DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
how quickly the hawk becomes a dove
when faced with the barrel of a gun

Desert could feel his throat swallow in a strain of practiced motion, the sound of his dry muscles squeaking to no one but himself below his skull. The reason for staying near the infernal heat eluded him so- yet, here he was, curled in the dark of his den, claws running over and under the metal bands he'd found a couple of cycles ago.

A couple? Had he really holed himself up for that long? Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Desert dragged his body awake to deliver himself out to the main passageway between the desert and its graveyard, finding himself in the larger portion of his den.

He really didn't know why he was still here. He'd gone out before, checked out the changes of the world (it seemed so many of the old tunnels were gone), yet in the end it seemed none of it changed at all.

Plus, there was that stint with the gem flowers.

Tensing his muscles as he strained to search through his brain, he found the entire experience nearly eluding him as for what happened. He'd left that cave, left his brother who had been growing wary of it all- what happened after that? The time between leaving Her den and returning to his own parsed through his memories, only to be replaced by days upon days of bleak, orange and red nothingness as he carried his life out in absolutes. Eat, drink, sleep, stare at the wall for hours on end with nothing in your mind- the usual necessities, of course.

There were the gems too. The ones left behind- he couldn't recall where he'd found them, or even why. Was it for those flowers? Whatever they were? Being near them set his nerves on edge more than they were as of late, as if one of the masters would return to the tunnel and witness this strange behavior of his he'd picked up.

It wasn't like he wanted more, but he did admire the ones he had, even if it was morbid for him to hold onto them. He couldn't give life to one if he wanted to. He didn't have the permission to- he hadn't been granted any sort of priviledge along those lines, but with the chance to wander, the implications hung heavy in his stomach. Was there anyone to watch whatever he did? Living here in this illegal den, waiting for the end for his misdoings, for judgement for his hoard...

It was a little pressing.

Closing his eyes, Desert shoved the thoughts deep into the crevices of his mind, arching his long back and feeling his wiry muscles pull themselves to their limits as he stretched out his wings as far as he could in the foyer of his den. His antlers itched against his skin- had they ever itched before? yes, his mind supplied, from ancient, long forgotten impressions of memories- an experience that'd lingered more and more the past few days, one he'd answer more and more by trying to force the joints into motion. Sure, he got exercise from hunting, but the times he wasn't was spent wasting away in solitude and silence, alone with those corpses facing him and watching him.

It just all got to be too much. His jaw rolled open in a yawn as he paced into the actual tunnel, the bracelets creating faint chimes at every step. He just needed a walk, needed to get out of the den that had begun to blend together. Even the outside walls didn't seem all that different.

He must be losing it. Frustrated, Desert sidestepped away from the thin hole to his den and scraped a wing across the sandy rock before lifting it and letting the antlers at his elbow strike against it to relieve some traces of the itch. Sure, it didn't help in the long run, but for the moment the feeling was just all too good for the weary champion. He knew a puddle was around here somewhere- he could get a drink, if it hadn't evaporated yet.

Ah, there it was. Enough for a mouthful, maybe, without getting dirt in his mouth, but it'd surely be hot. Grumbling to himself, Desert knelt down to lap up what he could. His purple tongue lapped up more dirt than he would've liked as he quenched his thirst. Just as he thought he'd had enough, a pain shot through at a particularly thick antler along his hindquarters. A yelp came out before he wound about himself to pry his teeth through the thick scales that laid there.

Ahh, much better- he'd managed to worry his teeth into the scales along much of the horn lines to reveal angry red flesh, only for that to be torn away at this particular stint of itching pain.

Well, that was the first time he'd drawn his own blood. The mere faint taste of the ferrous liquid hitting his tongue caused him to reel, his lips curling only for the briefest moment before he reached back to lick the wound shut. Of all the things to do to himself, all this just for a little itch?

As he was musing, another shot up his arm, drawing his hind claws to itch at the forest that laid at his elbow, hissing in blissful relief. No matter how much more of this there would be, at least he didn't have to deal with running trials while in the middle of it.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

This tunnel - this one - was as close to home as the garnet could consider it. Nowhere held comfortable familiarity like this. It knew the canyon-like path as well as it knew its own capabilities. The dust devils and wind currents at its center were never an impediment in its progress. Broad wings made it a little difficult to quickly react to shifts in the thermals, but it made do well enough.

