- THE LEVIATHAN -

He felt--sensed--the faint coil of Chaos. He reached for it with his own power, and felt it--yes, the Valkhound was doing something, something roiling with unseen shadows. But he could not tell what, or what it was directed at: only that it was using it. He noted that it seemed calm, and that was a bonus; surely it would not be a threat? It seems controlled. And if I don't know its origins, maybe it was purpose-built. Common sense warred briefly with the cat's magic, and lost.

"It is using its magic--I don't know what for," he told Aethril--he didn't ask it of the cat directly, didn't demand. Aethril had claimed it; it was hers to address... or not.

"I will send my Overseer as soon as it returns. And yes--it will be up to the task, though I'd like to assess it myself first. When time permits. Do you want either myself or the Sentinel to accompany you back?" It was a businesslike question, and brisk; he hadn't failed to note the edge in Aethril's voice--he'd expected it, really, and accepted it--but he felt now that this strange little gathering was coming to its end.

Voices, like music, pulled at her ears and threaded through her mind. Again she revelled in the difference between them--one soft (if hard-edged, now, like water freezing into blades); one deep and rumbling. She was lost in it, for the moment, mesmerized by sound, and too by the fingers drawing nails along her skull. The frontal plate--a ridge guarding her face--was still plush with black velvet, and she felt every brush along it, along her skull itself, between the ears, before the protruding vertebrae...

Her eyes had slipped shut, shutters drawn on teal windows, until Vargas spoke of her magic. Then they snapped back open, regarding him almost balefully. He knows. But how-?

Black hooked claws unsheathed, gripping the rock beneath her as she stared up at him. Inspiration. Haughty. Divine. Eyes dropped back to half-mast, smirk twisting whiskered muzzle, hind limbs pushing her back to an upright stance. Shadows coiled around her, smoking, hazy; this magic did not feel dipped in His touch but it was ink-stained nonetheless.

"My magic," (and knowledge of it flickered up, bubbling from those divine commands, from inbuilt and inherent instructions) "will be used appropriately." This, she told Vargas; and the haughtiness she felt touched her voice so lightly, a butterfly's flutter of superior indifference.

From the smoky shadow, glowing eyes swept to take in Aethril once again--almost beloved, now, the welcoming embrace to Vargas's borderline accusation--and to her, she spoke again. "You will be... protected." And now there was sincerity, flickering up like black flame: this one was hers, claimed, her master and her carer. It was an unhealthy claim. Unpossessive--but perhaps it would become so; but it was an expansion of responsibility toward something that she liked. A shiny trinket, on a shelf; a bauble she admired. Aethril held beauty in her, and so for now, she would ensure the Hand came to no harm.

Never mind the power gap. Obieth knew nothing of it. She did not care. So far as she was concerned, everything would go her way; if it seemed to veer off-course, why, she would simply change it.

@Aethril

Aethril's gaze darted downwards to Obieth, but she wasn't necessarily concerned about what she was using her magic for as much as she was concerned about-- "try not to tire yourself out too fast," she told her, honed edge gone from her tone for now.

Her lips were curling upwards as Obieth spoke, however, with encouraging amusement-- at least, not verbally encouraging. She'd have to teach her about talking back to Masters, but that was an issue if Obieth were alone, not while she was here with her.

The Hand's attention was honing back on Vargas as her fingers lifted from the Valkhound's head, clasping over in front of her again. "I look forward to seeing them," she said, and this was quite genuine-- she remembered the kitten in her lap and it occurred to her at once that this was yet another thing she had missed while she'd been asleep; the quiet companionship of a cat offered by a warm fire.

A little sigh lurched from her nose. "We will be fine, thank you, Vargas," she said, stepping aside with a click of a shoe. "It was nice to meet you. I hope I can see more of your work soon."

She smiled faintly and turned-- "this way, Obieth" --to click her way out of Draco.

exit maybe? @Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

It was with a lingering sense of unease--reluctance, even--that he stepped away. Hesitation laced his movements, but he obeyed.

He was conditioned to.

"As you wish. I will likely be in Draco if I am required." He didn't ask if he should answer to her. Her rank was higher. She answered to the Creator. That was explanation enough.

But his mind was racing: there would be much to do if another Hand was here, watching, now. Instead of simply visiting, now and then.

If that is what it takes to spur me into action then I have been lax, he decided; perhaps it was for the best that this new Hand would be here.

He stepped back--one step, another--and waited, patient, for them to depart. It was not his place to walk away first.

exit Vargas

Glowing eyes lifted to meet Aethril's own as the little tidbit of advice was given. Obieth took it in, hid it away, though she gave it little consideration for now. In the manner of a child--though her mind was far more adult--she did not truly believe it; she had yet to exhaust herself, and so she couldn't fully conceptualize the idea.

She did not, however, use her magic again; instead her tail gave a little twitch of acknowledgement, and nothing more. She simply stood, obedient, ready, and waiting; and when Aethril began to click, click her way across the rock. Obieth was quick to follow. To come up alongside the Valkhand.

What a fine elevation, indeed, her very first hour of hatching-! Though she could not know that she had just, quite by chance, allied herself with perhaps the highest-ranking being present, she felt confident about her choice. Soft paws--claws now retracted--paced alongside the heels, and one ear flicked to listen to the pleasant, rhythmic clicking.

Something about it--almost more than the soft thudding of Draco--reminded her of the beating of a heart.

exit Obieth
@Aethril for visibility