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CYCLE 120Current time: Apr 04 2025, 02:49 PM


the day they found me IN Main Area
they say it's an old place
with ancient tales of
VIOLENCE and WAR
PASSION and SOUL
Offline
Inactive
221 POSTS ʡ 25
Male 66070 Cycles
Dragon choir

#1
Private 
 
MAGICKA LEVEL 100%
RESTORED TO 100%


He'd failed Vargas.

That was the only thing set in his mind that day. He failed his Overseer. He didn't deserve his name, his title- oh, he'd get chewed out for even stepping foot back in the Warren.

But it was his duty. It was Vand- No, the desert rose's duty. No. That wasn't his name. That had never been his name. As he soared through Canis to arrive home, he dug his claws into his palms, drawing blood to keep himself mentally grounded. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

How long had he been out? Eons? Where was everyone? The dragons weren't there. Was his Warren still there? Everything seemed right, he could see the old markers he used to make his way to the entrance. But everything was wrong, off, quiet.

The valkhound had to put himself into order. First thing's first, report back to Vargas. Find out what happened. Receive just punishment(?). Would the Overseer care to punish him? He'd done nothing, and that was the bad part about that. Oh caves, how would he survive this one?

His pupils had drawn to pinpricks as he frantically landed on the slope outside of the home den, head turning back and forth. It was so quiet here, so dusty, so... Empty. No. This wasn't right. Nothing was right- breathing hard, he kept his wings fanned out as he stepped inside.

"Hello?" His voice was pitifully high pitched, like he was a toddler sneaking into the dark. Wrong, this was wrong! All of his senses screamed at him to run, to leave before Vargas found him, before he made one wrong move. "It's Desert!" No, shut up, idiot! His breath faltered as he hissed out through his teeth, pacing about and curling like a snake.

He can't be alone. Not again.

@Hemlocke

 
 
OLD ENOUGH TO RUN
OLD ENOUGH TO FIRE A GUN
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174 POSTS ʡ 10
Genderless 66070 Cycles
Valkhound bunny

#2
 
MAGICKA LEVEL 100%
RESTORED TO 100%


Without Vargas and the rest of his forge, this warren was... empty, indeed.

Some strange desire had driven Hemlocke to make the decision to come back. At the time, it hadn't thought much on what that could be. It was made to test, to serve; such was its purpose, no matter how the times shifted. It'd been Eye of the Overseer, a scout where he needed it. Yet, when he was remade into a Master and named another Overseer...

... it almost... lost interest?

Forays into creation and testing outside of Hydra were frighteningly new. The monstrous beasts that were built by Vargas and his new Overseer were far beyond its realm of knowledge.

Its spawn had gone with him to Draco, but it remained.

It remained, and it waited in the silent cycle to come.

There was hardly anyone to maintain the Warren, so it fell to dust.

It often perched on a ledge overlooking the wall of chrysalis shards. A familiar sight for a Champion awakening to be shoved into a test like the lab rat it was. Champion, it'd think dangerously, what a title. Then, it'd backtrack and wing off the place to wait elsewhere.

After a few days, it'd forgotten that it was even waiting for something, and merely thought it was a patrolling routine. The Sentinels, singular as they were, were still beneath the Leviathan's domain. Even if he'd promised that they would be free, it... still... served him?

Hemlocke mulled over this as it curled up in its alcove, barely furnished except by a stray few shards of garnet—once a part of it, then part of two others' shells. Its legacy with...

With...

"It's Desert!"

Oh. His voice rang out, too strong and too clear to have been a figment of its imagination. Yet, as its satellite-dish ears circled up and listened to the breathing, the pacing entering the Warren, Hemlocke had to believe it true. It could've been a vivid hallucination (it hadn't eaten or drank anything in days, and its skin was getting a little loose around the ribs and stomach) but the subconscious drive to wait and find soared.

It glanced down the platform for only a moment before shooting off to land in front of Desert, ruby-red eyes glistening in a rare show of... earnest feeling. "Desert—" it searched him for any injury, any changes. Signs that he'd been attacked by the dragons he was meant to be spying on. Signs that he'd been killed elsewhere and they hadn't known. Signs to disprove Hemlocke's own silly little attachment to what was old and what was familiar. "I thought—" The alien hesitated, trying to straighten itself up. "I thought you'd died. It's not been long, but... so much has happened."

But, one thing at a time.

"I'll give you the update in a moment, but—are you okay?"


@Vander


 
 
they say it's an old place
with ancient tales of
VIOLENCE and WAR
PASSION and SOUL
Offline
Inactive
221 POSTS ʡ 25
Male 66070 Cycles
Dragon choir

#3
 
MAGICKA LEVEL 100%
RESTORED TO 100%


The fluttering of movement attracted Vander's attention, his ears twitching back to the origins. 'Hemlocke..?' He turned, bright eyes watching as the alien landed in front of him.

He took a step back, quiet, allowing it the time it seemed to need. Was it showing... Emotion? Was it okay? It looked so gaunt, and Vander's heart twinged in sympathy and recognition. He'd abandoned it. Swallowing down his nerves, Vander glanced to the side as he was investigated, only to look back as Hemlocke spoke again.

It had become so different. It had lost its hardness, grinded down by possibly decades of loneliness. No. He wasn't gone that long, right? He couldn't have been. Hemlocke said it wasn't that long. The mane over his tail tip brushed along the dusty ground as he mulled over everything. He was watching Hemlocke through the eyes of an apologetic child, not the eyes of a commander- but he could have this moment. They could have this uncertainty and let it be shared between them.

Vander's head shook as Hemlocke's worries were voiced. He was alive. Hemlocke was alive. The other sentinels must be okay, too, for Hemlocke to stay here. "I'm okay," he assured in a moment of raw emotion. No. Be professional, his mind drilled into him, and he straightened up, eyes briefly closing as he recalled his story.

"But- you know my task." He began deferential, watching as dust stirred from an idle gust. "I was monitoring the dragons of Monoceros. I was prepared to infiltrate. I had taken the name Vander, had the false backstory ready and everything." His fishhook claws dug into the rock below. The mane across his neck ruffled as his head shook gently, looking down to Hemlocke.

"But I chrysalized. It wasn't damage, it wasn't like the trials. Just exhaustion. Like I needed sleep, but a deeper one. I don't know if it was left over from the last trial, or if it was... Normal." His thumbs dug in harder, now, as he scraped the sides of them into the sand. "When I awoke, the dragons were gone. Everyone's gone, again. I came here as soon as I could, but-"

He stopped himself, taking a small step forward. "Are you okay? Have you eaten?"

'Did I abandon you?'

@Hemlocke

 
 



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