Well enough to approach one of the objects of its persistent, nagging thoughts. Ruby-red eyes scanned below - if he was out, it would be difficult to miss broad wings and a fuzzy back-stripe.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine didn't often think about others, especially not its fellow Champions and survivors - the ones of the past era, anyways. They were strong and capable enough to survive in the desolate wasteland through whatever methods they chose: fighting tooth and nail, protecting themselves with magical skill, running. But, as it came to realize, the modern days were frightening. Free will and a need for agency was a concept any of the champions would be unfamiliar with. The greater expanse of the caves were quiet, empty, wrong, even without a prior knowledge of them. Not even all of the Masters or Overseers were awake and at work - it couldn't remember any of them aside from those that were awakened.

It couldn't remember a lot of things.

But, it remembered the Trials, and the Champions.

It remembered Desert and his brother-in-arms well.

Swooping lower on paraglider wings, the gargoyle-like creature chirruped softly, worriedly at Desert. Perching atop a stone and shaking out its feathers, the garnet eyed him up and down. A fresh streak of blood ran down his hindquarters and spotted across the sandy floor. It began, brows furrowing, "are you alright? It's - been a while since we reawakened."

Twisting its neck sideways, it noted no changes to the fox-like dragon. No mutations of any sort.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
how quickly the hawk becomes a dove
when faced with the barrel of a gun

To say Desert was surprised to see the garnet would have been an understatement. He didn't hear their telltale coming- not when they had the wings of an eyehook, no. Instead, it was simply a blank spot, then a voice coming from much closer than he'd prefer it to be.

His mind snapped straight from his ministrations, scales flaring as he twisted about to face the familiar voice. It took him nearly a split second, panic running through his veins too hard to recognize his old ally.

When he did come to his senses though, his eyes cleared in acknowledgement and confusion.

The garnet had... Changed. A lot. A flash of memory whizzed by Desert, of carrying the small turtle-rabbit over the long desert in a particularly arduous trial, of vultures soaring above- that's what those wings reminded him of. The creature had wings before, he remembered it clearly, but not those like a vulture, and certainly not missing their shell.

The second thing he noticed that he was staring uncomfortably long. Wincing at a strain of itching pain shooting up his thigh and subsequently ignoring it, Desert wound his body about himself to veil his bloodied haunch and cracked antlers.

"Garnet-" He started before clearing his disused throat, dipping his head. "It's... Interesting, to see you here." His words were lost to him- it had been a while since he spoke, his charisma running in a lack of use after all the cycles. "I'm fine," he added out with a soft snap.

The question should be answered quickly, of course, but he could only wonder about the garnet themself. What caused them to lose their shell? And what of their wings? His hawk-like eyes lingered across their back as he rose his head, curling it to the side. "What happened to you?" His voice was near accusatory, yet his body language only carried a sense of guarded curiosity.

They hadn't changed before the trial, no- and it looked like those wings could properly carry them this time. Besides, the question should throw off concern for him, anyways- having someone asking if he was alright in general other than Labradorite (even if it was Garnet) sent his mind on a spin and left a bad taste in his mouth. Best not to linger on it or reveal too much and turn the question back before more could be thrown at him.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

If someone was wondering what was meant when 'neurotic prey animal' was a phrase used to describe the garnet's behavior, see the following example: as Desert predictably flared up to defend against the close voice of an old friend, the odd creature flared its wings and arched its back, leaping backward with a mid-air twist. At the back of its mind, it knew the sudden and close voice wasn't too conducive to a warm welcome, but - y'know. It would have flinched anyways, at any reaction it received.

Garnet turned on the spot, tucking its wings back against its sides. It had a slight soft spot for the desert rose and labradorite - they had aided it in past trials and were thus free from any future incidents. Other champions, though, may not be. Keen eyes didn't miss the slight movement, hiding the bloodied haunches it had almost-immediately noticed. Blood didn't wash away or vanish easily. "Desert Rose Thirty-Five," it greeted cordially, but found the designation rather dry in its throat, "it's been a while. How long have you been awake?"

