For @Vargas and/or any other Chaos Forge members

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

depression

disordered eating

vomit

The sigh rattling through its chest hurt—old scars in its lungs were acting up lately—and it squirmed minutely against it. A half-hearted cough stuttered past its throat, which it then cleared. Rather than let the full brunt of that out, though, it just swallowed and flopped down into the alcove. Back pressed against the wall, spine half-twisted to fit inside. There was just the one access, and it was positioned so that its head stuck out first. Its chin fell heavily onto one forearm, and it sighed again. Innards gnawed and twisted into themselves, but their owner had already settled into place; it could wait another day to eat.

It was already on day three without any proper food.

The thought never fully occurred to it, even when Chaos-Two would approach with an offering and try to talk to it. Every time, Alpha denied it and sent him packing with a nip to the heels, "forced" to aggression by the poor thing's pressuring. Eating didn't occur to it, even when it took one of the Forge's spawn to Pegasus for a hunting excursion. They were too small to take on one of the large, shaggy beasts; so, any catch they got, it had them keep or give to the rest of the Forge.

Only when it was really on the brink did it remember to snare a deer or rabbit and choke it down all too quickly. About half the time, it was throwing it back up in some secluded corner. Bile was one of few things it knew how to taste.

Its exoskeleton did a poor job of really reflecting the way it was growing loose around its bones; but, the lethargy surely did. When it wasn't (poorly) living and breathing through the job of Overseer, it was holing up somewhere in restless sleep (lime-tinted eyes always haunted its dreams, if they had the chance to come) or milling about with a particular, measured slowness. When others were looking, it'd pick up the pace and find itself becoming out of breath by the time it was out of sight.

When it was attempting to train the Forge's young, it was with total—if subconscious and unintentional—disinterest. Its "lessons" had progressed from being passably interactive and engaging to lobbing the student at some task and giving empty praise if they succeeded. Alpha rarely watched them go about their tasks, instead staring off into the distance or being caught up in some silly, idle task like ripping clumps of grass out of the ground.

Surely, someone had noticed—even with the orthoclase plastering on a facade of having everything together. It gave Vargas its (dry, pathetic) reports on progress. It kept an eye on the aperture when the Sentinel wasn't practicing. It tailed Chaos-Two when he it wanted to go somewhere in the caves for whatever reason. It checked in on Doctor and Kethri and their merry little band of subjects and assistants.

And, neglectful and forgetful as it was about eating or any other actual creature need, it stayed consistent about grooming and making sure all its quills were in order. There'd been too many questions it did not want to answer before, because it'd "looked like shit." It kept itself from throwing up in front of anyone and acted like it wasn't exhausted beyond belief. It was almost convincing, if you ignored the way it was so mentally distant.

It was conscious enough about that. Yet, it couldn't place a finger on the reason for this... feeling—or even be fully aware of it. The transition had been subtle enough, and... was it really hiding any more than it had been before? Hardly anything had been exposed before, and anything that was had no real meaning. It was just going about its business as Overseer, was gleaning no conscious engagement, and was pursuing nothing else to fill the gap. No issue there...

... right?

Alpha shuffled a little, putting its arm in the crook of its jaw and horn, and huffed. Its eyes, dull as they were, slipped shut. Maybe it'd hunt something when it woke up, to stave off the feeling of hunger and unease.

V-Zoisite-One was not so forward as their clutchmate. From an early age, they had been pushed away by their lifegiver, the mother-child relationship refused despite quiet attempts to reach out. At some point, Zoisite had stopped trying to speak to their Overseer. It didn't stop them from seeking the orthoclase out, from shuffling close during gatherings and trips, cautious to stay out from underfoot and yet... Instinctively, feeling the safety of their predecessor.

They had watched from a distance. They had sometimes brought food, had sometimes attempted to share, but such attempts faded with each dismissal. Watching Chaos-Two try to speak to Orthoclase-Alpha from a distance-- never close enough to hear much of anything-- was like wrenching out their own heart. They imagined conversations, pretended their way through stumbling words that pantomimed what they thought was going through the Overseer's head. Ultimately, they knew they had no idea. Ultimately, they knew what they wanted clashed directly with what Orthoclase-Alpha wanted, and so, they didn't broach the subject.

