V-Onyx-Two stepped from the heat and darkness of the workshop, studying the blades held out before him. Mere sickles, they were not very large--certainly no halberd like what his father carried. And one held a strange enchantment, distracting moreso than useful; it provided a dim and circling light but no real advantage in a battle.

But they looked like potent weapons, in the right hands. The problem, right now, was that "the right hands" were certainly not his own, and he knew it. At three cycles old, he was not full-grown: about five-foot-eight, lanky and thin, his voice often cracking as it broached the gap between childhood and maturity. And at this age, he'd had little time to train in suitable weapons. Those sticks he'd practiced with in Draco, he'd quickly outgrown, and they were not curved, serrated things as these sickles were. These were his first true weapons: his first "adult" weapons, still slightly oversized for him and his hands were wildly unfamiliar with their grips. Though they were perfectly balanced, that balance was still new to him.

With a sigh, he let the sickles fall to his side--against the new black cloth shrouding his form--and looked up and around. He let the magic, too, drop: the soft golden glow that had partly lit his path coming upward through the workshop, though strictly speaking, he hadn't needed it. Between the red light of magma and the wisp's dim circling, he'd seen well enough--but practice was always good.

For a long moment, Onyx-Two stood on the lip of the cave. His wings flexed out, feeling at the air, the black primaries shivering in the wind of the glittering bay. For once he was here alone, permission to simply collect his new weapons granted, and as he stood there, he was already reluctant to relinquish this rare freedom.

Coming back home is... disorienting. The harpy had become more accustomed to the caves as a whole, the cold of other caves and the odd clinging dampness of some others.

Their proclivity for wandering seems to have displaced their cave here in Leo as home in their mind, leaving them feeling like a stranger where they grew up.

While in the air, enjoying the thermals and finally, finally the ability to open their wings to their full span and dive, to swoop and spin, they decide to pick a bit at their magic... to see if they reignite their own fire like they used to on accident. Like stretching an underused group of muscles, they reach in and think for a moment.

Feeling the heat spread inside them under their skin makes them smile, a warmth that they iss deeply even if the memories of first learning it was also laced with pain. In an effort to see more of the heat they miss, Renasci closes in on the volcano- and in turn the Blacksmith's shop- and their magic flickers in their chest at the sight of Another.

Not an Other.

But Another - Bird But Better. This makes them pull up in their flight and hover a few dozen meters away, staring plainly at the shape.

"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two

He was staring up at nothing--at distant cave ceiling half-obscured by light-ignited mists, at Lesser seabirds darting here and there--when another figure registered.

One not unlike his own, only a few inches shorter, and astonishingly similar all-in-all. He could not make out details, not from here. But it was humanoid, the shape of its ankles not unlike its own, wings spread broadly about it as it flew.

V-Onyx-Two squinted skyward, and found his fists tightening around the handles of the new scythes.

He was unaccustomed to flying. He had not practiced nor trained, and he felt reluctant to go and meet this stranger in the sky, where they were clearly in their element. Instead, then--his stance tensing clumsily--he called upward. "Hello," and there was defensiveness in even that single word of greeting.

Was this person friend, or foe-?

A small squeak- the Another talks! The mild faltering in their wingbeats is visible, but they recover easily enough and climb back to their original height, if a bit closer.

Where Renasci is broad for their height and deeply feathered, tail flaring wide to slow their approach just that much more towards Onyx-Two, they eye the... clearly young Another. Lanky is the best word they can think of, and bare, like the Tunnel Runners - most likely just as dangerous, then, as themselves if unassuming.

A very avian head tilt one way, and another, feathers and pointed ears flaring out sideways as they do, before stilling their wings... and gliding to a landing a number of feet away.

Curiosity and loneliness do encourage this risk of theirs, and after a small rumbling chirp in their chest, Ren takes a slow breath.

"H-hello...? You're... new." They sound disoriented, and curious. Their wings fidget and one wrist joint drops to tap the ground, while the other pulls back tightly against their back, jostling their bundle of items with a mild clink .

