Being in the chrysalis was the only time Desert felt truly safe. Even as his brittle selenite covered him, he was awash with the lack of emotion in his sleep as his gem fueled his body's reconstruction.

He had to wake up sometime. This emergence was much calmer than his last, less dramatic as his muscles tensed. Settling under the comfort of the fluid was a strange newness, one Desert decided then and there that... He didn't like.

His horns were the first to pierce the shell surrounding him, a crack resounding through the tunnel not long after Hemlocke's. He took longer, though- although his body was desperate to feel the breath of oxygen through air rather than liquid, his mind swirled with new synapses that had replaced long forgotten ones from ages ago.

His companion had already emerged fully when his head finally broke through, more fluids clinging to him that usual. This was the part he hated- the stickiness overwhelmed him as he blew out the liquid from his lungs, coughing up before inhaling a sweltering hot breath. It landed on the dusty sand around them, and bleary new eyes took in the surroundings.

He'd emerged facing the other chrysalises. They were still unhatched then- good. He hadn't been under for long, then. His body made to follow through the crack next, claws flexing against its opening as his arms tried to shove the gem away.

Wait. Those weren't his arms.

He paused for a confused moment, still groggy from his sleep as he glanced down to his shoulders. Thick hand-like appendages had replaced the elbows of his wings, and a wet, wet, mane dripped with the water of his chrysalis. A brief panic flowed through him, drove him to shove against the rest of the gem and crack it open-the rest of his body tumbled out and forward, into the dust and dirt that clung greedily to his wet scales.

The next thing he saw as he was curling up (rather ungracefully) to stand was Hemlocke. They- Ah, they had chrysalized too. Blue eyes flicked over the remnants of garnet strewn about opposite of him before he judged on the alien. No... Wing hands? He was the only one to suffer this new growth, then.

Awkwardly, the two of them pressed against the ground as if they were wings on a wyvern as the purple in the edge of his vision dragged his sight up to- Oh, crap. Vargas.

"O-Overseer!" Desert's voice croaked, at first, still with wet over his vocal cords. He'd hoped to have some time to devise an explanation, but.. No. Vargas was here, as was Hemlocke-

He'd have to think, and fast. Drawing himself up, his modified wings rested naturally on his shoulders to clasp on them as though it'd always been that way, his head shaking a little before being drawn up as well. Surprise was flushed from his system- He had to be professional.

It seemed the both of them were surprised, then. Desert, warily eyeing Hemlocke, ran a sharp set of claws through his mane from his wings, feeling new, alien sensations as he tugged out wet and curls from the hairs as if he were combing a beard. He... Still wasn't sure he liked it.

Hemlocke had begun with excuses. Did it not trust him? Well- Okay, that was understandable given what they had just went though, but Desert still didn't put faith in it on this. Was it taking the lead so it could rat him out? Why wasn't it telling the truth- it was prove better for Hemlocke that way, anyways.

"Yes," he added. Mentally, he kicked himself for even wanting to speak, but- "It was something like this glass magic we'd put around them. It may be the proximity." He shook his head- or perhaps it was just... An uncovered spell they'd both found.

He knew when to shut up, at least. Vargas- he didn't sound as angry as he'd anticipated, more like a stern, disappointed parent. He mentally winced at that. At the listing of reasons, he swallowed softly, wings drawing together. He stepped aside, noting how his joints moved without their weight behind them to look back to the growing creatures as well. "Of course." They wouldn't do those things, none of them! ... Totally not.

Well, they would fight. Let's see how long they'd take this time.

He may have seen through their facade, though. His jaw dropped at first to give another excuse- but, no, something more important to address. His mouth snapped shut and tongue ran over the roof of his mouth. There wasn't a scar. "Yes, I'm... This is a new development," he gave on the changes. The dragon's body twisted to look around himself, wing pulling out and hooked claws twisting. Fully functional, yes. His elbows, as well, had a lack of antlers, and he felt it along his jaw as well.

He pulled a clot of hair from the mane on his neck with jagged claws, noting a more developed thumb along the side of his wrist. "Overall, good. Perhaps my stone's judged me fit for some safety precautions this time." He let the drying hair fall from his talons with a shake of his arm. "The mane is thin- it may prove useful in protecting attacks there. Otherwise, I don't feel anything particularly different, other than what you can see." He wiggled his body as if he was exploring new skin.

He stepped forward, though, assessment complete. "How are the chrysalises? No changes?" They looked as big as ever, especially with Vargas's dwarfing the others. There was also that oily one he'd wanted to mention- his eyes were right on it- but... One thing at a time.

Of course, Hemlocke would cow at the idea of lying, its fear easily taking over. Not Desert- not the champion who'd built his life on it. Instead, Desert only stood with his head high as Vargas stared down, looking back with an unassuming face.

Of course they were lying. Of course Vargas would know. Of course Vargas would raise his voice, his words echoing hard around the three of them.

Perhaps this was a fitting punishment for Hemlocke. Let it worry on what may happen, what could have happened. A lack of punishment in this case was just sentencing it to devise an even greater one for itself. Well played, Overseer. Of course, the warning was there for him as well, but he leaned towards pushing it in the back of his mind for him to mull over later, with things he could have said.

Desert's wing-claws flexed as Vargas turned. He had to twist, somewhat, and step aside to look past him, watching the unmoving chrysalis.

The title rang a bell. His memory, though, was leaky as is, and all it did was sound familiar to him. "I've heard of her." His voice was at its normal volume, yet soft in tone. He was preoccupied with digging in the files of his brain, lost papers corrupted to the sands of time.

Training new creations sounded excellent, though. "She would prove to be a useful asset in these times, then, sir." If she decided to emerge. What had that Merchant done to wake the champions up all those cycles ago? It was faulty nonetheless- there were still some chrysalises closed as far as he was aware.

He wondered who they contained. He couldn't remember the trial he'd run directly before the last. They must all be from that one, right? He... Didn't actually know what had caused him to retreat to his chrysalis. That was concerning.

Perhaps he could find someone to teach him some spells to look into his past. But, for now, they could do with some other older beings in these caves that aligned with their cause. He couldn't imagine what she looked like. If she shared the Overseer's stone, they must be similar, right?