His attention hovered on Pride, the questions like a stream bubbling around the obstacles in their way—of course there was more.

"Outside?" he began, looking up. "Sure. To get there, you need to be chosen, and to be chosen, you need to succeed." Ruby eyes fell back to Pride. "And to succeed, you need to produce." Now, would Pride be chosen, or any of the Earth-based creatures? Hard to say. They were not exactly... useful. It had made the caves into a personal vivarium, cultivating Earth's creatures and then leaving them to be forgotten. His lip pulled into a frown at the thought. How blind he had been..!

A sigh. "But in here? Yes. There are two more quadrants we have not recovered yet—one of which houses Draco, the room that lives. It is the womb; if we are going to produce, we need access to Draco." His eyes flicked briefly to Vargas. "But Vargas and I will devise a plan to get there, and then likely recruit help."

Giggle had asked something else of him, and he considered her question for a moment. At first, he did not know what she meant, but as he continued to think on it, he did liken the description to Senka. "Ahhh," he said dully, clicking his tongue. "Yes. It is a place... between. Between this realm and another. It does not come from anything, it simply exists." His gaze bore into her, searching for something deeper, hidden; and then he pulled back, as if frightened by what he might have known.

"So yes, in a way, it is related, in that it can be accessed by those individuals. But it is a temporary place, a means of travel, and it is easy to lose yourself inside." This he said carefully, almost sadly, as he looked upon the hyena; he was not unaware of her turmoil many cycles ago. It is also a very opportune prison, as she had experienced. "We should be safe from it, going forward," he added. As long as they do well.

@Reign (etc.) @Aure (etc) @James @Damask @Temperantia @Giggle (etc)

Draco, the room that lives.

James found himself thinking about that. He hadn't yet explored all of the caves, but now that it was mentioned that there were new ones uncovered... perhaps he wanted to now. Like an adventure!

"... Gaul?" he asked, looking up at the other, "I'd like to leave now, please..."

James stood up and shook his flattened fur out, appreciating the grooming but not so much the feeling of wet fur. He tip-toed on each leg, finding them numb after laying on them for so long, and made his way towards the exit, taking one last look at Pride and waving a hoof in greeting before looking back to see if Gaul was following.

He trotted towards the exit, eager to leave the eye line of so many large gembound, with mouths full of feet and toes tipped with menacing claws.

Exit James unless stopped.

He looked at her. And she listened to his words, rapt--but there was something else, some strange glance he cast her way, some--fear...

Oh, it was a bad idea; she knew it was a bad idea, Astraea's magic beyond her. And he'd been honest, so far; why didn't she just ask-? But her instinct kicked in, and she reached out her mind, brow furrowing, trying to see what it was that he was seeing... or thinking, about her.

Perhaps she was too late, or perhaps it wouldn't work--but now he had her worried. -And interested.

The magic flickered. Failed.

Fuck.

Ahh, to hell with it; the hyena wasn't known for her subtlety.

"Wait. Why'd you look at me like that? -What'd you see?" she asked. When magic failed, may as well just. Ask.

rain stock: D Sharon Pruitt wiki commons; hyena Benjamin Hollis on flickr

Pride glanced around. Astraea had said his piece, and Vargas--apparently soon-to-be-Master Vargas--seemed done, as well.

The bit about void confused him, though he resolved to bear it in mind. And the words of the outside--that gave him... hope and trepidation, both. Good producers? So they would be freed, but only if they--what, gave away children? Or was it that 'fissioning' thing? Pride decided to think about all this later. It was too damning to consider, right now, and he was still on edge trying to ensure that peace was maintained.

He looked back over the various Seven present, and to the dragons, but to his surprise (and relief) Dread was only demanding to be taught how to read. Pride squinted at this, briefly, before looking back to the Master.

"I would very much appreciate being taught this art, as well, if it is possible. But--thank you all for coming, and for remaining peaceful, here. It seems we have an accord--and we needn't worry to deeply about our children after all. Thank you, Astraea," he added.

Because he wasn't sure how he could have dealt with 'you have to give us your kids,' in the end. This was... a relief, if a slightly somehow ominous one.

Pride turned, nodding to the Seven, and to the dragons, and stepped aside; if no one else addressed him, he'd simply wait and watch until everyone was gone.

exit Pride, unless stopped

Dread huffed, looking over those present, his fins briefly raising as if he were in thought. Draco. That sounded kind of like dragon.

...Past that, he had no real thoughts.

The dragon reviewed what he knew. Their children, apparently, were fine. They wouldn't have to give up stones--at least, Dread didn't think so? Astraea would give them Read and Writing. Or something. That was nice. He hoped they would be shiny, somehow.

Did that mean they'd won?

The dragon narrowed ember eyes in thought, then arched up his neck, fins rising along it. Triumph! They'd won--probably!

Some distant, less-idiotic part of Dread's mind whispered up, warning him to be cautious going forward, warning him that 'reading' was probably a verb and not a noun. He'd learn to read. It was knowledge, and he needed knowledge, because he was kind of dumb.

Dread accepted this inner voice's advice, his subconscious; in some ways he was still rather a child.

"GOOD. Then our children our safe, our stones are safe, and we will be taught to Read and to Write? This is good! WE WILL BE IN MONOCEROS."

He arched his head down again, to stare intently at Vargas. Overseer, Master, he cared not; so long as the beast stayed away from his children.

The dragon took wing, then, leaping out over the arena, over Astraea and Vargas, over Pride, his wings snapping out in a leathery rush to catch his weight. Agile, sleek in the air, three flaps took him up and out of the arena, soaring out into Orion and swiftly out of sight.

exit Dread

Bone listened, and watched, with a little more concern than her father did.

