At first the unintended offense inflicted had no effect on their demeanor. Always primarily an observer, any action taken calculated, they simply gazed unblinkingly at Pyrosera, processing her upset at the slights she believed their words implied. How quick were these Gembounds to detect malice where none was harbored, they noted, just as it'd been during that bittersweet day in Gemini. While Order had successfully held the line there as commanded, the victory hadn't been without cost. They, the supportive roles of the Hive, hosted mental scars from the conflict that erupted there, courtesy of those they wished to sway to their cause. This seething response appeared a miniature version of the foolish retaliation that'd battered them then, not yet matured to the point of causing actual wounds. Uncertainty reigned as to whether it could be nipped in the bud before evolving into a far more destructive form.

"You confuse want with purpose though they are connected. Whims can eventually form into an overarching goal for life if repeated enough. Otherwise they are merely that. Would you call your entire reason for existence food or water? Or that stone you wanted and nothing else?" Halcyon directed a pointed look at the opal. "It takes time for purpose to develop for those without an immediate one. It is the distillation of many wants into a main one which triumphs over the rest and ultimately guides them."

But the pup was caught in the cyclone of her outrage and already charging into an assault on Mother's will long before the last syllable exited their mouth. Although no other overly visible sign of magic existed, flaring eyes twisted Halcyon's senses to another time and place. Heat pressed on them from all sides, and the stench of charred crystalline flesh wafted into nostrils, skin and scales rapidly burning away. Their throat clenched from oxygen deprivation worse than the humidity clogging the tunnel, flames of the past devouring the air before it could worm into lungs. The sight of a canine instead of a feline remained as their single anchor to reality, and fingers blindly sought for another to root them better in sensibility. Their unaltered hand grasped their staff, and the sensation of the perfectly parallel wood grain against their palm slowed a thundering heartbeat.

In contrast to internal turmoil, their face's expression remained unchanged. "As my purpose was predetermined, my wants align with them. I do not need permission to pursue them since it was already given when I was born. Mother established the basis of who I am, but you are mistaken if you believe I cannot operate without hearing her constant approval. She only actively directs on matters of benefit to all Drones. The remainder of my time is mine alone to use."

Nerves tingled, infused by Order. Claws plucked a pebble from the ground and rolled it between fingers. If suspicions bore out regarding the previous magical display, they crouched in the presence of that which had once nearly destroyed them. Unlike then, lack of preparation would not be their agonizing downfall.