"Did the thing with hands, perhaps, have a body like mine is from the neck down? And violet skin?"

That look exactly - the orthoclase nodded and pondered for a moment: does she give fruit to everyone? Without discrimination? That explained her lack of... flight response. Too set on giving peaches to every Gembound she encountered. The rest of her clan hadn't been so amenable. Alpha wasn't offended.

It listened quietly as Pride gave an anecdote about an old friend, eyes narrowing in yet another confused squint. Body language opening up just so, it tilted its head a few degrees. "You... helped - her" (It got a little stuck on the pronoun there, but it managed.) "at your own cost." Vargas's advice to it during the snow-laden trials had stuck with it; it was expected to dispose of any one of its hatchmates, if they bled in shark-infested waters and had no more value to provide to it.

Another question of preferences, and another instinctive mental recoil at having to take time and - really dig deep for that. Long pause. "Canis has only rats," it reported, like that wasn't fairly known, "but sometimes I... go to the tunnel for the deer. More to eat. It all tastes the same." More or less, anyways. Sometimes a rat was just a little more rancid, either with disease or just caca.

Was it really a preference if it was just a matter of "more bang for your buck?"

It didn't really think much about announcing that it did prefer deer over other Lessers to one of a Greater variant.

@Pride

Pride was not particularly surprised at the deer thing, but the other part had him perking his ears forward. Now that was interesting, and he spotted at once the chance for a lesson; Orthoclase-Alpha's confusion at the mere notion of altruism was astonishing to him. But, arrogant though he was, he saw himself as in a perfect position to give unasked-for knowledge, to try and offer the creature perspectives it perhaps did not yet have.

...And he was pretty sure that this thing, then, had met Vivilene.

"I think you met my granddaughter, then. I hope she is well," he added, mildly, hoping that the creature had not frightened her too badly--or worse. If she'd given it peaches, he hoped that Alpha had been mollified away from doing whatever the hell he'd done to terrify James, at least, or that sort of thing.

He also wondered if it would be confused, miffed, or perhaps indifferent at the proof that others did, in fact, reproduce freely.

In any case; on to the lessons, such as they were, after a brief pause to finally re-raise the damn shield (and what had been interfering with that..? How strange...). "As for my helping my friend--ahh, she preferred rats, though perhaps for obvious reason." Eating deer in front of deer, and all that. "Though she was fairly small, and so I am unsure if she could have eaten even a cave deer. In any case, I can explain the altruism; if you wish to look at it logically, it hardly inconvenienced me, certainly did not put me in much danger, provided me with useful training of my own when I had little else to do, and gained me an ally, in a sense--or strengthened her bond with me, in any case. But," he added, and this was pointed, intent, "There are other reasons to help, even at great cost to oneself."

"If you wish to hear the philosophical reason," and he didn't wait in case of a 'no,' "we live our lives and then we die, and are no more. This life, this one existence, is all that we have; and I see little point in either cowering through it, avoiding all that could be interesting, or serving only myself. If we were all this way--helping only ourselves, and never one another--we would all, as a whole, grow much less. Learn much less. We would all be more miserable, competing constantly, never a chance to rest; fighting, killing, dying sooner. Perhaps it's also practicality, in a sense; but enforcing cooperation and peace makes a better life for all of us."

A pause, and he eyed Orthoclase; he thought that the creature would get point one easily enough, though it might disagree; and point two was fifty-fifty, in Pride's mind. There was still some logic, to that one. Point three, he felt, would go straight over its head but he was going to offer it anyway.

"She was also a friend, and I would have felt terrible simply leaving her there to die."

Ahh, but one could discuss morality; evolution toward social cooperation for the survival benefit of the whole; altruism as a survival benefit for group-based species... How free will was perhaps an illusion, how choices were programmed by genetics and reinforced by experience... but Pride knew nothing of these things. He only knew that he would have felt terrible leaving Aster behind to die, and that he felt good having aided her.

In truth perhaps one act was no more "good" than another, in terms of true motive--but Pride had not gotten onto such existential ponderings yet, and was blissfully still in the "one of these actions is bad, and one is good" stage of philosophy.

