He had meant to test it, but... to his sudden surprise, after a few moments spent contemplating Alpha's words, Vargas realized he was considering its opinions, instead.

It had perspective he hadn't seen. He hadn't seen any usefulness whatsoever to Selenite-Gamma; to him it seemed a weak, stupid, stuttering mess. But it hid well? This, Vargas decided, must have been from its cat blood.

Slowly, still monitoring the Hydra situation beyond, Vargas asked another question.

"Tell me, little one. Were you forming a great army, with scouts, and messengers, and soldiers; with front-line warriors and skirmishers, assassins and heavy forces, air attackers and so forth. What tasks would you assign these siblings of yours? What would you task them with?"

Vargas side-eyed the child. He knew this was too complex a question for it. It likely had no concept of armies; it might not even know what scouts were. But he wanted its answer, nonetheless.

Thus far, it had not failed to rally with its cunning; he would see how far that went.

Again, somewhat to his surprise, he found himself slipping from evaluating the child's abilities to considering its actual words. He found himself about to consideringly suggest that Gamma--without wings--would always be a sub-par messenger; and then he blinked three of his six eyes and studied Alpha afresh.

He did not want to discourage it. Hell, no; it needed reward. Praise.

"Very good," Vargas growled; "you have a sharp mind. You're observing--taking note of traits, and the world around you; and you're deducing--coming to conclusions, making your own answers. And they're right. Your mind will be one of your own strengths," Vargas said, facing forward.

He felt a twinge of pride.

And then... of guilt.

He'd left Titanite behind, for now, hadn't he--and why? Because the thing, while cunning and attentive, was a dreamer. It was often drifting off, staring at nothing, wandering away without realizing it; it wasn't, and would never be, a successful test subject. A successful design. But this one-...

Vargas glanced to Alpha.

This one was a success, if he were any judge--and he was. He struggled internally, for a moment, with the unfamiliar feeling of inner conflict--guilt versus pride, and should it matter?

He pushed the thoughts away. "Does Ruby share your mind, as well--err, is it smart?" he corrected himself, lest the young one misunderstand his meaning.

This response had clearly been conceived through a half self-centered lens, but Vargas grunted his acknowledgement of the answer nonetheless.

"I will have to take the two of you aside and train with you. To conserve energy is not a bad thing, but to refuse to train and grow is weakness," Vargas informed it, referring, of course, to Ruby-Beta.

He fell silent, then, watching through the barrier ahead. His mind shifted back to the trials, and he wondered who would live, and who would die. And to that end--"What do you wish to learn, Orthoclase? What would you know, what would you become skilled at, were you to choose what you could train? And you can," he added, offering it a knowing look.

He had the feeling that it had already found that out, that it was already honing what skills it wanted--but if there were more it wanted aid with, he would help it. That was part of his job, after all.

Vargas studied the forearms, briefly, and then Orthoclase as a whole. He pondered this, for a moment.

"I imagine you will be very large, when fully-grown, and very little will attack you! But if it does, you have benefits. The quills, for one thing--if you turn them toward an enemy. Mine, at least, are toxic. And your skin-" and here, Vargas reached out to lightly rap with thumb-knuckles on one of the harder armor plates the child was growing "-will provide you with armor. There is always magic, too, to stay hidden, or to throw enemies away, but I would not rely on that. There is another option," he added, thoughtfully.

He eyed Orthoclase. He remembered its stone-giver, Elyon, and its own predecessor design. He recalled, too, their different stance. "If you practice, you may be able to stand on your rear four limbs, and use the front two to hold items. Weapons, or shields. That would help you with defense. Try it," he suggested, and then eyed the barrier again.

Vargas observed, considering. For a brief moment he thought about a possible harness, something to keep the child's torso secured upright; but what was the point? It, like Vargas, had formidable natural weaponry.

But it had the issue--as he'd known it would, from the moment of its hatching--of ungainly shape.

"Another good defense is to kill something before it can hurt you," he informed it drily, turning away again to watch Hydra. "But I knew when you hatched that you might have issues. You have too many legs, and it does not make you faster. And it is hard to use extra legs as weapons. You are too heavy, I think, to ever be a climber, either. But if you are careful, it won't matter. If you'e careful, and stay hidden, you are strong enough to overpower something in an ambush before it can react. Your weight alone is a good advantage--use that. Stealth, and strength, size. Don't try to be faster than something, because I don't think you'll be very agile." He wasn't sure how large the child would grow, but it was bulky, and he was pretty sure it'd be larger than the average creature the caves were now producing.

His mind shifted gears, looking at it through the perspective of army, and he eyed Orthoclase with new thought.

"What your bulk is good for is front-line fighting in a group," he told it. "It is all about training soldiers; and I think your place in combat would be as a powerful shock trooper. Rushing in. Scattering your foes. You would be hard to take down. Even breaking one of your legs would hardly matter, with the extras. You could break the way for others to pour in. It may be wise to form an alliance with something smaller, faster--something that can scout for you, something that can do magic on your behalf."

And Vargas remembered the many hunts he'd had with Nemean, and grinned.