"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two

A faint frown ticked at his face, though he tried to hide it--tried to stand stiffly upright, the very impression of confidence. It wasn't a very good impression, given the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he jerked slightly at each of Renasci's wing movements as if expecting an attack. His hands, too, were still too-tightly gripping the handles of his new sickles. A surge of instinctive magic came far stronger than usual as if in self-defense: a glimpse at Renasci's magic. It showed not the power of the Forge--that Oily chaos--nor the warning signs of Order. That, at least, was a relief.

"I'm three cycles old," was his defensive, defiant answer, chin tipping upward. He wasn't new. He was old. He was certain of this with all the arrogant ignorance of youth, sure that three whole entire cycles was enough to have seen the world.

Trying to still look confident, he hefted the sickles a little (for comfort more than anything) and nodded with tightened jaw toward Renasci, looking down at them in forced superiority. Never mind the fact that he could feel his heart hammering in his chest: if this one attacked, despite its slightly smaller size--if they blasted him with magic--this was the first time his father wouldn't be here to save him. "I am V-Onyx-Two of the Chaos Forge. Who are you?"

The intended snottiness in his tone came out faltering, instead, almost conversational. Onyx-Two simply hadn't had a chance to perfect rudeness.

The other's twitching, nerves, and general anxiety almost make them feel... calmer, themselves. Unaware that Onyx-Two had looked them over magically, the harpy blinks a few times before chirping in evident delight. "Three cycles? New in more than one way. I've seen two cold changes, and it's getting warmer again... so I'm almost twenty four cycles. I live in this cave, closer to the beach."

They struggle to keep their mirth contained, though- did they act like this as a cheepling? "I am Renasci, I stand alone and until now I believed myself the only bird-but-better in the caves." Their tone is warm, and they tilt their head to the left to look Onyx-Two over. "You are... as old as V-Onyx-Three. Are you their hatchmate? I know them, we hunted not long ago together." A moment as they wonder what the other is up to now.

A few more moments, then, and their head tilts the other way. "What's in your palms?"

"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two

Some of this stranger's words confused him, made him hesitate. Cold changes? he thought; he'd never heard of the caves' equivalent of seasons, before, and was far too young to have experienced them for himself. And what did bird-but-better mean-? ...Things with feathers? he hazarded, and what he perceived as foolish phrasing brought a sneer to his face, disdain flashing in his eyes. "I am a soldier," he corrected Renasci (incorrectly--he was nothing of the sort, as yet), "of the Chaos Forge." Not, he was stating emphatically, whatever a bird-but-better might be.

As for Onyx-Three--his eyes narrowed and he stared at Renasci. It might have seemed intimidating to some, but to Onyx-Two, he was worried--afraid of giving too much information away. It wasn't strictly forbidden to speak of this, but nonetheless, the sheltered child felt reluctance and suspicion. "We are half-siblings." The distinction, for whatever reason, seemed to be important.

As for his palms--he glanced down at the sickles, then back up to Renasci; where his fingers had begun to loosen on the wooden handles, they now tightened possessively, even defensively. "They are my new weapons," he declared, again proudly tipping his chin up with unearned confidence. "The weapons of a soldier."

Part of him--the part that might have blossomed into a kind and friendly creature--wanted to ask why Renasci 'stood alone;' where exactly they lived; what they did from day-to-day. But the part that had been raised coldly aloof by a cave full of monsters simply set his jaw and stared.

Clearly non plussed, one ear flicks as the other talks.

Bit young to be a soldier, eh? And whatever they want to call themselves- wait. Are they a... them?

"Ah, you hatched at different times then?" Now, whether or not they're being a little shit about their question remains to be seen, but they do seem curious. "Explains stone and number names. Does everyone have a name like that until they pick a job? Then will your name be something like the Sentinel's?"

Both ears flick, and they reach over their shoulder to shrug off their pack with their metal bracer attached and -admittedly crude in comparison- sardonyx blade spear. "Have you used your weapons yet? They seem neat, and I've never seen a curved cutting edge before." The metal and stone make another soft clink noise as they bump into each other, bag settled near their feet.