Which... might have been for the best, really. Orthoclase-Alpha might have been losing patience as it was.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

It knew, at least, what sons and daughters were — via Desert Rose on the off-chance they had a conversation. The addition of grand stumped it, though, and it gave another look of consternation before answering, "she is… from you?" There were enough vague similarities between their designs, but… what manner of being would Pride reproduce with to find hands? The spear-man? Hm. Acidic eyes darted down, tracing the topaz figurine, before adding quietly, "I did not hurt her. Or — scare. I don't think."

Alpha'd been tired and half-asleep, and that was the justification for it but…

Shaking itself lightly, the kaiju settled down a bit more to listen, even if the logic of Pride's action failed to compute as expected. Altruism was the word for it — an act of good made with no ulterior motive. It was impossible to act without a prior thought, unconscious or not. Alpha somehow stumbled on that philosophical gold-mine, but didn't tap any deeper. Not intentionally, anyways.

"You gained from it," it tried, "at no cost." Eyes narrowed, voice hesitant and plainly confused, "to feel good. That's… want? Not —" Here comes the brain meltdown. Alpha grunted in a poor attempt to articulate, and finally huffed, "you helped at no expense and gained nothing." A little backwards, considering it had just said that Pride gained something — and the orthoclase belatedly corrected itself on those not being worthwhile things to consider… achieved.

Pride gave the illusion of choice and snatched it away quick enough for the orthoclase to not get too broken-up about it. Its gaze fixed on him, and hardened slightly — "I don't cower, or avoid, or serve myself." Wrong takeway, but it couldn't help it. "Competing, killing, fighting… it's more efficient. Weeds out the weak. It proves what designs are good for later use." Alpha didn't stand up to hiss and spit in defense of its broken, fucked-up view of the world and how it should be. Its posture was relatively neutral. It was just safely regurgitating what it'd been told.

"She was also a friend, and I would have felt terrible simply leaving her there to die."

There's a word… friend. It mulled over it, the sound of it, its cadence. Vargas was not a friend to it, and neither were any of its littermates. Alpha set its jaw. Friendship required attachment it'd never allowed to happen except — glowing eyes went half-lidded. Vibbl— (The name hadn't stuck in its mind yet and it fumbled over it.) It stared at the figurine again. A gift — a token of friendship and kindness.

The orthoclase fluffed out its quills, a confounded grumble escaping it. Claws fit around the gemstone, and for a moment it wanted to hurl it halfway across Orion, as an oulet for that repressed sort of anger rising from so much… confusion? Disorientation? It tensed, holding it up again.

A long pause, quills bristling, and it… set the mini-Alpha down.

"I do not have… friends," it declared, picking its words carefully as if reporting to its Overseer. "I wouldn't — feel terrible if I left… others to die." Would it? "Except —" Alpha's eyes widened, and it hesitated conspicuously at announcing the conclusion it'd landed on. It's body tensed, as if spooked. "Except for… Vib— Vibbel— lene."

Its fruit-giver was… one of few.

@Pride

"Grandchild, yes," Pride confirmed, explaining: "She is from my son, my child. So she is the third in our line."

The stag listened, hiding any amusement, as Alpha tried on various coats of logic and then partially-reversed them. You gained, at no cost, followed closely by you helped at no expense, but gained nothing- and Pride smirked, just a little, in a good-natured manner. "I did something because I felt it was right, because I wanted to help, yes."

He listened to Alpha's... Justification? Explanation? Pride tilted his head, and spoke gently: "Mm, what designs are good for... what purpose, however? As fighters?" he hazarded, because that's certainly what this family looked like, to him; "What would you fight for, then? If not to protect that which is yours, or those that you care for; why would you fight? And what if there is no need for fighting?" His tone was not argumentative, but calm, patient; it was, as far as Pride was concerned, philosophical discussion. "What if something too big to fight comes along, and what is needed are... small designs? Which can hide, to survive? There is no way of knowing, is there?" Unless, of course, they were somehow proofing a thousand of these "designs" for various purposes, but Pride was rather missing the point of this, and he knew it. Obviously this clan had some plans in mind--and everyone else just wanted to live. But what troubled him, a little, was that Orthoclase-Alpha didn't seem to be particularly involved in the deeper aspects of it. Perhaps it was just young, or unintelligent; but it seemed to be parroting half its viewpoints, in an almost confused manner.