That did not stop them from attempting to show some small scrap of... Tenderness, would be the best word for it. They stopped giving gifts, stopped staring, stopped making even quiet comments to Orthoclase-Alpha in hope of approval. The last time they had spoke had been when they had offered the Overseer a preserved flower, and since then...?

The only thing that the Zoisite could offer was company. Unwarranted, unwanted, but desperate to make some small difference in their lifegiver. They didn't have the knowledge, nor the wisdom, to know that they could not make someone change... But the hope never quite went away. It was the reason why they crept over to Overseer Orthoclase-Alpha while it... "rested", as much as it ever did.

The violet, smaller kaiju was not one for physical attention. In one of many small ways, they shared a prickly exterior that wanted others to keep their space. So they nestled themself a good, slightly more than Alpha-armlength away... Out of swiping distance, though a lunge or snap might still get them if they were not quick enough to react. They turned their head away from Orthoclase-Alpha, setting a few golden eyes to watch the far wall.

And maybe that was pushing it. The longer the silence stretched, the more hopeful the zoisite was that they could act as though they had simply picked this spot for no reason in particular, that they could both brush it off as coincidence. Maybe it would be okay, if they were both ignorant to it. Maybe they could reach their Overseer that way. Through some small, insignificant existence.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had, and normally one might say "of course," noticed. But the "of course" wasn't so much a given, these days, and in fact it had taken longer than it should have.

Part of that was down to his duties--he was still planning his next creation, and getting everything together for it. It was going to be a big one, and the first wholly of his own design since coming to Draco, and he wanted to get it right. So, where normally he was eagle-eyed in terms of the state of his creatures, his 'team,' he had been half-distracted for weeks. And the other big part was in Orthoclase-Alpha itself. He'd been trusting the Orthoclase to look after everything for him: to Oversee, as was its job, the training and well-being of the rest of the Chaos Forge.

He'd first begun to realize that something was... off, a couple weeks ago, but he had been busy; he'd made a mental note to return to it and check again. Perhaps the Orthoclase was merely tired, or having a bad day. But he'd noticed a continuous, if slight, decline in the Forge as a whole. Training was lagging. The others too often had little to do, and mention, when asked, had been made of the Orthoclase seeming somehwat disengaged from its work. That mental note had strengthened, and Vargas had begun to pay more attention, then.

And to watch the Orthoclase, itself.

His Overseer was notably lethargic. Weary. Vargas was unsure why and if he knew Alpha at all, he knew that confronting it directly--asking about it--would lead nowhere. The thing didn't know its own mind, and it didn't speak about it, either. So he had thought about it. Instead of his Overseer taking a weight off his mind, then, it had become another weight, and that was an irritation; but he knew that sometimes things went wrong. He would not blame it--perhaps it was his own fault--but he would try to fix it. And so he had set out to brainstorm, to think of what could best be done. He'd eventually hit on an idea, and he didn't know if it would work--and it would set him back one Overseer, for a time, perhaps. But he was virtually without one anyway, right now (bar Delta, and that was an Overseer of another sort entirely).

And so he sought it out, this time, striding with long limbs toward the distant scent of Orthoclase--it took some time to pinpoint it, even in the relatively small cave of Draco but for once Vargas did not wander around bellowing its name or title. Instead he sought it out--and found Zoisite curled not far off.

Unexpected.

He eyed them both, and then looked to the Orthoclase.

"Overseer," he said, studying it briefly--watching the way its body seemed somehow lighter beneath the carapace (which undoubtedly shielded most of its condition from sight); the way it laid there as if no energy yet remained. "I would speak to you." He glanced at Zoisite; he didn't order it off, for now, but he did add, "You might wish privacy. That is your decison." He wasn't sure if the Orthoclase would respond the same with Zoisite there or not, but it wouldn't hurt to have both of them hear what he had to say.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Claws shuffled in a hurried little rhythm, and Alpha merely sighed in response. It didn't so much as crack open an eye to acknowledge the zoisite that'd come over—nor the fact that it did not sound like it was leaving. If it had to guess, the creature had not-so-subtly curled up right there, without a word. Neither of them had had a word pass between them in some time, even with the former insistence on gifts and talking—why were they always persistent about that... gifts. Pride had given it one of those once.

