The familiar steps of Praetor limbs was soothing to him, and he closed his eyes as he listened, laying his head atop the neck-joint of his mount. There was peace in the long travel- while he was eager, yes, he was also patient. There was no need to rush things.

When they returned to Mother, Pallas blearily opened his eyes and flicked his ears, raising his head to look over his Butler's. Ahh, Mother. He smiled warmly, so, so pleasant to have be truly cleansed now. Glancing down, he took in the spread before him, sniffing lightly as he descended from the butler. His gratitude was palpable- oh, Mother, how could you be so kind? This was for him, for her son, and the rolling emotion of pride- no, appreciation, flowed through him.

"Mother," he breathed out when he heard his name, reverently taking it into himself. It was who he was, at his core- Mother's first drone, her first child to be elevated by her. As he took soft steps onto the wool, he pawed at it gently, feeling its gentle, warm surface.

With no circling, no preparation, he laid down and curled his paws under himself, eyes on the food. Oh, how he was hungry... Gingerly, he took the pristine mouse, listening to Mother's excited talk as he carefully extracted the meat from bone, carefully preserving each part so as to not stain the rug below him.

A swallow, and he looked up to his Mother, attention fully on her now that he had filled his mouth with something. "I feel--" He took a deep breath. How could he put it into words..? Perfect, divine, ever so grateful for his Mother. "I feel clean." The attachments of worry, of an overactive mind, the working and working had been scrubbed clean from him. He had direction before, but now he had a smooth lane to go over, and, for once, he felt truly at peace.

"If I am to speak for you, then I will be your Speaker. To speak of your wisdom and direction, your love..." 'it would be the greatest pleasure of all.' Where his words failed, his mind supplemented thoughts, as though it was too much to bear to say out loud. After all, his thoughts belonged to her, didn't they? There was much they could do now, too...

But, for now, Pallas resumed eating, focusing on one thing at a time. There was no need for rush. For now, he simply basked in his own refreshed self, filling this new body with energy for the future.

"Pallas Drone." His name. "Zero Zero One Speaker." His title. A moment of clarity was opened, along that link--ancient voices speaking similar phrases.

'Five One Three is Gatherer. One Oh Two is Watcher. Zero One Six's purpose is Cleaner...' and on went the list, a soft hum of history that came and went through the shared subconscious.

The pulsating mass that was Mother shifted before him, clawed limbs drawing slightly inward, upward, as she settled more upright. "You may return here whenever you wish." Knowledge: she would ensure he was not followed. "When you are ready for your work... we will decide... how we will proceed. There is much to do..."

How much of their conversation did he remember-? Mother would go over some of it again--her cold and ordered logic laying out their plans, the consequences, the rewards--if only briefly. But Pallas had slept: stepped into the forge of Order and emerged perfected, and if he had forgotten some--if it felt to him like an old dream--she would speak of it again. But in the meantime, she extended her welcome here. He could come here, and he could rest. Or--and this knowledge came to him in a flood, without words--he could choose a den of his own making, and even the Praetors would help him build and guard it, provided it was underground.

@Pallas

His name, his title- he accepted these truths instantly, embracing them as him. More were revealed to him, more numbers, more designation, and these too were stored in his mind. He had fallen into place. This was his place.

He would be delighted to return. He would return for her council, for her words, and for his work. Work- yes, he remembered it, and he listened to her brief recap, stowing away her words. They must gather their army, or create it. The gems, then. They held life, but they did not know what would be within. A backup risk, then, if the others were incapable of giving their own.

And what would be best for them..? Bone's magic and size were favorable, while Catalyst was a dutiful sibling, and Morpho was a supersized, impressive mantis. Bone and Catalyst were similar, and that would be good- they have worked together before, and perhaps the positive relationship would flourish in a child's personality. Could personalities be manipulated like this?

And, Yellow- he did not want to propose this idea to Yellow just yet, as, in his mind, they were fresh to Mother's influence. He did not want them to curate any regrets- perhaps he would ask as he would the others, but he would not make a major deal of it. For now, they must preserve that optimism with them.

It was some time as he settled himself in, stretching out his limbs. He had completed his meal and resorted to organizing the rest of the pile, placing it back to neatness, just as he found it. It was a way to busy his body as his mind rolled these ideas around. Bone and Catalyst, Morpho with, perhaps, Bone? Pallas and Yellow, perhaps- but, again, he was hesitant on pushing it with them. And those gems, still- it would be a gamble, but it would mean more for them without pushing their combined magics.

And what of the ones that-- dragon? The ones he had gathered in the tunnel by Hydra? Were they still there? Was he still there? It had been so long ago, and he didn't trust the Bonebound to not confront him. Perhaps, he could convince them he meant no harm- he no longer had fungus on him, after all. Yes, there was that, too- approaching others, establishing a point of positive contact. The Forge had seen him, and he was not violent with them. There was the Seven, then, and the Bonebound- what other groups existed? If he could become known as a benevolent creature, then it would be all that easier to infiltrate and bring others to their side. The Children of Rot may not accept him, not after the battle in Cetus.

It was a long time until he finally spoke. "If we create children of our own, it would be best to focus on them first. They will take time to grow, after all. But, we do not need everyone's involvement in them." He resettled again. "While we raise our own, we can perform safer endeavours- gathering the lonely, the young to our sides, while avoiding those who recognize us. There was that dragon, as well, who had gathered gems- but, I don't know if they're there, anymore."

He shook his head. "I believe that I'd like to check there, in the tunnel to Hydra, and in the swamp, for the discarded gems. I will need some method of carrying them, though a bag will not be hard to create. I would also like to propose potential pairings of my current siblings to them- it will be their choice if they wish to participate."

And, as for a den- it was a pleasant idea, but he had been gifted one by Mother before, hadn't he? Perhaps he could utilize the Praetors for some form of nursery, then- keep the children close, keep a good eye on them, and raise them within the outer confines of the nest.

"It's... Not a lot to begin with. But, it will be a start. I would also like to rest before searching- this new magic feels different, and I would like to explore its confines before proceeding once I've rested." His paws tapped together as he spoke. "What do you think of this plan?"

(I call this post: Pallas doesn't know when to stop thinking)

Approval trickled in a quiet drip-feed. These were wise ideas, Mother thought--and Pallas would know her thought: each carefully considered suggestion was met with wordless agreement. Nothing more was needed bar Mother's cooperation and support, and she offered that.

"As you say... you will do. They are good ideas, my Speaker," she clicked to him, and wasn't that a soothing sound? Rhythmic and snapping in symmetrical echoes off the symmetrical walls of the cave...? Perfection, auditory perfection. "For your travel, your search... Bone could accompany you, carry you. Wings are safer... but she will draw more attention. If you prefer... to make the journey more quietly... I will send our smaller brothers and sisters... to carry what you find. Those mice, and rats, and birds, that live throughout the caves. It is... your choice," she added--and with that came the understanding, implicit and clear, that he needn't even decide right now. He could, of course, but when the time came, she could accept his choice even if they were miles apart.

@Pallas