Mentions of Vivilene, again. The first--assurance that she had not been harmed--brought him relief. The second--that Orthoclase cared for her--brought him immense surprise. She had been so terribly shy, at first; he could hardly even imagine her befriending such a creature as this. Was it... manipulation? Was the Orthoclase pretending at this obliviousness?

He hesitated, a moment, and then tentatively reached his mind for Alpha's. When he saw nothing obvious to indicate a lie, he again inclined his head, interested. "She is... very kind, isn't she? Very-... idealistic. She wishes to help others, you know. To bring them lights, and food, and make sure they are happy. It... troubles her, I think, that she cannot speak. I am sure your company brought her comfort." A thought, an idea; "Perhaps one day you can travel with her, and offer her protection as she goes about her tasks; that might be... interesting."

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Third… third — that was… Alpha hunched over slightly, "you reproduce without necessity." An observation. "Even with the strain." Either from giving life or giving stone, allegedly. Alpha knew it was limited to three spawn at once, as anything else was. There was… seemingly no one around to order anyone else as to whether or not they could reproduce. It seemed wasteful.

The orthoclase passed on any discussion of what was right or wrong, offering a quiet hum in response.

Its mane rattled slightly as it straightened, "my Overseer envisions mine as a shock trooper. Brutal, overwhelming, breaking the front lines." Overall, it seemed to be doing a great job of those things, confident in knowing its abilities — but not what it would fight for, if not "whatever he orders me to fight for." Alpha shifted on the spot again. "If there was no need to fight, then that's time to rest and train in preparation for it."

"There are smaller designs for scouting," it grunted, "and stealth. Selenite-Gamma is one of them." Pride'd already seen it, and they weren't intended to be secret projects. It needs to learn magic. The stag could… assist.

In his reach to Alpha's mind, Pride would have full access to that simmering pot of perplexity and disorder, along with the surface-level of it not lying about its single rather tender and wholesome relationship. He went on about it, kindness and helping for the sake of it. Vivilene hadn't seemed… terribly comforted by its presence, but she stuck around even through its growling fits and watermelon-punting. She even tried to introduce it to her clan.

The niceness of that last bit was lost on it, if only to fixate on "she wasn't afraid." It scratched idly at its gem, wincing slightly as its claws grazed already-old scars. "She listened and… didn't touch me again." Deli'd nearly lost their hand for not listening. Vivilene... paid attention.

Quietly it admitted, "maybe —" and stopped short. Hesitating, squirming in place, it ground out, "after I —" Retire? Have no more use to my Overseer? "prove myself."

@Pride

Pride leaned forward, taking one of the uneaten bananas, nibbling at it as he listened, and as he spoke. Orthoclase-Alpha seemed to be struggling with the questions, as much as the answers, and Pride had a feeling it had never been asked them before. That it'd never asked itself.

For a moment, he allowed himself pride--not that he was managing anything specific, but that he was in calm conversation instead of a confrontation. That, for him, was also a step up. And then there were things to pay attention to, things that Alpha was telling him that Pride thought it should probably not be. That Orthoclase-Alpha was a 'shock trooper.' A front-line soldier. That the little creature he'd seen in Cetus (that was who it meant, right?) was intended as a stealthy scout. That its life was one of training and preparation for this mysterious, seemingly-nonexistent 'war.' (Though images of Dhracia and Raheerah still swam unpleasantly through Pride's mind.)

And that Vivilene had, at least once, touched it. And hadn't done so again. That implied a warning, at least, but Alpha's claim of her lack of fear would have spiked his disbelief and worry even higher had he not already consulted the poor confused beast's brain for signs of untruth.

"Hm. I do wonder what it is that they'll send you to war against." It was making more sense now, though, wasn't it--Khloros' claims of Astraea's words? That the Gembound were only unwanted byproducts of purged... something-or-others. If these caves held some deliberate purpose, some purpose kept to by Vargas and the masters whilst the rest of them went about their lives-... But then, why would we be tolerated? Either they are benevolent enough that they do not mind our presence, or it is more practical. Perhaps we're kept around in case we become useful later on, our... 'designs.' Or maybe we've always shared this world with them, though Astraea's words said otherwise. Or maybe we'll be used as target practice, and as food, he thought idly, and then--mind reaching back to Cetus--...or to watch the caves and monitor them for other influence. Was that it-? Were their numbers simply too low, these fierce alien beings (but then, Astraea was a stag-?) to keep things such as Mother at bay alone-? Or perhaps the caves in general had been without protection too long, and that's what they were breeding, training? A Seven, but--like this?

