- THE LEVIATHAN -

Every now and then, he checked on the chrysalises. Long limbs took him striding back over, where he'd sense the magic inside, test with his hand for warmth against the stone, reach out his powers to feel the slow and steady heartbeats of the sleeping.

They hadn't been ready, but they were getting there; and with Lord Dhracia's command close in his mind (and the slow realization that such stress would be his future eternal) he had begun to linger here. To check more often than he was training, to watch them more often than search for revivable shards of Oilstone. No: these were now more important than anything the Chaos Forge had. Lord Dhracia would be coming for this one--or, if it failed, perhaps (if she gave them time--if they were lucky) the replacement already gestating in a new cocoon.

These, though-... These were the first of a new batch. The first to be born in Draco in... millennia, Vargas thought. Bar Draconua, and he wasn't sure if she even counted.

These were, in fact, the first children ever to be born here, so far as he was aware: all the rest had been fully-formed monsters, but these-... would be something different.

It was probably a good thing the Master did not need to sleep: instead he watched, silent and fidgeting. It would have appeared cute--like a father worried over his coming children--if he weren't a monster, creating other monsters to hand to the queen bitch monster of them all.

Well. He was handing over one of them, at least.

The first thing to come to him was... warmth.

This sensation was distant from his freshly-stirring consciousness, a dim and wordless glow that rose with his gradually-wakening awareness.

It is warm.

For a time, silence, beyond the tick of heat, the soft thud of his own rushing pulse. He remained in slumber, the shadow of the Leviathan beyond his shell unnoticed. That shell had once been onyx: opaque, solid black. And now it was stained by corruption, gone a strange and beautiful oily hue.

He stirred, just a little, just enough to know this blackness.

It is dark.

His cocoon, warm and dark and embracing as it was--despite the chaos that it fed him, the weaving of impulsive urges and savagery into what had once been Guardian--had thinned. And as it began at last to crack, the second of the Black Dogs woke: the new heart of darkness, the Hound reborn.

There was a swirl of chrysalis fluids--black and unnatural--around him. He was awakening, now, sudden and complete, liquid in his nostrils as his lungs suddenly demanded air, teal eyes igniting in a brilliant glow as they first opened.

It is time.

He kicked out.

Once, twice.

Clawed feet, spined arms, lashed; though he was but a child, a puppy, a baby little monster, the movements were decisive and brutal. The first strike merely lanced the stone, the second cracking it, and after a beat in which the stone held--and all seemed, for a moment, suspended, waiting in a silent, frozen breath--it broke apart.

Chrysalis spilled him forth, a tumble and tangle of black limbs and blinking, glowing spots, coughing and ragged gasps, as he braced himself on hands and knees.

V-Onyx-One had hatched: and he lifted his gaze to the first creature that he saw, and awaited his instructions. He had a purpose--that much he knew. Now he waited to be given it.

strong language

The red chrysalis (turned oily and having lost color as the days went by), frustratingly had no movement, no sign that anything was in there aside from the gentle heat of a body within. No wonder Vargas was obsessing, this one seemed determined to give him a brain aneurysm even before it hatched.

But thankfully, it did move eventually. And unfortunately, that was because it was hatching.

A fist broke through the chrysalis wall, and talons scrabbled at the edges, ferocious snarls and growls leaking out from the hole made. Another hand made it through and broke and chipped away at the hole, before the beast within retreated.

Instead, it broke the top off and snapped out it's tail, small quills starting to push out from under the skin already. The beast lunged at the first thing it saw, which happened to be the figure of Vargas, with glowing eyes and scales and quills, all sorts of things that seemed oh-so interesting to a newborn.

"FUCK!!", the stupid thing screamed, it's head resembling it's predecessor, and it's screechy, downright grating voice the exact same as the one that insulted the Lord herself, and called Vargas a grape.

Small wings, incapable of flight flapped as hard as they could, trying to extend the frankly impressive jump the creature made. Talons extended, each of its six thumbs flexed and ready to grab. Its bottom jaw split in two as it prepared to make contact, to latch on and hang on for dear life, to inflict pain and agony upon anything it saw. Truly a beast of chaos.

"FUCK!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!", it screeched, glaring at Vargas with its big red eyes, pure seething hatred in them, as if it knew, but of course it wouldn't.

But you got the feeling it did. Or else that gem was just predisposed to birth assholes. Maybe both.

