for it. Respect goes both ways," he added, and wasn't that a nice little cliche? But it was true; and Vargas grunted. "The problem is that I do not know what punishment, or what task to try to offer it, or what to do about it not reporting in."

He eyed Khavur. "I was hoping that you had an idea; some insight beyond 'it was not fair,' which--had it been the task you imagined it to be--it would not have been. But it was not, so all of that is rather... null. I suppose I can address it at the meeting, then," and his tone was almost weary, but at least he had an answer. "As for your remark that I am certain was not a threat, I will point out two things. First, bear the patience I have shown in mind. That patience will very quickly wear thin and snap and I have no intention of leaving threats to the Chaos Forge lying around and festering. Second, the pair of you hold a bond that would not have been allowed in my era. The responsibility to prove its value--or at least its lack of interference with our work--is on you. On the two of you. I have ignored it on the assumption that you are different creatures than in my era; that perhaps such things are needed. If it turns out that this bond instead challenges your loyalties to myself or to the Forge, I will not only end it, but prevent any such bonds from being maintained among the others in the future. Your first loyalty is to me, to this Forge, to the Nest. Not to Chaos-Two. I cannot risk allowing otherwise. Do not prove to me that this bond is a liability, Khavur. I will not mention this again." And did he mean the seeming-threat? Or the bond itself? He was staring, either way.

He thought he'd handled it rather well; clear, concise, and honest. Perhaps the Reaver would not like his explanation but it was a true one; Vargas couldn't risk conflicting loyalties tearing at the Forge when the nest's very fate rested on it. He could not risk rebellion. "Do not take my softness for weakness," he added, quietly, and it was unclear which part he considered "soft."

"Regardless... forget this now. I will address Chaos-Two's problems at the meeting, and I hope that you hold a little faith in that. If it has forgotten that it was meant to report, then send it to me. If it has chosen not to, then so be it. As for you, I want to know about these mood fluctuations that you have mentioned. Are they disturbing you? What are they?"

There was no "do you understand" to the entire... tirade? No, it had not been angry. His little speech, then. He didn't ask if Khavur understood, or agreed, because he was stating fact; and he was tired of the repetition, tired of telling himself over and over that this way was a better way, that soon they would all fall in line. Did he want to return to heavy-handed violence? No; with the Overseer's advice, he'd try to modify what he had, change the system without throwing it away, much as (ironically) Khavur had just suggested regarding Chaos-Two itself. But it was almost dread of that very system that had him so weary. He did not want to rule through violence, to have them rebelling and terrified, to have to watch another slinking away with a broken mind. But if this attempt at kindness--poor as it may be--was prompting the same sorts of rebellion? They'd been given what he could offer, but were infinitely ravenous for more. Would they tear him to pieces to get it? Would he need to break them in advance; to ensure nothing here could harm him?

What was too harsh? What was too kind?...

Ahh, the inner struggles of the tyrant dictator.

The words Khavur spoke were the proper ones, even if they did not match some inner thoughts, even if it didn't explain what it had meant. Vargas could not see a way they had not been a threat--unless they were a genuine warning of its lack of control-?

"Forgiven," he boomed bluntly, without emotion, but his mind was on Khavur's actual words.

These, combined with its dismissal of its "feeling a bit chaotic," had his attention sharpen. He exhaled softly. "Send it, then," he went on bluntly, in regards to Chaos-Two--and that was that, then. Would it grasp that he was not the villain Chaos-Two would, in its own mind, paint him to be-? He was not the antagonist standing between it and what it wanted.

Chaos-Two was that person.

Vargas was just doing his damn job, and he thought he was being fairly reasonable about it, too. Which brought him--rather wearily--onto this next topic, but it was one that, it seemed, needed addressing.

"Hmm. You were created a Chaos beast. There are options, if you wish it; I will be opening the Arena for combat again soon if you wish to take part. It could be a way to let off steam and showcase your design, as well--but the rules for the first match, at least as we plan it, will likely be no magic. If you can control that, you could try your hand and see if it helps you. But I have a suspicion, as late."

Ahh, time for an admission. He never liked these. Not just that he'd perhaps made a terrible mistake, no: but that his terrible mistake may have cost several of his children their well-being. His-... Spawn. Creations.

Whatever.

"I suspect that in my... newness, when I created my spawn, I failed at one thing. I focused terribly hard on the physical--your shapes, your forms--bodies, abilities. And in the process I did not consider that your personalities might need moulding, as well. That your minds might struggle... To use a metaphor, like water in a jug, except the jug has no shape, and this water--your very essence, your minds--sloshes around and cannot find a form. Ironically, Chaos-Two has perhaps the least evidence of this--granted, its personality has changed drastically, but it is a fairly strong one. But you and Orthoclase-Alpha," he went on--and then had a sudden realization.

They must all think I killed it. What other possibility was there-? It had shown weakness, he'd sent it away, it had never come back. He had tracked it down immediately, too--found it at rest in Pegasus. Was this why Khavur's words stammered, some? Why Chaos-Two looked at him with new resentment? He studied Khavur for a moment. "In case it is in question, I did not kill Orthoclase-Alpha. I am still looking for it--I am concerned for its well-being and if any of you see it, inform me. But its mind shattered easily, and if you find yours is faltering, do not feel the need to hide that. I suspect that I could reform you--as I did with Chaos-Two--if it causes you a great deal of... discomfort." How else did one describe not having a cohesive personality-? Having thoughts and feelings of pure jolting chaos, from one moment to the next? It couldn't be simply a normal, natural thing (no, of course not; Vargas had no frame of reference for these feelings)--so it must be a failure on his part.

"It would not, I think, erase who you are but it might provide... stability. If you seek it. But if you prefer, perhaps we can find other ways. I urge you not to ignore it, Khavur. I made this mistake with the Orthoclase, and it only grew worse."

Now the subject was in Khavur's clawed hands. Would it dismiss his concerns a second time? Agree to them? Elaborate on what it had been feeling? He did not know, but he chose to lay out a little more: "If I am right, any suffering inflicted on you--my spawn, all of you--which seems to have no external source, may be the fault of my own mistake. I apologize for that and I wish to rectify it. Speak to me of it more if you wish but--if you do not--bear it in mind. My only warning is not to let it get too far."

Ahh, if only he'd known that Khavur had already struck out, lashed into, others of the Forge-!

Well, the topic had shifted, now. Chaos-Two, at least, seemed... resolved; he had some inkling of how to proceed. And hopefully the ex-babysitter would come to him, then, of its own accord with something resembling contrition and an idea on how it wished to move forward. Now the second issue--Khavur's mind--minds?--presented itself (themselves?), and he settled in in case the two-headed beast wished to pursue it further.

Again, its words were the right ones--reassurance that it was doing well, yes, but also that it would come to him if it needed aid. An admonishment he'd been about to add, a promise, a warning: that he would be there, that he should be consulted, if ever it got out of hand.

The result was a stern nod. "Good," he said simply, oblivious to the nuances in Khavur's mind, to the mockery and admiration, to the doubt and the surprise. Oblivious, too, to its mercurial opinion of him.

Vargas debated, for a moment. "I realize too that your position in the Forge is somewhat... nebulous! We will need to solidify that. Consider what rank you wish to strive for. The goals you would obtain, the role you would declare your own. When I call a meeting I will ask this of most of our members. And if you think," he added, studying Khavur thoughtfully, "of anything that might help Chaos-Two, past what we have discussed, come to me."

He shifted in place, and considered again. "That is all," he decided; "is there anything else you would address before I go back to my work?"