It seemed, though, that the fox-dragon was moving to questions as well, deflecting curiosity with his own. That part of his personality seemed to slip through the memory colander. Grinding its beak, it humored Desert, "I reawakened like this. It was not pleasant, at first." The seizure and sensory overload could be described with much less kind words. "I've grown used to them. Others reemerged with mutations, too. The diamond and tiger's eye came out with tails like the scorpions."

Then, rather casually, it tossed the question back into Desert's lap: "what's happened to you?"

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
how quickly the hawk becomes a dove
when faced with the barrel of a gun

Well, at least one thing hadn't changed. The two of them were still paranoid, flighty creatures, things not lost throughout the years of running trials over and over.

He mentally kicked himself for the lack of number in the greeting he gave, however- but, then again, it seemed like he could barely remember anything anymore. What was a designation when this garnet was the only garnet he knew, anyways? In any case, Desert could feel a breath rasping along his previously quenched throat as he glanced back towards the entrance of Hydra.

"Mh," he responded simply, mulling over the numbers in his head. "Three cycles?" The answer was accompanied by three taps of his claw- a physicality of his mental process that had grown dull as of late. It had been the longest he'd been awake, now that he thought about it.

However, not much time was allotted to the answer as the garnet moved on to offer one of their own, drawing the dragon's attention back to glance over their revealed spine. It was certainly odd- Reawakened like that? What would even trigger that? These trials were stressful, yes, but he could probably remember a few more that were markedly worse if he put his mind to the memories. But, other ones coming out with mutations? Then... Why didn't he or his brother have any? The opal hadn't changed, either, from what he recalled.

That masked creature. The impression of its image came to his mind, its red eye gazing out before them, the all-too-familiar flash that drew them back into their chrysalis. The youngers, they had to be enticed by the ideas of rewards, his mind supplied to him. Those must be the mutations, but the question still lingered- what changed about him? There were the flowers, but those felt more cursed than anything, drawing him in a mad haze of fog and even managing to drag him into Pisces. No, that wouldn't be an award for either of them, and certainly not for the aptly named desert rose.

In the end, the thoughts left a lump in his throat as he absentmindedly sat back on his haunches to idly scratch at his elbow, ease taking over his muscles. He'd gone too long not itching- and, well, the blood on his thigh was beginning to clot, at least. There weren't any predators about that'd be interested in it as far as he knew.

So, with a stifled grumble, Desert turned his attention to the object of his ministrations- several of his antlers had grown to be cracked along his limbs, the base of them infernally itchy. "Shedding," he simply provided, using his other set of claws to pick at his scales at the base of a larger, nearly snapped off horn. Not many of them had been damaged- just the one particular one on his thigh and a few smaller ones along his elbows, but they still revealed a nasty purplish-red skin beneath them as they threatened to push themselves out. "I... It's been a while since it happened. Usually we're shoved back in our chrysalises at this point." Taking in a deep inhale, Desert wrapped his toes about the cracked horn and braced himself, his entire body curling up on itself before he snapped it off in one motion, hissing from the roof of his mouth before letting out a deep sigh. "The things'll fall out eventually, but the nerves in 'em really don't like being hurt."

It did occur to Desert that this was a rather intimate moment. Letting an ally- one that could very well turn on him- witness a period of invulnerability set his tail thumping unhappily against the sandy floor below them. There wasn't much choice, however; with the total freedom presented to the two of them, times like these would have been bound to happen. There was no wall to curl behind and lick your wounds when the walls didn't exist in the first place.

Directing attention back to the garnet, however, Desert continued to pick along his elbow as he nonchalantly spoke without glancing to them. "What brings you back here?" He began, choosing his words carefully. It didn't seem like the garnet had just hatched- they'd mentioned that they'd grown used to the wings. "There's nothing but bones to one side and death at the other." The lost words of not needing to stick around almost rang out of his muzzle, but he bit his tongue. No, he had to see the hybrid's reaction, first- in truth, even Desert himself didn't know how to feel about the whole thing. However, he could mention, "Vargas hasn't been through here since the trial." He stopped his motions, instead looking up to look directly at the fellow champion. "If you were looking for him, that is- I haven't seen him in a while, actually. 'Less he's been through here while I've been hunting."

