The warren was, despite its actual temperature, emotionally cold. Distant. Desert felt like an alien in his own home, confusing emotions still washing over him. They were not far from where they'd laid their kin, where the chrysalises festered and grew into the surrounding rock. The sheer amount of magic that laid there was nauseating- as if magic wasn't meant to exist in this hall. To say that it was a heavy weight on his mind was an understatement. The unfamiliar magic that had burst from the ground during the breeding was a testament to the strangeness of this all. No, this-

He didn't know what to do. This was a common idea that surfaced in his brain nearly every waking hour, and instinct drove him to stay, to protect. It was almost like his brother was here. If only he knew where he was. Would he approve? Would this be good? Was he leading the others well? Palefur, Doctor... Hemlocke...

His muscles drove him to pace nearly everywhere he went. It'd only been a few days since the chrysalises had begun growing, but it felt ages. He never knew how long it took for him to emerge from his chrysalis after trials- he didn't know how long it'd take for a new being to come into existence. A new being- his children.

Bile rose in the back of his throat. He- he wasn't ready to be an adult. No. He could barely take care of himself- he could barely take care of the others, he couldn't- he couldn't take care of young gembounds. Palefur? Doctor? They- they were young, but they were adults. Desert knew nothing about now-a-days, about the magic that infested this tunnel and these rooms and this nest now. When he was born, he knew what he had to do. Would they? They weren't made for trials, not in any way that they knew. They were just... Made.

This is what Vargas wanted. This is what he would do to appease his Overseer. He would bring this nest to glory, whatever that meant, through their successes in Hydra. They would survive against all odds. Desert would make sure of that.

He didn't know when he'd slept last. His wings ached, his feet were sore against the sandy dirt at the floor of the warren. His pacings directed him back and forth, back to the children growing, back to their creations. Oh, how he abhorred this waiting. He wanted this to be done, he wanted his life to have some sense of normalcy faster. He- he needed his brother, he needed to ground himself- he could feel his paranoia rising to the ceiling, as if he were scraping his face against the sky. To be fair, he wanted to. That would be better- anything would be better than this.

He couldn't look for the Seven now. Not while this was on his conscious. But when would he be able to when these guys do hatch? WHEN would they hatch? Caves above, below, surrounding him, suffocating him- Tunnel vision blocked in as he found himself in front of the yellows and reds of the gems before him. They- they must be good. They were fine. They were growing. He-

He didn't realize he was pulsing magic out from him until echoes of magic rung back behind his ear and in his brain. They were fine. They were fine. The magic here was- it was suffocating, but it was healthy for them. It was good for them.

There- there was a lot, though.

More than there should be. Was- was it the glass? No, the echo ringed out from... Nearby. Close. But it wasn't these chrysalises. It was something else, something glowing from cracks behind them. Vargas must have laid a chrysalis to rest here, before the others arrived. Yes- yeah, that must be it. But- why would it be buried so deep? Confusion washed over the unidentifiable feelings rumbling in Desert's gut. This, this was more pacing material. He'd already started again, his body passing to and fro in front of the glinting spikes surrounding the growing gems. Gems wouldn't dig that deep- were they deep like that when they were asleep? Before they woke? Was this a forgotten champion?

No, Desert didn't hate waiting. He hated not knowing. Not knowing what would happen next, not knowing how long it would take... Not knowing who that was.

This didn't sit well on his mind.

Waiting had come with a few unfortunate boons, foremost of which was time to think, to contemplate - idle paws were dangerous paws, as the saying goes? Hemlocke'd perched atop a particular spike of stone, glass summoned by its own unfamiliar doing somewhat near the chrysalises, and waited for the days to tick by, for the orb-lights to dim in their persistent rhythm and brighten again.

By the second day, it wondered how it had survived waiting cycles and cycles for the Overseer to pass through; there'd been nary a thought other than those focused directly on the Trials and their continuation and stupid, stupid children. Its mind was a persistent little hive of various streams of consciousness, all tumbling over one another and clouding every physical action. Sometimes, simply moving felt like a chore - like it should be dedicating to all of its energy contemplating, compartmentalizing, considering...