Pride tilted his head, a little. Alpha had been forthcoming so far; maybe it had an answer. -Best to frame it wisely, though, in case it was repeated back later on. "If your Overseer and the Masters are designing and testing, why do they tolerate all of the rest--the by-products? And why, do you know, does one of the Masters have a regular design?"

But is it-? You don't have six eyes and poison-looking quills, Pride thought, glancing over Alpha, but you know what you've heard, and seen. That Rezik looks like you, that Astraea looks like you, that one of the former 'kings' of Orion who claimed this very throne looks like you. I wonder... His thoughts half-spoke to himself, and then he shook his head.

"In any case, we must all have something to dream for. A goal, a desire for the future. That can be yours, hm? It sounds like a good one, I think." After it'd 'proven itself,' at least.

Whatever that entailed.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Against — hrm. What would its Overseer pit it against? If at all? He'd said it was a mere iteration. Just one pass at one particular design that might. Pass, and it'd continue on with minor tweaks to ensure perfection. Fail — it would be either a guinea pig for the good Doctor, be culled, or faced with the need to flee — no, it couldn't do that. Vargas knew what was best for it, and if —

Alpha looked… deeply lost in a confusing spiral at that rhetorical(?) question, jaw setting before finally answering: "I don't ask questions." Not unless given the space to.

As for Pride's next question, it… had assumptions as far as the answer to that. Its Overseer'd never particularly mentioned it, short of… well, non-verbatim don't absolutely destroy everything you see and kill whatever moves. But, it wasn't going to speak for them; it didn't have words to relay. Not even for Astraea's… design. Mundane. New. Alpha worked its jaw, swallowed, and admitted, "I don't know." To all of that.

"In any case, we must all have something to dream for. A goal, a desire for the future. That can be yours, hm? It sounds like a good one, I think."

It tensed slowly.

A desire —

That was… different from instinctive preferences it could ignore. That was conscious. Something it could cling to as motivation. It… did not need motivation. Certainly nothing material or immaterial or —

The orthoclase stood abruptly, pacing back and forth, quills rattling. Acidic eyes fixed on the figurine and bag of popcorn again. Signs of weakness. Its conscious intoned. I cannot call things mine. Alpha was owned, a thing to be possessed. Just a weapon. The very concept of it having a — dream was… counter to that.

Claws sought out the small topaz, and it impulsively smashed the thing on the ground. (A twinge of regret blossomed but was quelled by rising panic.) A few of the limbs broke off, and the front half of it cracked and fractured, embedding pieces of topaz into its fingers. Hissing at the pain, Alpha paced back and forth again, pausing every few moments to hold its head and growl, mostly at itself.

It'd let itself get caught up in — thinking. Letting itself be something. Coldness seeped in, even as its throat swelled and constricted it, as its limbs twitched and its breathing picked up. Alpha twisted to look at Pride.

"N-no," it growled raggedly — it immediately took note of that and tensed, just about failing at steeling itself, "I don't have things. Thoughts." The orthoclase's gaze darted back and forth between Pride and any number of exits it had, caught between its own refusal to back down from the conflict raging within itself and a thrumming panic demanding that it run before this weakness was taken advantage of.

It was almost suddenly like a cornered animal, sobered into a fear response by the mere thought that it was… able to hold things in private. That it had — likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams. That it couldn't avoid being more than a child conditioned to be a war machine.

Alpha could hide behind aggression and defensiveness, but it was scared.

@Pride

Pride had expected the conversation to wind to a close. For Alpha to, perhaps, quietly agree; for it to depart. But no, it had a near full-on panic attack, pacing, smashing the stone (and tensing the still-very-much-a-prey-animal-stag up all over again, right as he'd curled down to lie neatly on the rock). He lay there, staring in surprise.

I don't have things. Thoughts.