Desert had a few questions to give to their overseer, if he could only get a hold of him. Besides, that was if he could even ask them in the first place- but, knowing what to do from here on out would be better than stumbling about lost and aimless. He'd rather be told that there was no point in it all than getting in trouble for not doing something he should.

But, those were thoughts for another time.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Three cycles was about the same time it had been awake, yet it - "seems like a long time." It admitted this gently, murmuring softly with lowered ears. For creatures of habit often awake for only a day and tossed back into cages for the next however many cycles, three felt like an eternity. Garnet had been awake for five cycles, but didn't say as much.

The fox-dragon seemed confused by its response, contemplating something before scratching at his elbow. Crimson eyes met the angry, pussy mess that was the many antlers on its elbows with some degree of sympathy. Had Desert fallen on and cracked them? Or had something else done this to him? If it were the latter, Garnet didn't think it could do much against that; it briefly considered the Overseer, but the champion was no servant of his. It relaxed somewhat with the knowledge that these antlers were simply shedding - like its feathers did, on occasion, though not as bloodily and painfully. Preening had never been a particularly difficult process. A quick tug and the quill was free. It took quite a bit of will to snap off just one horn, it seemed.

Garnet winced. "I could -" it hesitated but continued to offer from where it stood, "I could help with that? It doesn't look like it needs to be prolonged."

"I've been thinking about the other champions as I've gone around the caves - wondering about them now that there's time to... establish proper relations," it flicked its ears, "you're the first I've found." The others had seemingly scattered into the woodwork, perhaps thrilled with the opportunity to do as they pleased. "Things are a lot different now, I've found. Designations aren't common anymore. They're strange, even." Just one of many things to report from its exploration of the caves, unaware that Desert had ventured further than this tunnel and found himself trapped in a hivemind for a time.

With some note of pride and a slight puff to its chest, "I've already found Overseer Vargas and have become his Eye." Shaking out is body, though, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine lowered its head, "I didn't know what to do with myself - that's... the other reason I'm looking for the others. I've found a purpose, now that we're all awake, and - I'd like to give the others that option, too. Times are... different, now. Changed. Chaotic, almost."

It did not say why these times could be so chaotic and quiet at once.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
how quickly the hawk becomes a dove
when faced with the barrel of a gun

The bleeding dragon only nodded softly at the garnet's simple words, his brain passing back to the empty expanse of the few cycles he'd been ambling about. It... Certainly seemed too long. By this point, though, his body carried him on autopilot- the itchiness was really the only change in his mundane routine as of late.

Light blue eyes roamed over Garnet as the proposition was offered. Yes, they've been close before- at least, he might've been imagining it, but he figured they had from the fragments of their memory lingering- but to let them this close in a time of vulnerability left a sour taste in Desert's mouth. "It'll be fine," he spoke after a brief moment of consideration, a claw lingering over the now faintly bleeding antler he'd snapped off. It felt leagues better- the dull pain was much more welcome and much more familiar than the sharp streaks in need of scratching.

Though, taking his time to look over Garnet, his ears flicked back in consideration. "Besides, 'less you can telekinesis 'em out-" and, if he remembered, Garnet wasn't too keened in on the arcane- "it's probably better to just let 'em fall." They'd take longer, but he really doubted the prey creature would have the muscle needed to tug them out. They were loose, yes- maybe.. String? He blinked quickly and shook his head minutely, getting back on track with the current conversation.

Other champions, though? Desert let his head rise on his elongated neck as the rest of his body slid down to rest, curling his foreclaws to his chest to get comfortable. If they were going to talk, well- not much danger passed through here, anyways, and the garnet was one of the few he'd really seen long enough to even speak to. "I've seen a few," he mumbled mostly to himself, glancing to the ground in thought while his ears trained on the fellow champion in front of him. "And experienced a bit of that." There was that hulking, dark creature- at least, he remembered it vaguely from his time in the hivemind. Now that he thought about it, he never got its designation, but it did seem to have a name and react to his numbers oddly?