But... what was it to do when it started to run out of that energy? That will? When it started to hit nothing but dead-ends in its own logic rather than paradoxical loops? It was admittedly Hemlocke's own doing, that; it had a tendency to stop any internal argument and possible internalization of outside idealology with a simple thought of that's rebellious thinking. The conditioning was a bullet from a well-primed pistol. It always aimed and shot true.

Ruby-red eyes became lucid again, glassy sheen vanishing in an instant as the Eye became hyperaware of another presence among these living gems. Ears flickering forward, feathers preemptively puffing up, it hunkered low, thoughts grinding to a halt and completely flying out of mind as instinct overrode. Shoulders bunched up, tail flicking, Hemlocke watched with a growing sense of recognition as Desert Rose made his approach. His gait suggested tunnel-visioning, and he didn't so much as look around for threats.

Something was on his mind. Dangerous.

He began to peer closer at something, and the aftermath of such an intense rush of adrenaline left it with an intensely exhausted sort of curiosity. Hemlocke moved quickly, trotting up towards the fox-dragon and intentionally scuffing its claws against the stone. It chirped softly as it drew within biting-distance, if only to belatedly alert Desert Rose to the fact that it was about to flutter to the top of the crack and peer within. The sight was enough to make a regular Gembound sick to its stomach - the oilslick sheen of the stone and intense glow was different, wrong to most. Hemlocke found a strange sort of comfort in it, just barely recognizing it as the stone - or something similar - that their Overseer held. Something old, buried deep, awakened only a little.

"We should inform our Overseer of this, Thirty-Five," Hemlocke called promptly, looking to its brother-in-arms, "another Overseer, perhaps? I don't recognize the stone." To be fair, it didn't recognize many of them outside of the hunter. Those memories were foggy, awaiting reawakening.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

Desert took a step back. He took another. He was about to give thought more to this thing only to be interrupted by a soft sound beside him. A sudden tug out of his tunnel vision dragged him to growl softly until he realized who it was.

Ah. Hemlocke. His lifted scales lowered themselves to his skin as he calmed himself down, a huff escaping his nose as he regarded his companion. A brief look over confirmed that nothing had changed (of course, it'd only been a few days, but still). When they spoke, though, he turned back to the chrysalis, his wings drawn closer to his sides.

"Perhaps we should," Desert rumbled. "There's not much we can do about it, I don't think, though- there's still some Champions in chrysalises down at the Hydra entrance, right?" He tilted his head as he stepped closer, careful of the glass that they built up over the children. Upon closer inspection, Desert realized he couldn't even recognize the stone it held. He was usually good about them- particularly for knowing what to call someone when he inevitably forgot their name- but this one eluded him. The shimmer of it sent a shudder down his spine. As cautiously as he approached, he returned to Hemlocke's side while avoiding the glass. "It doesn't seem like a priority. Next time we see him, we can mention it. Otherwise we'd have to handle explaining how everything changed to another person." Maybe it would end up hatching along with the children, but in truth Desert Rose doubted it even would hatch at all. The others hadn't. Whatever it was, though, it wasn't dead inside, and that gave a small shock of alarm through the dragon's mind.

He shook his head. "Unless you want to call him. Your call on that one." His blue eyes met Hemlocke's face as he spoke. "I've got enough on my mind about these guys already." He threw his head in gesture to the other chrysalises waiting for their inhabitants to grow. "It's... I'm not sure what to think."

He squinted towards them, then back to Hemlocke. He could already feel himself going back into a recurrent cycle of deliberation and stepping over himself on them. Distraction seemed to be in order, and he provided with a wary "How're you holding up?" Small talk was awful, and Desert wouldn't do it if it weren't necessary in the moment to just think about anything else.

@Hemlocke

It stood tensed on the spot for a moment, haunches quivering in preparation to spring away until Desert came to recognize it. The intentional noise-making hadn't been enough to alert him to Hemlocke's presence. That was dangerous — for the fox-dragon, at least. Being caught so unawares could spell disaster in the long run, and the alien let him know as much: "you need to stop getting so… distracted. It's going to get you killed."

This was said out of obligation, not a genuine wish for the selenite to live and see another day. Not a hope for the selenite to stay at its side. Not a need for the selenite to lead where it could not, even leading itself.