The harpy is at ease, mostly, save their one wing braced against the ground at their wrist joint, extra claw absent-mindedly scraping at the stone. Their other wing rests at their shoulder, almost, primaries covering their bag on the ground in a possessive manner the other bird might understand, with feathers far enough apart to allow a glimpse or two of the rope-net bag and assorted crude tools when Renasci gestures.

Carrying the confidence and air of someone left to their own devices for far too long, the harpy has no such self-conscious compunctions when it comes to prying questions and sating their curiosity.

"Have you flown in here yet? Up by the lava floes is the easiest place to take off, at least without a drop first. Then you'd better go use the stacks out there, but it makes for a fun game to catch yourself midair. It uh. Hurts if you hit the water though."

"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two

"Yes." The single word, again, was coldly indifferent, reeking of an arrogance the child had not earned. It was, at its core, simple insecurity. As for the rest... he set himself to explaining. Surely this, at least, was no secret-? And the more he spoke, the more at ease he felt, if only slightly; it reflected, though, in an ever-so-slightly less rude exterior. "We begin with a V-. V-Onyx-Two. The V is Master Vargas's designation. The Sentinel is my stonegiver." A hand pulled the robe aside enough to show his gemstone, an act perhaps he'd not have been so blithe about had he known the danger of a strike to one's stone, but he had not yet been taught of this. The core of onyx at his sternum was laid bare for a moment--streaked generously with pure, gleaming Oilstone. Just as quickly, it was covered, the black woolen robe pulled tight again.

"We are named for our gemstone, and numbered as to which we are. I am the second Onyx. He was the first. And yes... we can earn our names." His chin once more tipped up with pride. "I have yet to earn mine." He had yet to earn anything. And he didn't know it, but the Sentinel had never asked for a name. He'd always been a title, a purpose, from his hatching--and had never desired more.

He looked down at his weapons, when they were asked of; the Blacksmith had given him but the most basic of lessons and it was clear in the way he hefted them now. He knew how to hold them, perhaps even how to swing them and block with them, but only in the theoretical sense of one who had been shown once or twice. Muscle memory was not yet there. "Yes," was, however, all he said. And as for flying--his pale eyes cut up toward the sea stacks, then toward Renasci, suspicious somehow of some sort of trap. "No." But the spear, the bracer--those now drew his eye. And he remembered the advice of his father: to practice combat with as many strangers as he could, so as to learn how best to fight a number of techniques and weapons.

He nodded to it, feeling his heart in his throat again, fearing what he was about to say before he said it. "We can spar," he suggested. "If you like."

His pale eyes again lifted to the harpy, studying Renasci--trying to gauge their strengths and weaknesses. But Onyx-Two was too inexperienced to be able to pick much from the form of feathers and pale skin.

A small chirr here and there as V-Onyx-Two explains, a bit confused for sure but it's none of their business, so they mind their own.

"I named myself for the sound air makes when you drop. Hatched on the roof up there and all. A gesture to the roof far, far above the sea of Leo. "Who is Master Vargas? I've never heard of him... is he the one who makes the odd light near Draco and in Pegasus?"

Both ears and their feathers flicker as they think quietly about Onyx-Two's gemstone and location- wondering at a word for their own springing into their head as they rub at their own in the same spot. "How do you know what stone you are anyway? Nobody gave me mine, is that why...?" And they sort of shrug- question more curiosity and a talking aloud to themselves than an actual existential questing. "Did they give you the... stuff you're wearing too?"

Watching the other look around, and the short response to their question- ah.

Swinging at the air, maybe. Not against a target.

"Spar? Sure. Weapons and gear only, no magic? Just so we don't wound the other too badly. We can take to the skies too. I know it took me a while to learn the lava take off, anyway." They casually use the thumb on the wrist of their one wing to lift their bag into their arms, and they bring the spear into their palm, twirling it once. "I will warn you, I've yet to use this against... others. I've only hunted with it." Let's casually avoid the fact that they've never fought anyone else ever before, as well.

"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two