Worth the risk, he called it. Worth something, anything, Lord Dhracia had hoped; both gift and curse, at least it was better than the stagnancy of ignorance. But Lord Dhracia wondered often if she would have been happier ignorant. If she should have just died the first time.

Her lashes lowered, a sober hum following Master Vargas' caveat. “You have my word,” she said. “I need you.”

Yes, Lord Dhracia might have been a snake, but even snakes had to eat and sleep and be safe in their den outside of slithering. What she spoke of was necessity. Reviewing her confession, Lord Dhracia couldn't identify any of it as a lie; if he suspected this to be treachery on her part, she intended completely to prove that it wasn't, no matter what it took.

Even if the first of her trials was to confront the internal despair of Master Vargas' subordinate. The Orthoclase--she remembered it--the one he had harmed to assert himself, the way Lord Dhracia harmed so many below her before. “I'll look into it,” said Lord Dhracia, although she wasn't entirely certain what it took to rehabilitate an abused dog when she was so often the unapologetically striking hand. She supposed that the road to redemption was paved with accountability for a reason.

The curtain of darkness slowly thinned. The glittering innate to her powers, holographic shimmer and prismatic exhalations, faded into translucence in the shade. As Lord Dhracia prepared to leave, the silver shine of her eyes, once evocative of something new, dulled again into pallid grey not unlike her mortal skin. His question made her smirk. “I was not seen.” Even now, raising the darkness and emerging once more into the atmosphere of Draco, she would guarantee that they were alone. Still, Master Vargas deserved his reassurances. “...But yes.” She trusted him to conceive of whatever lie necessary to protect their schemes.

Stepping away, Lord Dhracia turned her back to Master Vargas and mustered hissing oil at her feet. The darkness began to consume her. “Anticipate my return in a week's time,” she said, “and prime your eyes for daylight.”

And in a wisp of deep, black aether, Lord Dhracia was gone, leaving only glimmering dust in the voidlight.

Exit Lord Dhracia

- THE LEVIATHAN -

'I need you.' A tangle of emotions swept through him--not relief, never that. But the knowledge that such a phrase was intended to inspire trust--along with a thousand others of its ilk--bothered him. 'I need you.' 'Only you can help me.' 'You are special.' 'You're the one...' It was meant to be reassurance, he understood that--a pointing out of the logical. 'I need you, therefore, you are to be appeased, kept out of harm's way...' But they were words so often used to manipulate, to lose a creature in an awe for itself so great that it forgot to watch for its own safety and for the lies that might be cloaked by their perceived magnificence. Wariness hummed through him and in that moment, Vargas realized that he'd be spending the next few dozen cycles worrying.

He resolved, immediately, not to, and in his typically pragmatic way--as acid eyes picked out Lord Dhracia's departure in her shimmer and snap of void--he decided, too, to restrict such worrying to specific times of day. He could sit down, and think things over, and try to pick them apart and solve them himself--if needed--but not all the time, or it would drain him and destroy him. He had the self-discipline, at least, to shield himself from this through such a mundane and simple thing as scheduling.

Lord Dhracia was gone--even the sparks of glittering dust fading in her wake--and Vargas was left staring at nothing but empty Draco beyond.

Suddenly--as if his eyes had been replaced--it no longer looked like home, like the central chamber of a strong nest, despite all his efforts to reclaim it. No: it looked like a hellscape, to him, a cage and a trap, a corruptive darkness that would twist the lives of everyone caught within. Its potential for glory had been replaced by a dusty sadness, as if it had long outlived its worth.

Strange, he thought, what little tricks perspective can play.

And then--after a moment's debate on what to do now--he decided to go back to work.

exit Vargas