ORIGIN

Vargas wished that he could write.

He wished he had a notepad, and pen, or better yet some form of magical notation to follow him around. It was getting a lot to keep track of, these days, and right now he was sitting not far off the Black Spire itself, struggling to keep things straight.

He had a meeting to plan. Consequences to lay out. And he was still busy deciding upon a good, long list of infractions (probably longer than Garnet-Delta--no, Cain--had intended) and punishments for each. "Motivation," the Overseer had said. And-

'Master Vargas?'

Toxic eyes darted up, tracking the sound of the voice. Now?? He set his jagged teeth, and pushed up, pacing toward the voice. Of all the interruptions...

Aethril--the new Hand living in the Nest itself--was waiting. Drinking-... something, he thought (was that a drink?) and staring up at the Spire. "Yes?" he asked. And then, remembering his manners; "I am here."

Long limbs slipped him down the jagged slope to approach her, pace turning more loose as he hit level ground.

What did she want now..?

Vargas tried to rush his prior thoughts into memory before he forgot them. It wasn't something he was unused to; as Overseer he'd had to remember a wealth of information about creatures in testing, their stones, their abilities, their strengths and weaknesses. But that had become habit; a categorization he'd been able to rattle off easily enough. This was another set of information. Disobedience will include the revocation of an existing benefit, temporarily. Possible demotion. Tentative. Assuming unearned benefits will incur the removal of an existing benefit, to be re-earned, or demotion. Slacking off will result in additional responsibilities...

Aethril was complimenting Garnet-Delta, and for a moment he allowed himself to indulge in a little of what the Overseer so often basked in: a superior's approval and pride in a job well done. But Vargas was nothing if not fair, and credit was given where it was due. "Thank you; but it deserves the credit for its own work ethic and dedication. I am glad to know you approve of my choice, however." The latter was a little stiff, a little formal. But truly, Vargas could take almost no credit for Garnet-Delta itself. Yes, he'd trained it personally; but it had wanted to be trained. It hungered to better itself, to prove itself, to serve. It was a good Overseer in every way.

"I will observe, yes. I trust Overseer Cain--it has earned a new name, if this was not mentioned--to gauge it with accuracy. If there are any gaps in its training I will inform the Overseer, or inform you with an offer to patch it up myself." Authority would be left in the Hand's... hands, then. Of course.

A request? -Ah.

Vargas shifted on his feet, tilting his head with some interest. "It is good to know that you approve of my work, if I can make that assumption," he hastened to add, careful of his words. "I've the time, and I am capable. Now, if you wish. I will, of course, need details." Vargas didn't bother to specify which details; he assumed the Hand would know her own needs and desires.

It was an interesting request, however. Was it a test of his abilities to create something to specifications? No; that was more Lord Dhracia's game, and he's already proved himself to her. Aethril must then, he reasoned, want something specific. She already had a bodyguard she'd picked out herself, and a trainer for it--maybe she wanted a mount?

Oh, he rather hoped so; inspiration struck at once. A mighty steed--a horse-based, perhaps, or a great stag or bull; or a giant, purple, spined wolf. Something to be saddled with silks and comfort, but to rend her enemies-... "If you wish something to ride around the caves to ease your travel times, I have ideas," he offered, the light brightening with enthusiasm in his eyes.

Hell, he could even make something to match her Valkhound guard, if she so wished.

Vargas considered closely. He had to admit disappointment at the lack of "yes, make me a giant Valkhorse" command, but this could be interesting, too, as a project.

His first inclination was simply to almost duplicate Overseer Cain (and had she been insulting its size, underhandedly? He wasn't sure, but it almost seemed that way). But if it were to be custom-built, allowing it to blend into the shadows would be good.

