Grishia listened intently, her eyes narrowing as she fought to take in every word despite her limited understanding. And then she concentrated on trying to connect what Vestyge had said with her equally limited experience. With innocent authority, she tried to form that connection: "My mom says we have to be nice when we kill our food." She thought about this, a hand absently reaching out to stroke her silent bone creature. "That we shouldn't. Uhhh. Be mean about it."

That gaze fixed on Vestyge, sharp. "You weren't mean about it, right?"

'Life is the complicated part' was a lesson to take to heart, though. Something she'd probably remember, despite being far too young to truly grasp the truth of it just yet. Her gaze grew more contemplative as she studied the Valkhound before her--even concerned. There was no realization she was talking to a killer. Or--she understood that he'd taken lives, but maybe not that they were Greater, or that she herself could be in danger. He seemed nice to her. So she asked him: "Are you okay?"

As if more concerned for his potential trauma than the lives he might have taken.

@Vestyge

Though he tried to keep his language simple, it was clear that not all of what he was saying was going to sink in. But it was hard for Vestyge to care too much about it. Not his kid, not his responsibility, et cetera.

He tried to widen his eyes in mock-shock and disbelief at Grishia's suspicion. He mostly managed to puff up a little, apparently offended. He could was allowed a little fun, as a treat. "I was not."

He shifted back, settling. "But others were. I'd just... Clean up the messes they left." And messes they were.

They found themselves studying each other for a moment. Vestyge wasn't sure what was happening behind those small, cold blue eyes. Maybe a lot. Maybe nothing at all. He wasn't expecting her next question for him, but the answer came swiftly. "Yes." And he believed it to be the truth.

He returned the favour, his head tilting slightly. "Are you?"

@Grishia

Some of them were mean. She had no context for this, no thread of experience to grant her some horrors that might revisit her in nightmares or the like. It was cold information, tucked away for later.

Her eyes refocused on Vestyge, and she nodded. "Yes." So small, but so certain. An ear flicked as she thought about all of this. They were... having a conversation. Hanging out. Making friends, maybe? She could only hope. But she was a child and really didn't know how to do socialization, so she thought about what she would want. ...She didn't know that, either, she realized. So maybe--what she could offer?

Grishia looked around. "Do you want to do another bone?" she asked him.

@Vestyge

Vestyge blinked slowly, all three pairs of eyes moving at slightly different intervals, taking a pause of his own. Vestyge didn't have friends - he had acquaintances. He had conversations. The maintenance of any kind of partnership was to be avoided until it was absolutely necessary.

It would be much the same here. He wouldn't come back to Canis looking for Grishia, and besides, it'd probably be weirder if he did. She had a family, a faction. He had... Well, he had a job to do. That was enough for him. But there was a twinge of concern for her future, if only how he might affect it.

Vestyge might've looked identical to one, worked with, for and alongside them - but he wasn't a monster. He didn't want to traumatise this kid. But he'd done a shit job avoiding it so far.

He didn't have to care that bad about it, long term. "Sure."

@Grishia

Grishia nodded somberly and stood. She set aside the little skull--and then changed her mind after a moment's visible thought, instead picking it up, then toddling fearlessly to Vestyge's MASSIVE claws. She paused for a moment as she stared at them--maybe making a connection, maybe not--and then set the skull at his feet. As if it belonged to him.

Then she turned and wandered off a few paces, picking through other bones. After a moment she lifted a tiny... leg bone? Front, rear, she wasn't sure. She was still learning how skeletons were put together, which was only complicated by the fact that Gembounds (and the Valkhounds of old) didn't really follow the same rules in terms of "how many limbs do we have?" and the like.

She then trundled back to Vestyge, sitting back down a couple feet in front of him, and squinted.

Her hand absently stroked the bone as though it were a cat. It fell still as her magic sparked outward, threading a tentative link to it, and to its past: a link that sank the cave around her into seeping darkness. Night. Someone was calling for help; this creature was hesitating. The owner of these bones.

"It's dark out." Her voice was soft as she began narration, and held a tremor as she continued, because whoever was calling--it was awful to hear. A voice, filled with terror despite its weakness. Thrilled through with pain. It was... desperation. "Someone's calling for help. It sounds... Bad." She did not have the vocabulary to truly do it justice. She tried, as she stared off at nothing, her hand returning to petting the bone, as though for comfort. "He's--I think it's a he. Brown. And black. Fur. I can see his front legs, like I'm--OH." The exclamation was startled, and she flinched, hard. Then blinked, looking up at Vestyge.

"Uhh. ...He's dead." Then she looked at the bone. "I mean-... already. In the--vision? He went toward the voice and--something with a lot of green glowing things jumped on him." She didn't know about Vargas; about the Overseer-turned-Master, about his use of the spell Mimicry to draw in rebels by imitating the very real voices of his previous victims. She just knew this guy had suddenly died, so fast she'd not seen how it had really happened. Or maybe it was her magic, blessedly flickering out at the moment of impact. It had been a weak cast.

Grishia eyed Vestyge. Then his claws. Then she looked around, at all the bones. Still she seemed to drift back toward 'fearless.' "...Was it scary, being here? Back then?" she asked. Admittedly her sample size was "death," but it seemed like Canis was the place you just came to die.

rolled on discord to see what sort of thing she'd see! @Vestyge

Vestyge took a moment to stretch as Grishia toddled towards whatever bone had caught her eye. He pushed his forearm's outward from where he sat, flexing each finger. He studied his talons for a moment, before settling again - by the time he was finished with his idle animation, she'd returned with a very small bone. Too small for Vestyge to identify - he fancied that he could've, if he could see it better.

She made for a frustrating medium, even if she couldn't help it. But that itch was small, easily discarded. Patience was a skill he'd had thousands of years to practice - he had, by the way, practiced it. Unlike basic combat training.

The description of the death was... Standard. Not enough information to really glean anything, aside from who maybe killed him. Vestyge had known a few creatures that'd glowed green, but he felt like a lot of Valkhounds shared that trait.

Vestyge did not have the emotional intelligence to notice how witnessing brutal murder for his benefit might've been affecting Grishia.

"Not here. Not a lot of the time, at least. Sure, parts were plenty scary, but if you were smart," Like him, "You could live... Apart from all of it, most of the time. I just did what I was asked to. Got further than some of the others."

He paused, looking down at Grishia and the bone in her paws. He gestured to it with a claw. "Got further than that guy."

@Grishia