Shaking his scales and flaring them ever so slightly (and carefully as to not frighten Garnet), Desert raised his head back to the companion in question. "His Eye?" His voice carried a lilt of disbelief, his head tilting. Vargas was hiring help, now? The Overseer always struck Desert as being more than capable of taking care of his own- but, he guessed, he was just one being. Extra eyes wouldn't hurt to have.

Purpose, though. "Our- purpose is to run," he grumbled, his natural growl rising in the back of his throat. "Is an Overseer gathering us up for a new trial?" Different times though- absolutely. Orion (or, what he saw of it) was in shambles, Canis had life among it... All of it was unbearably new to the ancient being.

Perhaps another trial would get everyone back in line. Desert was tired of sitting around and waiting for something, anything- whatever Garnet had to say must have been what he was here for all this time.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine drew up onto its hind legs again, and preened at an ear with webbed paws pressed together. Getting anything out of this conversation might take a moment - though, it had to admit, it couldn't do much other than stomp on the fox-dragon's antlers until they maybe fell off. The champion lacked any of the weight or brawn needed to perform that task. It might be best to leave the shedding to Desert; although, "I can go find water for you. Your legs'll be no use if they're infected." Those massive wings couldn't carry him forever, could they?

It was a matter of getting him to allow its assistance.

"Which ones?" The Garnet chirped, pausing in its preening with one last swipe down its beak. Its wings rustled leather-on-leather. Crimson eyes peered at the fox-dragon, head tilted slightly to get a better view; its pupils were a little dilated with clear interest. Keeping tabs on the other champions - those that were most certainly awake after the Merchant's lash of strange energy - might prove useful, particularly for its position as the Overseer's Eye. Gathering them may be another thing, however distant in the future that could be. In the span of this many cycles, it was anyone's guess how each of the others had coped with life's open door.

Another desire to preen surged up, and it shook itself with a sniff. Feathers puffed out, heat getting to it, the odd creature nodded, "I am one of his servants, scouting and spying as he wills me to." Though there was no white to its eyeballs, Garnet glanced sidelong. "Don't worry. He's no part in me coming here. Between us, I believe he's - as lost as we are without the Trials or the Masters." Frightened, even, but the champion kept that in strict confidence. "It's only necessary that we run, but - those younger creatures. They're strange. They don't want to perform and prove that they can survive."

Such was a characteristic conditioned only into the old ones.

"But - if enough of us came together, with Overseer Vargas, the Trials could resume, even if the youngers don't wish to adhere to the old ways. We could serve our purpose once again." It would be sacrificing what little hold they all had on fate, now, but it would be worth it to do what they were most skilled at. Right?

Shaking itself again, the garnet chirped, "I could bring you to him; the Overseer, I mean."

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
how quickly the hawk becomes a dove
when faced with the barrel of a gun

The dragon could feel his scales and wings ruffling and tightening in on himself, unease settling over his form. "I'll be fine," he let out with a final hiss, moving his attention to lick the antlers at a forearm below him. Hopefully that would be the end of that conversation- of course he wouldn't get an infection. He was Desert Rose Thirty-Five and if he was going to lose his legs, it may as well be to a sand worm and nothing like a minor infection.

But... They did have a point. After a moment of thought, he turned his ministrations to his hindquarters and lapped at the closed wound, cleaning up the now drying blood about it. He paused as the conversation carried on, ears swiveling back to face Garnet while he held his mouth close to the wound.

Who had he seen? His mind wandered- "The Opal- and my brother, though I don't know where either are now." Rumbling in thought, Desert scraped his talons against the sandy floor below. "I wouldn't be surprised if either are in Pisces- I think it's called that? Opal seems the type to hang around there." He couldn't place why his brother would be lingering about there- faint memories told him they should be there, but… For what?

