set just after an attempt to burn down pegasus

The trip had been short and uneventful, save for the occasional glare thrown over a spiked shoulder, or needing to pause for a moment because of her legs seizing up from a stray bolt. Draconua bit down her reaction to the latter, always urging herself into stiff-legged motion with a thin grimace. Best to make this as short and sweet as possible, so she could go back to doing what she did best: trashing the place.

"Master Vargas," she rattled as soon as her sights landed on the violet behemoth. Her pace quickened by the smallest degree, mouth continuing to waver between a grin and a grimace.

She stopped about ten feet off from the Leviathan, and mutely stared back at the "Guardian of Pegasus." Were her muscles not twitching without restraint, the Sleepless Chaos might've gone back onto her haunches—somehow secure in her position against Vargas.

Alas, she was just standing there, twitching impatiently for Azigh to speak.

... how polite.

Azigh took measured strides after the valkhound. His lantern was now slung casually over one of his (many) shoulders, grip gone slack. Of course, any sudden movements from the sporadic beast had him preparing for attack—but, they made it.

Once the Master had given his acknowledgement and strode over, Azigh bowed his upper half. "I hope you and your own have been well since the fight," he echoed by way of businesslike demeanor, "Master Vargas."

(He'd seen them, on occasion, prowling through the fields of Pegasus. It was hard not to notice the beasts subsisting on the herds of meadow deer; many of the Gembound would find themselves incapable of challenging them in direct combat, so it was quite a sight to witness.)

He shifted the pole from one shoulder to another, "head" twisting to gaze at Draconua. "This one was rampaging aimlessly through Pegasus," he gestured with a scarring-over arm, "attempting to start a fire, and surely preparing to attack those who were live there."

The harshness of his voice was not directed at Vargas, of course—but, it was the sound of a teacher telling a parent about their delinquent child and how much of a troublemaker they were. "It's fortunate that I caught her so soon." It softened as Azigh looked more directly at him and continued, "I do not wish to see Pegasus—or any other cave, for that matter—levelled. With all due respect, Vargas, I will not allow this to happen a second time."

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

For Azigh to come to him, and greeting him as a Master, was a good feeling. It was a sudden, unexpected reinforcement of his new reality: his new rank, his new authority, his new responsibility. It swelled his chest just a little with what he hoped was well-earned pride. His initial greetings--a murmured "We are well, thank you. And you?" and so forth were quickly replaced by more important matters.

...Ahh, but the responsibility that came with being a Master: here it was. He peered at Draconua, listening solemnly as Azigh spoke. And for a moment, Master Vargas was silent, coming up with an appropriate, but respectful enough, response. He'd never been quite a wordsmith, but he wasn't a fool, either; he'd certainly had to do the verbal dance of "flattery, but not idiocy" around Nemean enough and that dance had "potentially fatal" written in each misstep. When he cleared his throat, then, it was with vague bemusement but genuine respect--not deference, no, but as one might speak to an equal, a colleague.

What was it Azigh had last said-? He would not let this happen a second time? "As well you shouldn't. This one is not one of my creations, but I apologize regardless. I can assure you that none of mine would do such a thing--and if they ever do, certainly come to me at once. And if Draconua attacks Pegasus again," he added, looking to her, "feel free to retrieve me if you want company in subduing her." That was a clear enough message, he thought: this wasn't his fault, exactly, but if she messed up again, he would be pitted against her. A warning to her; a promise to Azigh.

He looked at Azigh's... arms, with again, dim amusement. "I've no idea who made her, in fact. She still grew beneath the Black Spire when we arrived. I hope it was not too much damage..?"

After a moment, Vargas stopped pretending as though she wasn't there, just a child they were talking about behind her back--and actually addressed her, and Azigh, both. "We may have something for you to do soon enough--and you may as well know if it, as well. I've had an offer of aid against the infection in Ursa. I expect to hear back from this... Gembound, soon enough. There may be combat, if we are lucky--you can focus your destructive efforts on that," Vargas added, glancing to Draconua again. He was pretty sure he'd mentioned this to her before, but it was solidified, now; once the little army or whatever was gathered in a cycle or so, they'd see.

@Draconua

"... if you want company in subduing her." Draconua had no real reason to be offended, to feel betrayed—and so, she didn't.

Instead, the corners of her jaws split upwards. A barbed grin was shot in either of their directions, and she tipped her head upward. Stifled was the best word for this feeling. Perhaps, she would have to be more subtle about her destructive tendencies. (Moreso than splitting off into the wilds of Leo, or blending in with the masses in a hunt.)

Of course, restraints oft made their victims more skillful in deceit—not that simply taking her business away from Pegasus was any sort of stealthy move. There couldn't be Guardians everywhere to stand in the way of her mission.

Sanguine faceplate snapping back towards Vargas, the valkhound huffed. It had been one of her objectives, too, to unravel the mystery of her (alleged) creator. Draconua had dismissed it once before, and it was quite easy to dismiss it again; she had simply woken up here, placed by Him. A Master might know more of His plans, but they certainly did not make her. She sneered again.

Mention of Ursa cropped up, and the brutal beast practically lit up.

"At last," she chittered—a fanatical sort of sound. Claws scraped against the living, breathing floor, and she paced. Draconua set out her single, blithe complaint, "he was taking far too long," and gnashed her teeth. Soon, of course, did not mean now, but—a drunk-on-corruption beast could dream.

"Quite well, too," he had responded pleasantly.

Azigh leaned against the butt end of his lantern. His arms wound tight around his "head," hands grasping a few wrists over. It shook slightly as Vargas spoke ("This one is not one of my creations…")

He hadn't thought so—if she weren't lying about her own past. The Master's capabilities, if he had heard right, were as recent as the Altar's creeping influence along the ceilings; as recent as his own arrival in this quadrant.

Whoever had made Draconua was of little concern.

The promise seemed to satisfy him: "of course." The guardian gauged Draconua carefully, watching the way she half-recoiled at the notion. "It was living wood, so, no—not too much." (Though, he now had to wonder if she was at fault for the fissures along the meadows.) "The worst of it was avoided." Azigh adjusted his lantern again, "though, again, I will keep an eye out for her."

As for Ursa… the guardian grew more solemn. He hiked the lantern further up his shoulder, straightening. The invitation to direct combat was clearly written; Azigh hummed softly. "I'll protect the entrance and keep anything from escaping," he offered, "I wish you the best of luck with the rest."

A pointed glance shot at Draconua out the corner of... his eyes?

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas's soft snort was a gentle one--he caught Azigh's meaning, and there was humor in him. At least Draconua seemed somewhat pleased; and Azigh mollified well enough. Vargas turned his attention back to the hand-faced Guardian.

"I will call those here, operating under me, the Chaos Forge for our purpose. Pegasus is close. I am sure many of mine use it for hunting; if damage is done, or if they hunt too many, inform me. And if ever you require aid with your charge, we are close by." A professional, and polite, offer of comradeship. He doubted it would ever be needed, but it was a useful offer, he knew: Vargas himself, along with the rest of the Forge, tended to be formidable fighters.

He looked to Draconua, then. "In the meantime, if you have another urge for mayhem, come to me. There are many of mine who could use the training of combat, no matter how brutal you decide to be--and other caves where you might wreak your havoc. Perhaps at some point you might take some of the Forge into Hydra; it is a deadly place, but whatever damage that you do will only increase the danger you are in. You might find it fun," he added, drily.

@Draconua