"Let us start with a baseline of my Overseer's design as an example," Vargas began. "My first recommendations would be to change its colors to something dark and plain, and to ensure no part of it is bright or glowing. To give it silent wings--feathered, perhaps. Your thoughts-?" he asked. And then, thoughtful--so he didn't miss an important feature--"What exactly will this be for? It may add to the considerations," he explained, all business. He didn't want to pry--he didn't care enough to. Her business was her own, though he did wonder, fleetingly, if she planned to spy on them. All the more reason to tell him, then; as it stood, he or Garn--Cain--would have easily detected an intruder.

Problematics-? The Master's thoughts clamped down on that thought, examining it rapidly from every angle. Before he could perhaps stop himself, he blurted: "In this nest? Are there rebels I was unaware of?"

For a moment, he was taken aback--the power dynamic was shifting but he had gotten used--too used, perhaps--to running this Nest nearly himself. He even had to think back, to remember; had Lord Dhracia given him dominion over the entirety of the nest--or rather, assurances of it safety? He thought that she had--that it had been part of their arrangement--but he had to remind himself that only the Forge, only his people, were potentially under his protection. If another Hand had turned up, it was well within her authority to simply destroy whomever else she wished.

And if Aethril turned on his people-? If she proved to have malevolence lurking beneath that veneer, or turned out to be a traitor on her own? Would he fight her? Die to her power, kill her--what? It was a wearying thought, but Vargas simply turned his mind back to his work. Perhaps it wasn't even something in this nest. "If it is not in this nest, it may necessitate adaptations for travel. And yes, I am familiar with the wings of owls." He'd had one, working alongside the Forge, though where it was now he was unsure--it had gone to Pegasus, the last he'd known. And then, of course, there was Emuh. Although--how did this one know of owls-? Of creatures from that other... set of blueprints? He peered at her briefly, but perhaps she was no traitor. Maybe she'd just encountered them, since her awakening in the nest. "It was what I had in mind," was all he said.

"Feline and avian, then. As for redundancies, extra features? The tail might be a rudder of feathers, for flight control; or I can give it something prehensile to help it cling and climb in hidden places. I can give it cups on the feet to allow it to scale smoother walls when flight is impractical. How many eyes would you like it to have? A beak, or teeth and whiskers; both?" He was making rapid mental notes, head a little tilted as he pushed Aethril's requests into the back of his mind.

And if this is all a trick? Why did Lord Dhracia not inform me of this one's presence? If I create an assassin she turns on the Forge, destroying this Nest from within? Well. He could ask his Lord the next time she was here; her scheduled arrival would be before this one's full adulthood, regardless. "My creations tend to need time to grow, as a warning," he informed her. "If you wish a specific baseline element imparted, do let me know. It would be formed away from this cave."

Relief struck him. Not in this nest. This implied that Aethril was leaving these caves; taking this upcoming creation with her. It did bring more complications--namely, how best to adapt it for travel--but as she said, it would be a matter of doing the best he could, preventatively.

"Omnivorous teeth--and diet," he said, with a glance to her and a tone that was half a question. For eyes, he was considering; two was most certainly not enough, for if one were damaged. Perhaps two pairs on the side--for full three-sixty-degree vision, along with redundancy--and then a binocular pair or two in front? "I can arrange the tail. A fan of shorter feathers over an uncurling prehensile limb would work fine. Did you want any defenses? Quills, venom, or the like?"

Her naming of pressure, rather than light, surprised him; he gave her a brief glance but didn't dare to second-guess. Her choice was her choice, and all he said was "As you wish. And a mix of fur and feathers where it matters, I should think. You are right in saying feathers are too-easily damaged but they are important for the soundless wings." He also did not mention that he didn't think adhesive toes were noisy. He might have been wrong in that, in any case, but he was fairly confident he could make them quite silent. Again, however, her choices were her own and she was the one who would need to live with them.

Strong, flexible bones, Vargas was thinking--for travel--the ability to hold its breath for long periods, to nearly pause its metabolism...
Yes; he could do this.

"Do you have a stone you'd like to see used, or will I be going to find and select one?" he asked, glancing to her yet again.