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

violence

(and hitting a kid)

- THE LEVIATHAN -

When the movement and cracking began, Vargas sat down quietly a few yards off to observe. He'd aid if needed--if they began to drown, or otherwise die--but he would let it get that far, first. He wanted to see if they could manage on their own, to gauge weakness and strength even this early on.

They both hatched cleanly, for the most part. And, to some extent, each showed the nature of their birthright: chaos. Onyx-One broke its way free without hesitation--slightly clumsy, but that was to be expected from these child-spawn.

Agate-One emerged more violently, and Vargas was both pleased and irritated to note that it at once took after its predecessor. Lord Dhracia would, perhaps, be pleased; but until she arrived to take it, it would be a damn nuisance to look after. Was this her plan? he thought sourly, even as Agate launched itself for his face, all claws and snarls. A practical joke, inflicted for his torment-? He jerked back, one hand lifting to try and bat it away before it connected.

...Yes, this one already took after its stonegiver.

Vargas looked to the dog-thing, first, eyeing it over as he allowed the Agate to recover its balance or what have you. It had shifted its gaze, unsettlingly motionless, to Agate--attentive, then; alert. Good. The dog that had died had interested him: it had been touched by the Creator's magic, yet its origins had been among the base 'Gembound' of the caves. He was curious to see how it had come about and, more importantly, where it would go. While disappointed that the original had died, he would see how this one fared. The test had not been a true trial, and he would give this one a second chance. "You are V-Onyx-One. You will be known as The Sentinel, and you will be raised to guard this cave and its entrance, and those within it."

He then looked to Agate, all this thought and speech having taken but a second. He ignored its swearing, though some distant part of his brain pricked up, wondering if it somehow had retained memories of its hatred for him. Or maybe this thing's blood was just that chaotic, after all. "You are V-Agate-One. You are a gift for Lord Dhracia, and I think you will please her. You will train in whatever you want, but you will be taught to fight, to sneak, to assassinate, as well."

A pause, assuming they let him continue, and then he spoke further. "You are both of the Chaos Forge. Do you understand any of this at all-?"

They were clueless things, so young. Would they even grasp their designations, as yet?

strong language

Hate hate hate hate hate- she hated Vargas! Stupid Thanos-looking motherfu-

She was flung to the side, claws scrabbling on the stone as she tried to keep upright, but her momentum sent her onto her side and she went rolling instead. Furious, she stood back up, wings flared and her quilly tail lashing back and forth. She hated everything!

"FUCK!", she yelled, claws grinding against stone as she ran forward again.

She was definitely as stupid as her predecessor, too. She ran towards Vargas, wobbly and unsteady, running despite her legs not able to keep up. A leg collapsed beneath her and she shrieked, tumbling head-over-heels and smashing her face against the stone.

In a fit of anger she thrashed around like a fish caught in a net, furious at her own baby self, not able to understand that she had limits and that pushing those limits too far lead to consequences. And of course, she blamed it on Vargas.

"FUCK YOU!", she hissed, ears pinning and her small quills raising and making her look like the world's pointiest asshole.

But hey, she knew two words!

Vedette (for that was her name, V for VENGANCE and all that) tasted blood and paused, wondering where it was coming from. She wiped her nose on her arm and stared at the black oily substance on her arm and hissed at it, wiping at her nose some more and only growing more frustrated as it didn't seem to be coming off! She wiped and wiped and it just kept coming, and she made a squealing noise, stamping her feet in anger.

She didn't even consider that she was hurt, that the pain in her nose was what was causing such a thing to occur, her peanut brain having not connected the dots. It would be a miracle if she did, honestly.

"FUCK!", she wailed in frustration, her arms covered in blood with no end in sight (at least to her, a few minutes and the blood would clot).

Vedette shot a horrible glare at Vargas and wiped at her nose more, temporarily distracted by the enigma of this mysterious endless stream of black goop.

'You are V-Onyx-One. You will be known as The Sentinel, and you will be raised to guard this cave and its entrance, and those within it.'

This was before him: hulking, patient, authoritative. The puppy listened, focusing intently, trying to decipher the words and the meaning. Of 'Chaos Forge' only the first word sparked some recognition--and as if on cue, the thing off to one side was screeching. 'FUCK!'

The Sentinel turned his head, peering at her with all his too many eyes, unblinking. This was done in silence, near-stillness, as he observed: he took Agate's actions in, giving no indication of what he himself thought or felt. Instead he turned back to Vargas, at length. "V-Onyx-One. The Sentinel," he slowly rasped, and whether it was mere echo, repetition--or whether he truly understood the meaning of what he said--was unclear.