Look where it was now: mixed in with the sands of Tunnel P, never to be whole again.

In any case, the orthoclase just made a note of Zoisite's presence. It's here, over and out. Could it have even been warmed by the company, if it spent more than two seconds thinking about it? It... didn't know.

It would have slipped into uneasy slumber if not for the smooth, thumping footsteps approaching. They were purposeful, meaning—it peeled its eyes open (something that shouldn't have taken that much effort) and glanced upwards. While the shape of Vargas was blurring into focus, it shifted and straightened reflexively. Buttoning up, one might say.

Even still, it was barely skimming the surface of wakefulness; it was incapable of covering up its overly sedate glance Zoisite's way, nor its half-acknowledgement of the master's even being there. Alarm bells raged in its head, and yet... it was just staring up blearily. There was too much of a delay before it rocked up to its feet. If there was a stiffness or slowness to its movements, it quietly hoped it went unmentioned. Lurching forward gave it the momentum to come out of its temporary den. Quills clacked lazily against one another.

"Yes—" its voice crackled from disuse, and it growled softly, "yes, Master Vargas." Unease sat heavy in its gut, and yet—it couldn't bring itself to panic. This was routine; this was not irregular. No, the Leviathan had sought it out quietly, like he was trying to keep something under wraps—"what is it?"

Alpha glanced down at its own two forelegs and the ground before taking another step forward; half-indicating that it'd follow him away from here rather than outright answering for a decision.

@Vargas @V-Zoisite-One @V-Chaos-Two

V-Chaos-Two approached from the other side of the cave, Vedette curled up on their chest, fast asleep. Thank God, she'd have tortured them all endlessly, had she been. At least they were taking to their babysitter role, and had managed to tame Vedette using... well, kindness. Offering enrichment from Pegasus, leaves and nesting materials to mess around with, as well as live prey on occasion to test her skills.

Right now they'd managed to tucker her right out, so they doubted she'd be awake for a while.

They stopped, standing on all fours as they saw Vargas and Alpha, the Leviathan looking like he wanted to talk to Alpha. Ah, so he'd come just a few minutes too late.

They dropped the rabbit they had in their jaws and retreated, curling up somewhere around their charge to wait and listen. Hopefully Zoisite joined them. Perhaps they could have some solidarity between them in their failure to get Alpha to open up.

No protest came. It was as good as Zoisite could expect.

The peace didn't last long, and as a heavy shadow, tinged with green afterglow fell over them, they found themself growing still. Master Vargas addressed the Overseer, appropriately, and then suggested "privacy". The zoisite did not have to tilt their head to know of the acidic eyes were barring down on them. They didn't move.

They listened to the crackling of their lifegiver's voice, head shifting up from the earth, still staring down at the dark stone. They did not make any motion to look, in part because they had no subtle way of doing so. They waited, patiently, for the words to dismiss it, to shoo it off. None came. They were filled with paralyzing decision, the neurons in the brain firing dangerously without any response from the body.

Orthoclase-Alpha's heavy body scrapped against the stones, foot steps shaking the earth. Another set of sounds scampered closer, clumsy and lopsided, an uneven gait that... V-Zoisite-One cheated, finally tilting their head sideways to face the sound, catching sight of V-Chaos-Two. Chaos-Two dropped the piece of meat (shutter) they had carried over, and then retreated, watching from a respectable distance.

V-Zositie-One didn't pay their clutchmate further attention, pushing up on to their feet, glancing up at Master Vargas. Mandibles parted, jaw prying open, as if to speak. Snap. Closed again. The Overseer had not said it wanted privacy. Master Vargas... They thought he was implying that he thought it better they were not involved.