None of this seemed... quite right; there was something ominous about it all. Something about Astraea's words, about the Vargas... thing, about all of these revelations--other caves, other creatures, other masters--disconcerted her, tugging at her subconscious with flaring, quiet warnings.

She tried to cast out her mind, her magic, to learn more--but she was inexperienced with this. A flicker, a failure, and nothing.

"I would also very much like to learn what you have to teach," she said, and though her tone was soft, it was a dragon's voice and still very audible throughout the forum. It was clear that her mind was a little stronger than her father's; she'd inherited her wisdom, or perhaps the speed of her aging, from her mother instead.

When Dread took flight, she turned and nudged Svartis; a sort of 'right, let's go.' And she took wing after Dad--slower, more heavy in the air, all four limbs scraping at the ancient stone as she shoved herself airborne.

Her white shape lumbered after his agile black one, and she glanced back to ensure that Svartis was coming--and that Blight would find his way.

exit Bone/Blight

Reading.

Writing.

Masters, and caves.

Dragon hadn't felt this excited in many cycles. So often he was content to simply lie in his swamp, in the dark, watching for prey. Constantly feeding Aquarian's pile.

But... Outside. Outside! And the void-place-? Dragon listened intently, sharply, feeling that inner fire flicker up. Astraea's loyalties had always been questionable--Dragon's were to himself--but the Master didn't need to know that. As far as Astraea should know (Dragon assumed, unless he had some sort of ability to read minds--which he didn't entirely discount), Dragon had always served the Masters faithfully. Whenever they asked, he had been there, at many of the cave's various events since the Great Awakening; and now, his own eagerness drove him to offer more.

"You know that I have always offered my strength where I can! When it is time to open this place, find me in Cetus and I will come, and bring those willing!" he boomed.

The dragons--the true dragons--had made good their exit; and Dragon himself grunted and tried to take wing. He wouldn't let a flying lizard outdo him in his dragon-ness-! Plus, he was just that cool, himself.

The magicka started to flare--and failed; and with a disappointed grunt, the alligator resigned himself to a slow, limping waddle, instead, gazing a little jealously after Dread and his family in the sky.

exit Dragon

Temperantia's disgust was barely contained. They did not care about the Draco cave. Nor learning to read or write. They didn't need any of that. They didn't care about it. Especially if they took it off such a despicable creature.

"You'd all trust this creature then? No morals. Any of you. We expected better." Their eyes glared, briefly stopping on Pride. They would talk about this. How could the Seven claim to protect, yet work with such creatures as Vargas and Astraea? Was this another lie, as the Hive had lied to Temperantia? Hate boiled within them.

"We are done here. Leaving you creatures to your 'learning'." With that, Temperantia turned and flew off.


"When I speak."

When I think.

;Exit temp unless stopped

what's up i missed like 2 rounds but i'm thirsty for magicka, so, i'm back, babey
also i don't remember what table i was using but i'm using this one now

Aure turned slightly, whispering back to his darling, "we can leave, if you want -" Oh. Definitions, flying left and right, all too quickly to parse fully on the first go. The next round of questions and answers, at least, were easier to pack away in long-term memories.

Particularly that of outside. It made his wings and lungs ache in some vague way - yearning, but without a word to put to that feeling. Certainly there was a way to get there without subscribing to... all this - right? Just as there was to get to these... other quadrants.

The Bone King watched hesitantly as numerous Gembound - leaders or not - began to take their leave, satisfied with offering their own people to... recover the caves lost. Without asking... "what would you ask us to do, to take back these quadrants?" It wasn't accusatory, by any means, and Aure would help if it meant the survival of his family, but he worried. He wasn't sure how much more fighting he could take.

He waited while Giggle spoke, leaning down towards Damask, "do you have any questions to ask, darling?"

dialogue audible only to — you guessed it — @Auré !

"to get there, you need to be chosen; to succeed; and to produce."
ominous. a silent shudder coursed through damask's spine. why were all these answers so foreboding? and ... two more quadrants? a room that lived — ? the place between she set aside, albeit with a trace of bemusement at giggle's interest in it. that was abstract, amorphous, intangible; the rest was not. entire worlds existed outside. theirs was just the inside. the master made it sound like a trap, a cage, maybe even some kind of — nest? we're all so small. insects in a cave, that's all we are.

her father's thoughts echoed hers, if only one of them. "what would you ask us to do, to take back these quadrants?" she aimed another nod his way: very good question. but astraea had implied that his orders were still a work in progress. damask's concerns lay deeper down, farther ahead. if only she could just — but her voice, oh, she really needed to do something about that —

"do you have any questions to ask, darling?"

she started slightly. that's not just a prompt. it's an offer. a moment's hesitation. quicksilver eyes darted from auré's face and back, then shied away. really? you need your dad to ask your questions for you? how old are you again? some successor you'd make, can't even speak for yourself, better to say no and keep your mouth shut, not like anybody cares what you think — "what does he mean, produce?" damask spoke discreetly, lips scarcely moving, staring straight ahead. "when i was with lorekeeper, she alluded to a surface, up there; grass, trees, rivers, animals; no ceiling, just a yawning expanse ... of sky. her words exactly." there it was, the same surge of wonder, longing, sadness — as though something were missing — she'd felt on that day. "if he knows anything about that, i'd like to hear it." at last she glanced up at her father, a certain intensity in the look: wouldn't you?