Inside, however, words were ticking past, unsaid. The Sentinel. I am the Sentinel. I will guard an entrance, and this cave. At this, the hound-beast's head turned so that his gaze could scan the cave--he ignored Agate, for the most part, and her blood and her tirade. Instead, gradually, he took in what he could of this place he was to guard: the light (which should have been strange to him, but he'd been born to it and knew nothing else, as yet), the towering, shifting Black Spire, the breathing Aperture in the distance.

This, then--all of this--would be his responsibility.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

A long, slow sigh escaped him, toxic eyes turning jaded as he gazed upon the Agate. This... was a mistake. But it was a mistake his Lord desired, and so he would keep it, train it. Endure its too-concentrated chaos. This thing was like Draconua, embracing the insanity and the violence, but in a tiny, idiotic package of quills and feathers and fur. What have I done, the Master thought with dry and sour blandness. "You are bleeding," he told it, "because you are acting like an idiot. Use words beyond 'fuck,' and we might communicate," he added. Did it even understand that-? "You are not to attack myself, nor any of the rest of the Chaos Forge. You will attack other things with them, understand-?"

A grimace crossed his features.

Where was Garnet-Delta-? Could he just hand this thing off to it, straightaway?

The Sentinel, however, seemed a more apt pupil. It listened, it repeated back (and did it understand, or merely parrot-?). "GOOD!" he told it, in a booming voice. At least this one wouldn't be much work.

@Vedette

strong language

Vedette narrowed her eyes and shook her head out, blood splattering and hopefully hitting Vargas. She stood and lashed her tail back and forth, pissed off and knowing just how to get under Vargas' skin.

"Fuck," she said, and then, more pointedly, "You."

How was that for more words?

She growled and refused to sit or remain still, refused to obey and to be even a little bit cooperative.

"GRAPE!", she yelled, jumping up like a startled cat, her back arching as she clawed at the ground, aching to sink her teeth into Vargas' hide and see what color he was underneath, "Fuck you, Grape!"

If Vargas wouldn't use her name, then she wouldn't use his! Not that she knew it. She just hoped his name wasn't Grape. But if it was she was going to be delighted, for what a thing to bully the kaiju bastard for.

She looked at Sentinel as he answered the other, hissing at him. Ugh, some boot-licking asshole, of course. Of course such a thing was her sibling. Made to hold her back. Man was she vain.

"Fuck," she grumbled quietly, and peered around too, backing up and away from Vargas.

Screw this.

She scuttled towards the nearest wall and latched on, wings flapping as she made her way towards the ceiling, determined to find a way out. She hated this place, hated Vargas, hated everything! FUCK!!!

He listened in silence to the conversation--words that did not involve him, but words that held meaning to be unlocked, nonetheless. And his head turned to watch Agate, in the meantime.

The loud praise of the Master drew his gaze back to it, and he observed. This was good: he was rewarded, told that he had done well. He did not crave approval, but he tasted it and found it good.

He did not speak, however. The Leviathan's attention was torn away nonstop, any training the Sentinel might have received instead drawn away by the screeching quill-thing. The Sentinel's gaze shifted to her and he watched--staring, unblinking, unmoving--observing, waiting to see what would come of all of this.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas turned, bellowing out: "V-CHAOS-TWO!" If it were here, it was time to introduce it to this tiny monster and to assign it its new duties. He had no intention of babysitting more than he needed to; he'd let Chaos-Two live and it would pay for that with annoyance.

The Agate was scurrying away, a few drops of oily blood having hit his hide--he did not care--and he noted to himself that he might have to break its wings to keep it here. Irritation rose in him, and he thought nothing of Dhracia, for a moment, or of the ideas of "children" or "family." He was not enraged, but he was finished, his patience running out.

"ENOUGH," he boomed. "Lord Dhracia may require you, but until she COMES for you, you are MINE and you will OBEY." He would teach it by force, if needed; he had no desire for the constant, aggravating battle of raising a second Chaos-One.

The Leviathan strode forward, aiming to snag the little thing where it leapt for the cave walls (and wasn't that familiar; how many times had he had to pry One from the tunnel ceilings-?) and twist one wing with a short and savage movement. It wasn't intended to snap it, but certainly to hurt: he had no intention of losing this thing before his Lord came to collect.

@Vedette (and chaos-two maybe??)