Valethyr had kept to itself in the past few minutes, days, or weeks. It was difficult to tell the time where they were hatched, but he was slowly grasping the concept. There was much to be accustomed with in their brief time with the waking world, so it was a good thing they were a blank slate. Their brain was a canvas, and he was eager for Vargas to paint what they might become.

He was mostly curious about his ability to change ones element. The valkhound was still unfamiliar with any element that was not Corrupted - its own element. He was sure it would be obvious when it came across another who was not like himself, but it wasn't set in stone, was it? Valethyr would never know for sure until she stumbled across a stranger, but those were not in steady supply from within the womb.

To the young creature, Draco was home, and nothing more. The eerie too-bright-yet-too-dark lighting, the ever-shifting walls, the damp air all felt good on its skin. He felt a sense of belonging, of kinship with this place. It was brought into this world for a purpose. That alone made them feel accomplished, despite doing quite literally nothing in its short life. The very thought created an itch within the valkhound, one that grew every minute, every second.

Valethyr wanted to do something to make its creator proud. But, they could not leave the womb without first earning the privilege. And, to do such a thing, they had to accomplish something other than merely hatching. It was a cautious thing, though, and did not want to agree to anything without knowing exactly what a challenge entailed. So, before deciding on anything, she wanted to find someone to spar with.

Gravedigger was an option, being the violence-driven sibling, but they had to find it first. Anyone would do, really. Valethyr paced the room with large, loud footsteps, with none of the grace they normally possessed. Why bother, if he wanted to be found?

Fenmyre's side scraped against Draco's walls, the jagged stone digging into her flank as she shuffled along the womb's passages. She felt the stone breath with, bleeding as she did when something inevitably caught and tore. What had started as a necessity had now become a ritual. She already knew the texture of the rock, every twist and turn. She was just pacing the length of her cage.

She heard him before she smelt him. Loud steps, but not heavy - or as heavy as hers. The scent reaching her nostrils was foreign. It was not mother, it was not sister. It was not the Master. (thankfully). She shifted her weight away from the wall, now focused on her approach. Her mouth was left slightly ajar.

She could taste the Oil on her tongue. She too, wanted to make her Creator proud.

Fenmyre's massive body framed the entrance to the clearing, half in shadow. She made no noise, no introduction - she was easy to miss. But her mind stretched outward through unseen threads, reaching reaching reaching - Let me in. Let me see.

"This is speaking." This is thinking. This is corruption.

@Valethyr
what is in your brain son. *peels you*

Valethyr feels her before he sees her; a foreign presence in its mind, probing insistently like she deserved whatever was going on inside the other valkhound. It was alien enough to make the creature pause in its pacing laps around the room, blinking its one, massive eye around the small space. It had never felt anything like this before. Not quite fearful, but not quite at ease with whoever was in its brain... it was a sensation like no other.

Valethyr didn't quite welcome the presence, but it did not know how to expel any unwanted presences within his mind, nor the same spell so they might share a connection. It would have to be one-way, then.

The young gembound shivered when he finally spotted her bright red head - or was it more of a skull? Bone exposed to the humid air, the rest of her obscured by the murky lighting of their home. She was massive, much bigger than Valethyr, which only heightened their intrigue. Who was this? Did she have a name, like herself and her siblings, or was she one of the many who had to earn such a privilege?

And, most importantly, could Valethyr use her in his quest to prove himself?

The valkhound rearranged its wings neatly, unaware of the other's complete lack of eyes. They could tell she was Chaos Forge - she smelt strongly of Oilstone and home, but that only answered one of Valethyr's many questions. "That's one way of making an impression," he mused, staring at her with no attempt to hide his curiosity. "Do you have a name?" They had yet to judge if a name meant if someone was interesting or boring, strong or weak. This should help some.

@fenmyre

Fenmyre took a moment to languish in the mind of someone new, yet still the same. Same taste of Oil, the twisting of it as it snaked its away through his blood stream, his essence, lifeblood circling round and round again. The viscera surrounding her, both of them, tensed in discomfort... Not fear, not yet. She'd overstepped, but she had not betrayed.

She found little in Valethyr, aside from their shared intrigue and corruption. There was an underlying energy here that Fenmyre lacked. An impulsivity that she could not afford. We could teach him how to fear.

