Alpha was antsy and trying desperately to keep itself busy, as per usual. Now, what that entailed was a variety of things; chief among them, right now, was searching for Lessers to give to Doctor. That was current official orders, and the monstrous child'd gone out of its way to be a little overachiever (as usual.) It'd presented several tunnel runners to the rather eager vulture, all temporarily paralyzed through magically-produced venom (see, Alpha takes notes from what you say, Vargas.)

After the first three or so deer, though, Alpha figured that was enough for now and set itself on other tasks. Those were taking phat naps and finagling with magic some more.

So, there's the stage set for its current antics: the orthoclase waited precisely until the orbs had dimmed a little for the sleep cycles, yawning awake and scuffling quietly out of the warren (by, of course, shaking off no less than five other initiates and small creatures.) It immediately turned off towards the far end of the tunnel. Alpha didn't move too far, though - just enough to get centered from either side.

Quills click!ed and clack!ed against one another as it lowered its head and shook them out. One meaty claw dug at the earth, squaring off. Alpha rocked back slightly, as if preparing to pounce. Its acid-glow grew brighter for a moment, gearing up for this new nightly ritual: a full sprint down the corridor and a loping walk back, purely for the purpose of growing sleepy again and maybe building up endurance for longer, faster runs.

Except, this time - it had a little boost of magicka.

It jolted forwards, giving a soft screek! as the tunnel's winds seemed to catch under its limbs. Alpha tried to go stiff-legged, but it was almost as if the wind guided its steps. Already large strides turned into nearly bounding leaps as it careened down the hall's length, tongue lolling out and breath coming in hot, vaporous puffs. It pushed and pushed right until Canis's entrance came into view; at which point, it dropped its bottom half and dug thick talons into the stone.

Alpha just barely dismissed all of the momentum it had, jerking forwards a little - rather than the usual chin-smacking jolt of stopping suddenly when the body wanted to keep moving. It remained in that exact place and pose, exoskeletal sides heaving with each breath full of subdued exhilaration. Any chase could be made shorter with that.

Alpha's tongue lolled out, acidic-green drool slopping off in droves from it and between its altogether too-many teeth. It hung its head, continuing to pant and breathe heavily - right up until its name was called. That bassy boom drew its posture straight (even though the motion stifled its clear attempts at getting that sweet oh-two.)

Right there, of course, was the Overseer, looking fairly confused on his part. Alpha's head swung to and fro despite it not being sure what either of them were looking for. A stray rebel, maybe? Not a trace.

"What are you doing?"

"Running," it stated plainly, not entirely intending to be Captain Obvious. The orthoclase settled a little further back on its haunches, quills rattling, "I'm using magic to run faster. Good for - hunting, maybe? I could end a chase faster." Alpha craned its neck to stare up at Vargas, standing and plodding forwards a few steps. "It's something to do before I go back to sleep." Too much talk, not asked for.

So, it summarized: "just training by myself."

The orthoclase seemed to perk up at the idea of not training by itself in the middle of the night. It gave its jaws one last swipe of the tongue before standing, quills rattling up in muted excitement and preparation to do something. Acidic green eyes narrowed (the best way it could really furrow a brow in consideration, really) as it mulled over the options.

Alpha came to a decision fairly quickly - mostly because hunts were primarily why it was so bored and finding itself having to run for fun. Sparring with something bigger than it would be infinitely more enlightening.

So, it proclaimed: "I'd like to spar - fight!"

Already preparing, it trundled off a few feet and squared up. Quills clicking against one another with ill-concealed enthusiasm, it watched and listened attentively for... well, whatever first move the Overseer would make.

Vargas came at it quickly (why shouldn't he!) and the orthoclase responded immediately by recoiling back, bracing for an impact that'd never come. It tucked its head into its quills, the tips flopping up past its face as the skin of its neck rolled. When he bounced back, feinting, Alpha belatedly picked up what he was putting down. A test.

When the purple behemoth made his second approach, Alpha attempted to recoil in the opposite direction: springing forwards with (hopefully) enough agility to snag its teeth around the Overseer's forearm. It didn't want to bite down too hard, but just enough to maintain a firm grip. Perhaps that holding back was obvious. If it didn't flounder pitifully, it'd drop its weight down onto its lower half - a bit like a terrier with a rope toy.

Of course... it snapped down on empty air and stumbled forwards, having drastically miscalculated the time. Precious few seconds were lost as it tried to shake it off and brace for any retribution.

Alpha watched as its Overseer began to circle it, trying and failing for a few moments to shuffle on the spot. It wanted to keep facing Vargas - as he'd predicted - because that was, of course, where most of the pointy bits were. Glowing-bright eyes narrowed as it realized it couldn't feasibly keep up. Adjusting, it instead tried to twist its neck around and track where he was.

Maybe if I - and it started to step backward while the purple behemoth was in front of it.

It hadn't been quick enough, though - that same big mass started to hurtle towards it. Alpha's immediate reaction was to swing in that direction, all snapping teeth and brute force. Following that impulsive movement, it noted again that Vargas was far too fast for it. It wouldn't get a bite in while he was still approaching.

Well... it could try to take the hit, right?

The orthoclase spread out its limbs, curling its claws into the dirt. When the inevitable impact came, it leaned away from the sheer force of it - both unintentionally and intentionally - and tried to keep its feet planted on the ground. In any real battle, no matter how armored it was, it'd be dead knocked onto its back. Alpha was well-aware of how much trouble it had getting off of its back.

In a horrific twist of fate, it overcompensated and sent itself stumbling ass-first onto its side. Clearly, it was unused to picking on someone its own size. With a series of annoyed grunts, it tried to scramble onto its stomach and get back up again - but that was a matter of having enough time to get enough footing.