Sharp pity twisted his gut--and then anger, slowly-blooming but white hot. Who the hell was it who had created this--this thing, and created it with feelings, and then told it it wasn't allowed to have them? At once, his brain clicked on. "You are a 'design,' yes? A deliberate one?" he asked, after a moment, delicately. "If they created you with the ability to think, and feel, certainly that was done with purpose. Have they actually forbidden you from these?"

He glanced to the hand, and the shards of gemstone stuck within. He focused, for a moment, taking very specific hold of the local capillaries there, turning the blood back along different veins before it hit the open wound. An incline of his antlers, and he spoke further. "You may wish to pull that gemstone out before it gets embedded farther in. I've stopped the bleeding, for now," he added. He was fairly sure that he could stop it at the exit point once the gemstones were out. If it wasn't flowing, as long as the toxic-looking substance acted like normal blood, it should clot quickly.

He hoped. As long as the wounds weren't too bad, at least.

Mild silver eyes again lifted to Orthoclase-Alpha's alien gaze. Anger bubbled in him. As big as it was, as brutish as it seemed, it was like a child caught in a horrid, cruel world that it didn't quite understand. "Would you mind, perhaps, taking me to your Overseer; or telling him that I wish to speak with him?" He paused, and inclined his head lightly again. "I think he and I have something to discuss."

@Orthoclase-Alpha

It… needed to leave; and yet, some strange gravity kept it here.

"Have they actually forbidden you from these?"

… had they?

Alpha, full-on heaving at this point and instinctively drawing up to its full height to compensate, couldn't remember if its Overseer or anyone else had. The older champions were closed-off, emotionally invulnerable around it. Vargas seldom expressed anything but business and drip-fed praise. Its littermates showed little by way of feelings. It'd… just quietly taken note of all this and internalized it, even if not explicitly told no. Feeling had seemed like an aberration, something unnatural in the warren, and it adopted that.

"N-no?" it concluded with uncertainty. "It's… not — seen."

Pride indicated towards its hand, raising it up. Somehow, there wasn't neon pulsing so angrily from it. It flexed its thumbs, and tentatively started removing the larger crystalline shards with its teeth. Blood clotted rather than leaving entirely.

It glanced warily at the stag, weight shifting to its hind legs as it started to lick at its claws (briefly losing itself in the rhythm of it.) Quills drooped slightly as its panic quieted to a low roar, but it still felt… choked. Barely able to speak or breathe. Its sides heaved and nostrils flared.

He wanted to talk to its Overseer. He is going to report that I'm — "About what?" it intoned over its surge of panic, deliberately short and still repressing.

@Pride

Pride perked a brow at the short, harsh response. Alpha had, at least, calmed some--both from his question, as intended, and seemingly from the preoccupied necessity of cleaning its own wounds. "About the dragons, primarily. Perhaps you could ask him to meet me here, oh, later tonight?" he suggested; "This way I can have a gift ready--I presume he's a carnivore..?"

He focused on keeping the blood where it was meant to be, so that it could fully clot, concentrating in silence for a moment.

He then looked to Orthoclase-Alpha. "However, if you ever wish to come and socialize a little more, you are more than welcome to." An extension--an invitation--of solace, of a haven. He doubted that the creature would take it--not now, and not in the future--but it was there, just in case things... changed.

"I'd also like to get an idea of his expectations for the caves." Pride didn't verbally elaborate on this, and it was almost indifferently-said, but it was, at least in part, true.

He wanted to speak to Vargas, and get an idea of if they'd be clashing, in the future. And to try and head that off, with negotiation; and if that failed, he wanted to know what they'd be dealing with.

Pride wondered, for a moment, if he could contact Astraea if things got out of hand. Surely an Overseer would have to answer to the Masters, yes-?

His spell abruptly lashed back at him, and he blinked as he first lost control of the Alpha's blood--not a huge deal; it would leak a little, and then clot further naturally--but also smacked into his own. For a moment he swayed, heavily, feeling his limbs threaten to lock, and then snorted as a short spray of red blood shot from his nostrils. Pride shoved up, standing, coughing, and shook his head. "Ahh, nothing hurts but my own magic, it seems. The spell's backfired, but you should still be fine," he assured it, glancing down as red dripped to the rock.

He sure as hell hoped that he hadn't ruined his impression of immortality, so carefully and humorously cultivated--but he imagined that he had.

@Orthoclase-Alpha