In the end, they stood, head twisted to stare at the older Chaos Forge members. Unable to speak, not making any attempts to retreat. Just... Standing there, expecting one or the other to shoo them away. Hanging on to the chance that they would not forbid them.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Since it did not ask for privacy, Vargas made no attempt to provide any. He assumed that the Overseer was close enough to its kindred, here, that it did not mind them overhearing--he wasn't entirely sure, what with these "relationships" and "family" that these new generations had.

"You have lost your drive," Vargas stated bluntly, as a beginning, which was a very questionable way of remarking on the Orthoclase's apparent lack of joy. "To get straight to the point, I want you to find it again. Not for me, or for the work, but for yourself. And I'm not," he went on, turning to stare briefly in turn at Chaos-Two, and at Zoisite--"suggesting that this is an easy fix. I do not know if you will find your solution but I know you will not find it here. I am a creation of chaos, and you are bearing burdens we were not made to understand." Here Vargas paused, thinking. "Unless you have some new answer for me, if I ask you what is wrong? -If you still do not know, then I suggest you take the time to look for your own answers however you must." He could've added a "you are useless to me like this," but it was not how he'd have meant it. More... that things were always moving fast, now, and if the Orthoclase was still preoccupied, it was time to solve it, rather than let it merely get worse. Toxic eyes briefly travelled over Alpha. "This is not a punishment. It is concern. Would that I know what is wrong with you but I do not. Try and find someone who does--someone who can help you. It may not be among the Masters; it may be among these Gembound. You don't have to leave Draco, but you may. -And before I make a complete fool of myself," Vargas went on, dourly, "it is true that you have barely been eating, yes-? Perhaps you are only preparing to moult," he mused, eyeing the exoskeleton. Did Orthoclase-Alpha ever moult..? He thought it had. "But if you are still miserable, go take a... what do they call it. A vacation," the Leviathan finished, pronouncing the word as though it were foreign on his tongue.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Another figure had lumbered into view, but its tunnel vision put them far out of sight or mind—for the moment.

Soon as Vargas started to speak, the vignette of its periphery went blindingly white. It clenched its jaw. Keeping its head perfectly level, it glanced into is periphery, searching. In an instant, it was locked up and feeling a scathing heat down its spine. The defensive reflex soared into high gear—but, there was hardly room to engage it. "You have lost your drive" was not an accusation nor a disparaging remark.

No, it was a statement; one that Alpha seized at. Weight (small, small weight) shifted foot to foot, and its dull-pointed quills prickled. Unsteadily, it glanced past the Leviathan and at the exit—calculating the odds of barreling through him and making its escape. To its dismay, they were slim to none. Every part of it felt too heavy.

It was tempted to just close its eyes again. The warning throb of its skull said otherwise. It blinked instead and quietly set its sights back on Vargas while he spoke.

And, while he spoke, it was fading in and out of the roaring static in its mind. The zoisite and other spawn were figures gamboling about its attention span—constantly reminding it that they were here and they could see all those cracks in the foundation (they had for a while, now; Alpha could not hide everything)—and they could see where the entire building was on the verge of collapse. A limb quivered in place, and it dug its claws into the stone to make it stop. Teeth gnashed harsh against one another. Failure burned hot in its throat, acidic and nothing but bile and half-digested food.

Failure… to hold steady, to be capable, to be strong, to be invulnerable, to be the Overseer that its master wanted—

But, how? How? How how how how how how how how how—

Where its gaze had slid down to the ground, Orthoclase-Alpha stiffened and snapped its head upwards. Toxic eyes didn't quite meet, but any eye contact would've been fleeting, anyways. "Yes, molting," Alpha murmured, with hardly any conviction. A heady silence stretched thin before it finally spoke again, hoarsely and too softly: "can we talk somewhere else?" It tensed and recoiled instinctively, and did not relax when Vargas inclined his head in a bow and indicated for it to lead. Alpha tried to level a glare at the spawn, but it fell flat with those dull eyes and the slightest wobbliness in its gait.

Walking did become easier after a bit of pacing, but only for the monotony of the movement. When the two of them were by their lonesome, it'd forgotten the why— of coming here and it faltered in its steps. Oh—

Alpha steeled itself and pivoted on the spot (without too much uncharacteristic stumbling) to face him again. It choked down the gasping breath threatening to escape its lungs. A subconscious step backward punctuated its too-quiet-to-hear question. Chitinous exoskeleton met the stone wall with a quiet grinding.