"They're often surface-level, though," Hemlocke mused quietly, changing its own train of thought, "not buried so deep as this one." With a tap of claws — almost a 'but' gesture, it continued, "it looks like Overseer Vargas's stone." That meant it was strong. It didn't require so much protection and oversight. They were made to be durable, invulnerable — or so the rumors went. "We can inform our Overseer of this later, yes, once we're done gathering intel on the Younger gatherings."

It's call — Hemlocke puffed up involuntarily, exasperated. The nerve?! "It isn't our call. Neither of us have the authority to make any 'calls.' Watch your step, Desert Rose Thirty-Five." Its voice lost strength, growing quieter, almost pleading, "don't tread the line. Stop — thinking." They weren't supposed to think. They weren't supposed to act independently. They weren't supposed to have authority except by the Overseers and the Masters by proxy.

The alien didn't respond to Desert's poor attempt at small talk. It wasn't going to let Desert know how it was 'holding up.'

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

The dragon squinted once more and flicked his ear, turning away with another huff. He didn't have an excuse. But, really- did he have to excuse himself to Hemlocke? It seemed the alien nearly enjoyed finding his flaws and digging into them. Or was it seeing itself in his place? His squint only grew as he stared at the pair of garnets resting in the sand. Yes, one was his, but his teeth gritted in some sense of fussiness thinking that there was only one visibly his resting there. Was it egotistical, selfish to think this way? Perhaps.

But, he had to have some joy in life.

He raised his head to regard the chrysalis they'd discovered, anyways. "That's true. But who's to say we weren't buried that deep and brought to surface when we awoke?" How long had they been asleep? He was still unsure about it, but it wasn't too big of an issue now. They were awake. That's all that mattered."It does," he spoke on the similarity to Vargas's stone. "But I never looked that close to it. I can't... Recognize it."

When he looked to Hemlocke, he was a witness to the alien's clear discomfort. Or was it offended? He was about to speak, calm down the situation, until Hemlocke hissed to him, grinding on him like a grindstone. Its tone- it was near conspiratorial in its delivery, yet in the opposite direction. Desert could feel his hackles immediately raise, his scales going on edge instinctively to make himself look bigger. He took in a breath- He needed to be careful on how he phrased this. "We need to make calls as to when we'll hunt. We need to make calls in the trials on who to trust and destroy. We need some sort of agency to survive." His tail lashed, and his voice went lower, a growl laid under his words. "If you can't decide shit for yourself, you're a sitting duck, Hemlocke." He hated that this thing deserved a name more than him, deserved more garnets from itself, deserved a place beside the Overseer. Desert Rose? He was left high and dry, and he knew his face was sour at the line of thinking.

Yes, thinking. Deep breaths- he steeled himself, closing his eyes briefly before continuing, a newfound tightness in his chest. He had to speak before Hemlocke jumped in on him once more. "Maybe you should do some thinking, Garnet. I don't tread the line. I will very well damn step right on it if it means getting our fucking lives back. I will think all I damn well please if it means I get to live another day, if it means getting this nest back in order." His voice had grown louder, a full growl running from his mouth and into the air as his pupils shrunk to thin slits in his eyes. "I'm not going against the Masters. I'm not going against Vargas. I'm doing what I must; you should as well. And that means doing shit for yourself, like deciding if you want to tell him now or fucking later. It doesn't matter shit either way, so it was your damn call."

Well, damn, that wasn't the direction he wanted to go, but apparently he had some pent up anger boiling over at this moment. He knew it was baseless deep down and idiotic to flame at his compatriot like this, but he was tired of its complete innate sense to just wear him down. It was working if this is what the creature wanted. He was doing fine. He was building this group. Vargas didn't need to be wrapped in this shit. Desert, he had responsibility now. Maybe it was getting to his head, but his tunnel-vision shifted onto Hemlocke, pinpointed into a needle that he aimed to drill right back into its skin. What right did it have to question him in this? He wasn't a Master, an Overseer, barely even a Champion. He was just a being looking to survive, and it seemed Hemlocke, despite all its sense to live, only existed to be a mindless nobody. That made a useless servant to the Masters. No chance to grow in your rank, no chance to get higher in your station.

And yet, the one damn creature in these caves that didn't give a single thought to itself was the fucking Eyes of Vargas. It had a fucking name. It had two fucking garnets. It had- it had priority over him. He gave a particular solace in thankful thinking that it hadn't had the opportunity to give its own gem to Vargas, otherwise he wouldn't know what he would have done.

