Vargas had no idea where Selenite had gone in the interim--the gap of space between the failing Sentinels and the Draco Forge--but it had, judging by its guttural growl, turned utterly feral. Fierce, and seemingly without regrets, too.

He'd have been pleased--impressed--by its progress; not that it was Forge, it didn't need to be. But it was a far cry from those... well, crying, in the ring.

He would have been pleased, if watching it walk away after sticking the owl's gemstone in his mouth hadn't felt like someone tearing something important away. A sense of loss struck him; not frustration, really. The stone had been won fairly. But it was some hint, some inkling, of something greater than he was, and something he'd had a part in.

So he'd have been pleased on Wolfsbane's behalf if he hadn't been staring at its retreating form in utter horror.

He hadn't, though, wanted to revive it. If the Selenite had come back with a new creature he'd have probably killed it just for the stone. He hadn't gotten a good luck at it, no--but he'd have taken it to someone to examine its past. Intently. Even if he had seen it, had known it for the real thing.

Who knew what secrets it held?

Or was it just some empty joke..?

With a grunt, he dropped back into his seat, glancing at Vakornol close by. "Well, that one's become a little shit," he observed, tone dry with humor that he didn't remotely feel.