It advanced, and watched through the dissipating field of glass as Vargas went on three limbs. Alpha was absolutely pleased when it saw glowing blood dribbling down, hitting the floor. I made him bleed, it cheered in its conscious, continuing to charge forwards, the rest of the glassy whirlwind spiking into the scuffling Overseer.

The orthoclase charged full-speed, teeth bared in a wicked snarl. He was missing use of one leg, and that meant it had a chance to knock into the other and make him be the one to fall. It barreled ahead, letting loose its hold on the glass-storm and dropping its head down much like a ram to smash all of its weight onto that one forearm.

Vargas was in for it now - Alpha'd flung itself in full assault mode, uncaring of whether or not it'd shatter one of its Overseer's forelimbs in what was supposed to be a casual spar. For the first time, things were going its way, and the orthoclase wasn't going to let that go. It was going to prove itself, it was going to live.

Impact-made, it squatted slightly, bracing itself as Vargas dropped and tumbled. Balance maintained, Alpha twisted and scrambled out of the way of snapping - and, unbeknownst to it, venomous - fangs. The monstrous child lurched forwards, many limbs feeling for handholds on the purple behemoth and shying away from poisonous quills (it'd remembered him mentioning that at some point.) In an ideal world, it'd end up putting every bit of itself on him, holding him down through sheer mass.

Teeth hit home and Alpha gave a strained grunt, trying to yank the bitten limb back. Those fangs were hooked in fast, and the orthoclase figured it could go for its own retribution - twisting to bite whatever was closest, albeit a neck, shoulder, arm, et cetera...

As soon as it went for the motion, a searing numbness started to spread out from its leg, stiffening every muscle that it crawled through. Panic set in as it tried to flex that leg, push forwards to bite. One leg turned to two, and two to four - until it finally couldn't move any part of its body without the absolutely most extreme of efforts. Even then, it was just a twitch.

Regardless of if it managed to get its last assault in, Alpha slumped beneath Vargas, movements sluggish until there were none bar strained breathing.

Now, it was up to the Overseer to untangle themselves from this terrible game of Twister.

Muscles pulled directly out of its own reach, Alpha was panicking at the mercy of the hand on its throat. Vargas had paralyzed it and - well, the orthoclase was going to leave out description for each of the extremely vivid death scenarios it was certain it'd be witnessing. Just know that not a single one had a bit of sunshine and rainbows gallivanting over the dells.

The Overseer was pushing all of that under the rug, seemingly unaffected - shoving ahead with notes and a reminder of what state it was in. Acidic eyes twitched towards him, breaths having to be dredged from down deep. It could flex its claws, loosen its jaws slightly, but any attempts at coherent-sounding speech fell flat; maybe the last was for the best. Alpha wanted to scream, cry, back away - something. To do something with itself instead of just laying here and taking advice it didn't want.

Nothing'd overwhelmed it so much as this supposedly helpful spar had - and, no matter how much it searched for why dread and fear were dancing through it when it'd apparently performed well enough to save itself, Alpha couldn't find a reason. Nothing was wrong with this. It'd fought and done enough. Vargas had taught it the necessary lessons and punished accordingly. This was how the Caves were supposed to be.

It compartmentalized dully, and stamped the resultant box with a nice, friendly sticker... maybe something with a golden star on it and long-forgotten writing saying "GOOD VIBES."

Alpha worked its jaw until it was in a moveable state, grunting softly with each pull of the limbs, trying to tuck them beneath itself and move again towards the relative safety of the tunnel wall. Its head swung like it was dead weight atop the nest of quills, tongue snaking out to swipe lazily at a shattered plate on its forearm. One arm, center-left, reached up, picking at the carapace and flicking away a bloodied piece wedged in.

Slowly, carefully - quietly - it asked, "how do I get practice when there's only you?" Still licking the wounds it could reach and taking out broken bits, the child pressed almost disdainfully, "nothing big."

Alpha worked its way down its forelimbs, shoulder first and spread toes next. Its tongue swiped up and down its carapace, catching painfully where even hairline fractures laid. Maybe a trip to Canis was in order - to find a proper pool of water to wade around in. It paused mid-lick down a gangly arm, and lifted its meaty paw to smooth down its quills into somewhat orderly fashion. No point in continuing to look like it'd been pummeled in a fight. Idly, it yanked on a piece of molt.

When Vargas spoke, though - it did listen. Radioactive eyes fixed on the Overseer, almost warily watching his motions even after he sat down. He'd, at least, agreed that it was nigh impossible for it to have had any prior experience fighting against beasts larger and faster than it. Shame it had to go through that - no, no, that was fine. That was for something I should have known. - to meet in this middle, where Vargas offered advice that Alpha could take.

Its eyes widened slightly at the description of such a beast, marveling at how it'd missed it and not heard of it before. Something to take on an Overseer? Perhaps, through association, if the orthoclase could defeat it, it could defeat Vargas in a straight battle. More practice with all of that glass could help in bringing down a flying beast...

Breathing came easier when it had something else to think about.

Like another of the Vargas-spawn, unheard of before, being elsewhere; kept elsewhere, even. The Sentinels weren't privy to all of their Overseer's business but... Alpha blurted, "why is it not with us? Training and fighting here?" The way its eyes suddenly lit up betrayed how eager it would've been to have a sibling to properly fight with - learn with, even. Even if this mysterious broodmate was specialized in magic, the orthoclase would have happily done many a spar with it.

It blinked at the mention of brood - quills pricking like thousands of little, expressive ears. Alpha, known for its tendency to just take information and regurgitate it later when asked about it, had at least picked up on the importance of reproduction. The point of status it provided was proof enough of something's worth. That the Overseer even suggested it might be able to have the choice to... he saw enough of something in it. Something worth using again.

Thoughts fluttering to the Gembound it'd seen, it nodded slightly. Maybe it could test some for strength and worthiness and keep them in mind for later.

Those came to a rapid halt, making room for memorizing three - no, four tasks given to it. First was sparring (and back came the wary sense of dread at repeating history), and second was finding itself in battle with that winged beast. The latter was a test all on its own, self-determined and self-managed. If it could even survive... well, that was an accolade all on its own, right?

A lot of when you are readys and if you want's were interspersed through those tasks, and for something that'd made few independent, possibly major decisions before... well, Alpha wasn't sure how to take those other than to simply jump on the opportunity that seemed the least risky considering the state of its shell. It took one last survey of its body, stretching both forelimbs out in front of itself in a cat-like fashion. "This'll come back better," the orthoclase grunted, shaking its quills out, "I can go find - Algol? In a few days, a week? And I... want to spar against you and Titanite. Learn." It seemed to fumble with the word "want." "I'll wait until I'm an adult for the winged beast."

It stared, chin tucking slightly as if looking for some kind of approval.