And yet, here it stood. Preaching on authority to him when it didn't realize its own.

@Hemlocke

Here comes the desert rose's ugly ego coming to head. It started to crown the moment Hemlocke offered a mere peace of advice. Zoning out and tunnel-visioning had no place in a Champion's characteristics. They weren't built to do either of those things. Desert had never done that before, as far as the Eye was aware. Concerning. Distressing. The small alien didn't want to acknowledge that it had caught itself unawares a few times — those were different incidents, though… it always made sure it was safely out of reach with plenty of escapes. Not standing out in the open with a barricade of glass at his back.

"Maybe," it hummed, before it shifted into a poor attitude. They could be laid deep and surface, perhaps, but chrysalises didn't seem to move from their spot once they rooted down.

Hemlocke watched as it struck a nerve, puffing up further and almost arching its back in a cat-like manner. Preemptively, its wings flared out, posturing. Two could play at this little game of posturing until a fight started or one of them backed off. Unfortunately for either of them, the alien didn't seem in the mood for common sense. "Those calls are necessary for our continued survival. Us summoning an Overseer to come look at a fucking unopened chrysalis is not. Are our lives at stake right now? Will we die right this second if he doesn't know?" Hemlocke twittered, ears raising as it crawled higher up on its glass spike. "It will go into our report when he comes around and demands it. Watching over these chrysalises isn't at the top of our priorities."

"I've done enough thinking to last a lifetime and know my damn place," it growled, "you — we don't have the authority to think. I can remind myself of where I am. Where I will be. Where I would be if I spent too much ti—" Hemlocke's tail flagged as it switched gears. "What can you even tell me about the Bonebound? What they're doing?" For all it knew, Desert had been sitting on his ass this entire time and picked the least strenuous of the spying opportunities to go on whenever he felt like it. "All you had to do is walk right out that door."

So, maybe it was being a little nasty.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

It had failed to see reason. Of course it didn't- why should he expect as such? All this creature knew to do was run for its pitiful, empty life. Its movements were mirrored by the longer dragon, his own back arching with the length of his scales making him look like an over-sized artichoke. A dance had begun, and he would be the lead in this play.

"Maybe I simply said the damn words because, hey, I wasn't going to fucking waltz right up to him and spout off on some random ass chrysalis that might share his gem! I wasn't gonna stop you if you wanted a flaming, for once." He spat, lips curled up in seething anger. Of course it was his gem- of course they should let him know if he came back around. But, now? It was hissing at him, wings flared while his shot out as well. He was tired of being in the supposed wrong all the time. Tired of this bullshit he had to wade through the moment he decided to get up off his ass.

Each word it spoke shot glass daggers right into Desert's skin- metaphorically, of course, despite the knowledge that it could if it very well wanted to physically. He let it finish its spiel, though- oh, he let it finish, tail lashing behind him with his teeth bared and head retreating closer to his shoulders. At the accusation, though, the pent up emotions came to a head. It was- It skipped over something. "Spent too much time doing what? Thinking?" The traitorous word was spat out of his mouth like a disease. "Are you insinuating rebellion? Are you going against your own word, Garnet? Are you so worried that the moment you let yourself think that you're gonna sympathize with the new beings? Grow a gem. I thought you had more sense than that." He paced now, once more, back and forth while keeping his head directly on Hemlocke. "Vargas gave us the option to find out what they were doing. I'd much rather be around when these children emerge rather than leave them high and dry to become like all the other brainless beasts around here. Maybe, if you don't trust yourself with basic choices, maybe I shouldn't trust you with my children." He halted, head hunched low as if he were about to pounce on a bit of prey. His wings curled up to meet perpendicular to Hemlocke in defense. He'd noticed his words. He didn't care. These were his children, this was his endeavor, and he would see it through if it killed him, if it meant losing one of the few he could put faith and trust in.

But, like he said, why should he trust Hemlocke? After all, all it did was pinpoint his own weaknesses, drive stakes directly into his heart. That wasn't an ally. That was a hunter, marking its prey. Hell, it was worse than Vargas- he had the authority to warn him. Hemlocke did not. Just like it said it didn't.