His eyebrows drew together as he listened in more, turning his head back to his companion. Ah- with wings, Garnet would make a good scout. His eyes roamed over their form again, a claw picking at an elbow as he focused on their various parts as they spoke. The masters- he had yet to see any, especially with the creatures as spread out as they were. But Vargas, lost? The concept was alien to Desert. It was an Overseer's duty to know what was going on in the caves; if Vargas didn't know, how could any of them?

Though, on the new beings about, "yes…" His gaze went sidelong, staring down at Garnet's webbed toes. If these beings could find purpose outside of trials… No, no. Mustn't go to that territory today. Desert shoved the thought away as he raised his head, blue eyes meeting red as he looked into them for an uncomfortable second. Gears turned in his mind, before a repeat "yes." Curling his limbs under him, he looked about ready to jump into action. For the time being, however, resting here was fine- Resting as he talked, resting as it allocated time for his antlers to heal.

But he'd already rested enough. "Getting the champions together sounds best, but it sounds like some could be against the idea? I've screwed over enough to get enough rivals in my life." He paused, a snort coming out of his slitted nostrils. "It's up to them to see past it for the better, I guess." Standing up fully, Desert stretched out his hind legs before arching up his back, continuing to talk all the while. "We should gather more before we see the Overseer, though. With everything going around, I doubt he's in a good mood." Moving on to his toes now, he pulled forward his forearms and scraped what remained of his horns along the ground, accompanied by the smallest wince. "There may be some further in by the Hydra entrance; I, ah, haven't steeled myself to check recently." Read: too lazy. The plan proposed definitely held a sacred ring to it, however; returning to his purpose, wasn't that what he wanted to do?

There was one concern on the tip of his tongue, though. "Have you told Vargas about this, yet?" He queried, standing normally now but lowering his head to meet the garnet's own. Being his Eye and all probably allowed the garnet some minute will of agency, yet the idea to gather champions seemed best to be reported before a fight broke out for nothing. Though, if they gathered enough champions before coming to their Overseer, it may prove better in swaying his mind to the idea of more trials.

If the Masters even wanted them to run more trials. But, they weren't for them to speak to; Vargas was the only one near enough in level to even dream of talking to one. But, that was a bridge to burn later; for now, the desert rose had more important things to put his mind to.

@Garnet Five-Seven-Nine

Stubborn, but understandable. Garnet relented, though with a resigned half-smile and a brief "okay." At least the fox-dragon started to tend to his wounds, rather than letting them bleed and fester all over the place. Saliva wasn't a pure alternative to water, but it was better than nothing. It lingered where it was, wings rustling one last time.

"Ah, it was there when I reemerged," it chirped, flicking its tail. Mind meandering through the minimally-processed and remembered internal map of the caves, it wondered. Pisces was the watery room, yes? Warm and a grand furnace? No, no - "that's the room with the waterfalls, yes?" There was a fairly straightforward path to it, but still. It was a matter of getting there in one piece, without obstacles, and finding the others - who might be there by pure chance. It was entirely possible that they had moved on already, to some greener pasture unbeknownst to the rest of them.

Desert, at least, seemed to linger in the past ways as it did - as Vargas seemed to. That much was reassuring. Solidarity was a comfort the champions often shared, even in the days of old. Even one trial was enough to form a mutual understanding, rivalry-birthing or not. He seemed rather supportive of drawing pieces of the past into a cohesive mass. It was a proposition that might ensure future survival, indeed. Organization coul- would be key.

"We've all done what was necessary to survive, Desert - Masters know I've sabotaged a fair many, even in the Merchant's trial," it reassured. "If they have half a mind to make their way in these times, they'll at least try to look away from that part of our history."

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine tilted its head, considering. Numbers might bolster their chances at approval by the Overseer. He most certainly could not be intimidated into compliance and an 'uprising' - the thought made it sick to its stomach, remembering s chatoyant gemstone not far from here - by supposedly loyal champions wouldn't read well in the cycles to come. "It will save him the work of finding each of us," it chirped, "he doesn't seem to be actively collecting the champions." Busy with other things. "I can check the entrance - perhaps you could seek out your brother and the opal?"

Water, too, it thought snidely.

"He does not know yet. I haven't spoken to him since I thought of at least finding the others."

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five