Having backed itself against the wall again, Orthoclase-Alpha croaked, "what did I do wrong?"

Tagging @V-Zoisite-One and @V-Chaos-Two so that they can post their exits and split off into another thread?
Primarily for @Vargas

V-Chaos-Two sighed. Alpha wanted privacy. Well, that was something they could give, so they would. But first, they'd grab the attention of Zoisite, perhaps they could talk.

"Come," they mumbled, bumping their head against the other's body, unsure of where a shoulder really was.

They lumbered off, taking two steps before putting their staff down to lean on, then another two, plunk, another two, plunk...

And then they were out of earshot.

@Zoisite
Thread link --> /showthread.php?tid=9308
Exit chaos-two

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas vaguely noticed the signs of stress--the digging claws, the tensed limbs, grinding teeth, pricking quills. Each was subtle, though together they painted a picture--yet still, he had no idea of the severity of it. He assumed resentment--the Orthoclase didn't want to be called out, he thought; it wanted to continue pretending.

He knew nothing of the stress, the strain, that threatened to shatter the carapace rather than simply shed it.

Well, it wanted privacy--perhaps it hadn't realized the extent, then, of what he'd been about to speak of. That was fine, and he followed amiably enough, half his mind still on his other work. The Orthoclase's question--'What did I do wrong?'--caught him by surprise, as much as a sudden attack would have, and he peered at it briefly before responding. "I did not say you had done anything wrong. You have not done anything wrong. -If you are asking about why I am suggesting all of this, it is because you have seemed--distant. Weary, disengaged, and I have been told, eating very little." If only he'd known the true extent of it, Vargas would've been far more concerned, and for more than the Orthoclase's well-being. Still, he paused--trying to get over his mild surprise at Alpha's assumption. A brief check over his memory and he added, "I do not think you have ever done anything wrong--not particularly. Well, aside from the dragons," he added, with mild amusement in his tone. "Do you understand?--That this is concern, and not punishment? Take me at my word, Overseer. Relax for a time, and try to find something else to put your mind to. Something you enjoy," he added, trying to sound reassuring.

For him, it had been easy: his work, his assigned tasks, were what he enjoyed. But it was obvious that this wasn't the Orthoclase's calling. Perhaps it would find it; perhaps it wouldn't, or maybe something would bring it back to its work with newfound interest. Vargas had no idea, really, but everything so far hadn't been working, at least.

Vargas eyed Alpha, and something about its posture--the chitin backed to the wall, the way it had essentially cornered itself--struck a chord in him. Suddenly he realized that something might be really wrong, more than a little weariness and stress, more than overwork. He studied it briefly, and then stepped deliberately two long, Vargas-length paces backward to give it space, before settling down on his haunches.

Ahh, if he only had a tale to share--some quiet anecdote about some time he had lost his will, and found himself confronted with misery and confusion. But he didn't. He'd been made to be relentless, a single-minded machine with a purpose and a drive that would thrust him through millennia, and it had. And so the Master was left, paradoxically, with nothing to grasp at to help he, or Orthoclase, through this situation. He lacked the tools--the experience--to handle this. All he could do, then, was reiterate--more slowly, more clearly, to ensure that Alpha heard past whatever it was flooding it with misery. "You have done nothing wrong. This is not the end of anything, Orthoclase-Alpha, and you've nothing to fear." It might've sounded dramatic, if he was overestimating the situation, to some--but to Vargas it was what it sounded like. In his life, one did not get fired. If one failed at their job they were killed. And so, this reassurance was a kindness--even a necessity. "Tell me-" and here was sudden curious inspiration--"if one in your care, in your responsibility, began to behave as you are--what would you recommend?"

Would this perspective help? Vargas didn't know; he didn't know how to handle this. But perhaps the Orthoclase came with some pre-programmed instinct that might help it to figure it out, if only its point of view could be nudged in the right direction.

Or maybe, Vargas thought, grimly, it's too far gone for that. What I do not understand is, why?

@Orthoclase-Alpha