The door might as well been blasted open by this point. "I've stayed because I've made my choice. I've stayed to prove my loyalty, prove my willingness to act, but I did it of my own volition. Is that what you're afraid of? Choice? You're afraid you're going to take the choice to leave, to set your death in place the moment you decide to rebel? You know you won't. Stop being a coward, Garnet, and decide to survive." His muscles tensed in preparation for a coming fight, if one ever came. Hemlocke knew not to pick fights. Desert Rose refused to throw the first punch.

They had come to a standstill.

@Hemlocke

This wasn't a lethal sort of dance - if neither of them snapped beyond the brink, at least. Either of them were, unfortunately, too important to the continuation of trials and their enactment. Desert Rose was, as Hemlocke dully noted, the tactical leader of the Sentinels of the Sands. Hemlocke was the Eyes of the Overseer, holding his favor over their heads as a form of protection. His blessing, if you will. The odd alien had made the mistake of provoking, acting impulsively as if there was nothing to live for for the sake of trying to cut out a traitor's tongue. Look where that had gotten it.

But, that didn't mean it couldn't psychologically project; didn't mean it couldn't shove the flaws it subconsciously knew it possessed onto another.

"You wouldn't know shit about sympathy," Hemlocke began pacing, too, twittering and huffing like a tiger in a cage that would never be unlocked, never be sprung. "I could tell you'd been sitting on your fucking ass the entire time before I came to you about the Sentinels," the garnet spat, "not doing a single thing while I was being obedient, working, doing what my position and skills require. I got ahead while you twiddled your claws and mumbled your way through basic conversation." Its tail lashed, "you don't have the experiences to think and try and keep yourself from sympathizing and staying loyal to what matters. It's the willpower that matters. You - you're -"

It paused, if only to gawk. His children. Ruby-red eyes narrowed to slits, unhinged, his CHILDREN?! Did the selenite even hear his own words?! Was he so wrapped up in his damn - "that! That misspeaking! That's what I'm talking about - all of those little rebellions of yours. Those are the only things you have to call your own. Not the chrysalises. Not the authority. Not the -" Hemlocke made a series of noises, running out of words and articulating poorly, now, "these children don't belong to you. The thing we created does not belong to either of us. They belong only to the Overseer, and even then - they are left to the will of the Masters, if they want to claim them."

"I'm not a spineless coward. I'm not going to rebel," Hemlocke began to chirp, repeating itself once or twice, tail lashing behind itself as its eyes seemed to grow glassy. "Look at the bones - I'm not going to be like them. I'm never going to be like them." It was almost like it was assuring itself, at this point, but that could be easily missed with all of the pissing contest going on. "I'm not -" Oh, was that a little bit of a sob?

The alien cleared its throat, wings flaring once or twice, "you don't get to say what I am and am not afraid of, Desert Rose Thirty-Five. You don't get to say shit about me." Its metaphorical hackles raised further, but it remained squarely where it was.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

Desert's muscles tightened. Hemlocke was still going, still digging, still finding every flaw under the microscope on the dragon. His jaw lowered as though he were prepared to hiss again, though his lips stayed connected for now. "I was useless during that time. The masters had no need for me- Vargas had no need for me." His head curled inward defensively, his own tail twitching from side to side above the cave floor. "It's not like I was going to ask for purpose. I waited. I kept myself safe." Where was that Hemlocke from before, the one that has pulled him from that self-wallowing? There was the topic of discussion on keeping himself safe from what, too. He had a bad feeling that whatever'd happened during that lapse of memory... That wasn't good. Something happened to his brother during it. He wouldn't risk that happening to him.

His scales flared out as Hemlocke's voice and the tension in the air rose drastically. "I know what I said-"

His pupils drew to pinpricks. "Rebellion?" He spat out the word, his head rearing up like a snake ready to strike. As Hemlocke stumbled with its words, he spoke over them, barely hearing what the other had to say. "How dare you-" His voice was a low growl- he was stepping closer, now, his head down and eyes wild on Hemlocke. "These are my children. That doesn't mean I care for them. Leave them to die, leave them to rot and fester in Canis, but these- this is my legacy. Fuck it if they choose to die, but I will not have that stain on me if I have any say in it." He spat, now, claws scraping across the rock. "This is my chance to prove myself, Five-Seven-Nine. Not all of us get free passes. This- this is my chance to show that I am worthy of their fucking time. This is what we survived for."