A project for long term. Her spell held true, the connection not yet broken. He could not close himself off to her yet.

Her jaw cracked open as she spoke, saliva bubbling at the back of her throat. "The Howling Morass."

"FFFenmyre."

"This is speaking." This is thinking. This is corruption.

@Valethyr

So, she had a name. Two, actually. Valethyr assumed she had three, only because they did. A number he would have been called if not for his birthright. It dismissed the namesake as useless, but since it was not freely given by this valkhound, Fenmyre, it wanted to know. However, he was not so immature to merely ask for it. He was a creation made by Vargas, after all. There may be a reason why she did not speak of it. Perhaps she was ashamed...

"Valethyr, the Absolver." He followed, watching as the spit bubbled from Fenmyre's jaw. A defect, or was this an intended trait? Not every gembound could be created with such intention, he mused. Valethyr, Virosa and Gravedigger could be some of the lucky few.

For a moment, it wondered if speaking was painful for the other valkhound. If only they knew the matching spell, they could pry her open for secrets, just as she was doing to them.

@fenmyre

She'd encountered those who'd been reduced to designations in her cycles prior. Curiously, and unlike the rest of Vargas' brood, this one had been given a name. Had he earned it through his service to their false Master? Or had he been born worthy, as Fenmyre and her sister had?

But of course he'd been born with it. She could feel it rolling off the walls of his brain, like the first word he'd known. Something that the Master had only been brave enough to speak aloud. Valethyr had a name. He had always had a name.

From Rrevalk's womb, we sprout. Fenmyre, Cavallys and-

"Valethyr." Her head twisted sideways as she sought for purchase deeper within his marrow, still managing to hold her ground despite her inexperience. The connection wavered, but it did not break. She felt his judgement like a high, irritating whine.


Now she pressed him, her thoughts over his. Her teeth clicked against each other. I was created with His voice ringing in my ears. Were you?
A contest that Fenmyre knew she'd win.

"This is speaking." This is thinking. This is corruption.

@Valethyr

"Yes," he confirmed, a little sarcasm dripping into his words. It was hard to get a read on this one. With no face to make expression, and an obvious difficulty to speak (or so it seemed), Valethyr's inexperience was showing. It was hard to duel with words when one had not spoken much to anyone at all in their short life, much less duel with ones mind.

Her one, green eye narrowed as the hold on her mind tightened. He heard Fenmyre within his head. Now, they werent too sure if they wanted to welcome her into their brain like they did not moments before. It wasn't as if they were upset about their thoughts being read, but they were used to their mind being their own. Not shared, like this.

"Voice? What do you mean?" She would have to be more specific than that. There were lots of whispers floating about, perhaps she meant Vargas...?


sry for the wait on this aaah

That hold, a gentle squeeze, now twisted with a newfound strength as Fenmyre sunk deeper and deeper into Valethyr's marrow. Perhaps this one's chattering had finally provoked her, though her ignorance had done much the same, and with greater effect.

Her body took a step towards her's, the array of talons on her massive fore-paw scraping against Draco's stone. In time with this, her mind pushed forward, an unpleasant pressure building in the other Valkhound's skull. "You don't know?

There was an ugly, purple shadow over this conversation. He, the lesser, obscuring the truth, their shared truth. This would not - could not do. The anger on the behalf of her creator rose, Fenmyre's edges burning.

Vargas may have given you shape, contained you to one body and mind. He did not create you. He could never. You have been lied to.

"This is speaking." This is thinking. This is corruption.

@Valethyr

The pressure doubled, tripled, even. Valethyr's huge mouth twisted in a snarl, and they resisted the urge to thrash their body, trying to escape the presence in their mind. He was not a coward. He could endure this.

Fenmyre seemed upset, that much it could tell. Did she insult her imaginary god, or was Valethyr simply ignorant? Impossible. Vargas would not have left something as important as their creator out of his teachings. The valkhound huffed, unable to supress the shudder of discomfort. It was getting difficult to pretend like the throbbing in their brain wasn't affecting them.

"Vargas would have told me. Why would he lie to his own spawn?" Although Valethyr tried, it could not keep the strain out of its voice.