She'd been missing, the last time he had come; and so now he was back, stalking along the top ledge of her bone pit like an overgrown spider. "SPOTTED DOG!" he bellowed, this time; he'd look again for the Orthoclase once he was done, another halfhearted attempt, but for now he wanted this one. "BONE-READER."

He was not trying to be particularly rude, but he wasn't sure how else to address--or find--her. Her last prophecy had proven quite--well, prophetic. He wanted another; he wanted both to test her again, and to see what she might be able to tell him of his future.

Dark humor laced his tone as he turned, descending to the bone pit with a few neat leaps and strides. "Why, bone-reader, have you done something that might merit your execution? Anything you want to tell me?" He'd last seen her in Ursa; she'd wound up chrysalized, from what he'd been told, but later emerged unharmed. And, somehow, untainted. "I congratulate you on your escape from Ursa. I heard that the fungus did not ensnare you. I hope that turned out to be true." Now that would be grounds for execution; and his brief, level stare said as much.

"No, I am here for one of your readings. Please," he added, gesturing at the bones, but it was a command and not an invitation. "Your last was accurate! I would have another."

He ignored the way she stared up at him suspiciously, the way she flinched back just a little at his abruptly closer looming presence. He didn't care for such things, aside from to note them as "as it should be" and recognize that she bore a healthy dose of respect, or fear.

"I am making changes to the Forge. I want you to tell me how they will work out. The Forge being my people," he explained, pacing along behind her as she made her way to the Pit. "And," as an afterthought, "can you tell me where to find Orthoclase-Alpha?"

Tahi-shei-? The thought flickered through his mind, at first simply puzzling, and then a little alarming. Had the deer made some sort of bargain with the fungus, with Dontacael itself-? And beyond that--had he perhaps sabotaged the entire assault? Could that be? The struggle with Draconua, he thought, but before he could think further on this (not that he wouldn't tuck it away for later, of course) Giggle was beginning her reading.

Vargas, of course, was no fool. It didn't take long for him to swim from the sudden sense of surreal and drowning dread that was suddenly infusing him, long enough to at least realize that it was unnatural. He wasn't sure what could be causing it, though, and when he reached out his magic senses, he found nothing.

Puzzled, slightly alarmed and faintly unsettled by the sudden shadows and chanting whispers, he waited at the bottom of the pit. There was a distinct unease in his posture as he glanced around. If not her, then what-?
Among the bones Vargas counted a thousand victims. Likely more. Did they still linger, somehow-? Did- ...Ahh, but she was speaking; and he struggled to focus, to concentrate on her booming words. He could look into the weird... ghostliness... later, he supposed. Protection? From Lord Dhracia? Perhaps this other Hand? He tucked this all away--not as fact, of course, but as possibility--and listened to the rest.

Hm.
At least the strange red light, the echoing voice, was fading; and he stared up for a moment. "What was that?" he demanded, at once; "That light, that noise. The whispers." His tone was loud, insistent. "And tell me of Orthoclase-Alpha."

Confusion again flicked through him at a sudden sense of calm that roiled over him--an indifference. He felt, abruptly, as though Giggle must be right; she certainly wasn't a threat of some kind. And if Vargas was confident in anything, it was his ability to jud-... Wait a moment.
Again, this time more suspiciously, his magic flickered out. This time he felt-... something. What was it-? That, he couldn't tell; only the edges of something brushed across his senses.

He was about to snatch a limb out, to grab her by the leg, to warn her off any magic. But the spores were insisting--powerfully--that it wasn't the hyena that was a threat. Vargas hesitated, the fungus and its magic vaguely confusing him. Surely she was only using the magic she had to, to read the bones-?

Six acid eyes narrowed, and he regarded the hyena's back. "You had best not be using magic on me, Bone Reader. You will regret it."

Yet despite the sincerity of the threat, there was no real conviction in it-... Surely it wasn't her?

Vargas stared at the old hyena.

Maybe if he wasn't still under the effects of her lingering magic, he'd never have asked his next question--but he was, and he did not feel his usual wariness at being so blatant, so open, about the Forge's internal affairs. Anyway, she was like a doctor--wasn't she?--and you had to tell them everything, to get an accurate diagnosis.

Destruction? Reaping what it's sown..? Orthoclase-Alpha, what have you done?
"What do I need to do?" he asked her, almost hoarsely.

Surely this strange hyena, this random Gembound with no authority whatsoever (who claimed to speak to bones, no less) would know.

That logic, for whatever strange reason (hint: it was spores) seemed perfectly valid to Vargas right now.