A snarl rang loud and clear from his throat as Hemlocke continued. Desert, closer now, almost nearly stepping on the glass shards strewn about, felt... Something. Underneath that anger, that hatred, was there a bit of guilt? No. No- He shoved it down, shaking his head and gritting his teeth even further. No. He looked over Hemlocke as if he were judging the next prey. There was a vulnerability now, one he could take advantage of, but why? No- this hunting, these verbal attacks, this suited it much more. There was nothing to gain from taking his anger out physically.

It seemed it cleared out its mind, though. Too bad for it. Maybe if it wallowed, it could have found pity from the dragon. Instead, it only tried to jab back, tried to scrabble in on closing walls. Desert would laugh if he were a different person, as much as he wanted to, deep down in his core. Was it genuine? Was it nerves getting to him? He rumbled in intimidation as Hemlocke returned to its stance, sending Desert's mind off on a tirade of warning flags and defenses.

They all passed by in his blank state. Calm before the storm and all, Desert paused for a moment and drew himself up, eyes directly on Hemlocke's own. His lips twitched, his tail lashed, his ears pinned back over his skin and gem.

"You don't get to say shit about me either." He took in a breath before a loud roar funneled up his throat from his lungs. Adrenaline shot through him as he shot forward, leaping once, then up to Hemlocke's position on the spire it clung to.

He didn't know what he wanted to do to it. Scar it, make it bleed- like the rat it was. He was done. It needed to know how he felt, feel sympathy for him, for once. His jaws were open as if to take a bite out of his former (for now) companion. Maybe he could grab its neck, its arm, anything- Anything that he could bite down on and make it feel. Make it think for itself about how much it fucking hurt, for once. Understand how it felt to be betrayed through words when their survival depended on each other.

Round: 1/?
Attempt: Attempting to bite Hemlocke
Defense: N/A
Injuries: N/A

@Hemlocke

Hemlocke braced itself, back arching more and more, wings fanning out; this was as far as its posture could go short of hissing and spitting comme un chaton. No need?! - "yet, you didn't seem to bother making yourself available! Our meeting was happenstance." And right now, I wish it had never happened. All love was lost - if it had ever existed.

Being spoken over was the last straw, really, and if Desert hadn't thrown the first punch, it absolutely would have. It was irate, ruby-red eyes glistening with a fire to rival Raheerah's. He moved closer, and Hemlocke instinctively started to rise up on its hind legs, tail lashing, little hooked talons at the ready. "Free passes - you think being allowed to breed is a free pass to a legacy? That being the Eye of the Overseer is a free pass?!" Its tongue was getting loose. "Do you have any idea what the fuck I even do? Just because I'm not sticking my gem out into the open and into war doesn't mean I'm incompetent and get shoved along into the ranks."

Tension was so thick that not even one of the Overseer's claws could cut it - it could only be pulled to the point of breaking.

"I can say anything I please to you," Hemlocke hissed, the sound growing into a shrill twittering as Desert Rose crashed closer. Its wings beat against the fox-dragon as jaws closed around its throat and sent a roar of adrenaline and blood through its ears. Eyes growing wild for a moment and losing a grip on reality, the odd alien curled in on itself - twisting so that its hind legs were scrabbling and pushing against the selenite's own forelegs.

"Attacking me -" it wheezed through the teeth clamped fast against its jugular, "Vargas will have your head if I don't first - !" Off went a spark of magic, something pushing and tugging beneath its skin with such an intensity that it almost made Hemlocke nauseous. There was a bolt of something lancing out from its neck, spiking such a surge of pain that white stars danced and the world spun on its axis. It slumped in Desert's grip momentarily. The hotness running down its neck brought it sluggishly to reality, a wheezed "fuu-uck" gurgling out.

Calcified spikes had formed beneath its skin, and shot out at such an intense, unforgiving velocity that they left immense gashes all along the odd alien's throat - one tore through nearly half of its neck before exiting. They moved in all directions - perhaps, none of them landed in Desert.

Round: 1/?
Attempt: Casting Bonecase and putting a couple of spikes into Desert's mouth.
Defense: Bonecase (if it works!) and a whole lot of kicking.
Injuries: Bite on neck and... yikes.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five