- THE LEVIATHAN -

Rather than accept his word, rather than step forward and embrace the Black Spire, Aethereal began to ask questions--to delve instead into philosophy. Master Vargas was the practical type--but that wasn't to say that he did not dip a crooked toe, on occasion, into the subject. It was difficult to spend thousands of years fighting and killing and Overseeing without at least a few times thinking about the "why." But he could not give Aethereal fact: only his own viewpoints, and what he saw as truths. Perhaps they were accurate. Perhaps they were not, or maybe there was no "accurate," no right and wrong, and there were only motivations, and perceptions.

He began his answers with a laugh--good-natured, but short, a grunted bark of a thing paired with a glance at the headless monstrosity. (Strange, how something could be so elegantly beautiful and so horrific all in one.) "It is good to ask questions," was what he started with: "This is a sign of a keen mind." And a useful one. "Dontacael does not live within these cave walls, child. Mother, or whatever it calls itself, is but a servant of his. A Harbinger? A creation, a weapon? All of those? I do not know. But his sphere is order. Do you understand what I mean by this-? Everything must be in a perfect place, ordered and arranged, crystalline and unmoving. His universe would be one of utter stagnancy. Cold. Empty! Nothing would change." Vargas gestured up toward the Black Spire, and then realized that perhaps she could not see it.

"The Black Spire that lays before you--what you must commune with, to calm the chaos--do not touch it," he interrupted himself, as an afterthought, "is a sign of our Creator's power. Our Creator is the enemy of Order. He is Chaos; unpredictability. Change! Struggle! Advancement! For how can we learn and grow, if not through change? How can things not improve, without the destruction of the old?" Vargas spoke almost heatedly, with true belief. And here, perhaps, was his philosophy. "There is pain in chaos, but there is freedom. Others are free to harm you. And you must be strong to repel them and to survive in their stead! But you are not chained and ordered, you are not a slave to another's will."

Vargas lowered himself to his haunches, staring almost reverently up at the Spire again. He seemed rapt, but at least turned himself, now, to Aethereal's other questions. "We Design, Create, and Oversee, to grant the Creator the creations--the soldiers and the power--that he requires to secure his hold, and to stop Order's heartless march. It is not he who gifts you with something that would tear you apart, child. It is the nature of Chaos to destroy, and you are, as is this ever-shifting stone!--chaos given form. Given life. If it builds, you must bleed it away. The stone will remind your magic of what it is to be more stable. It is only 'addictive' in the way that any power would be. One that tastes of strength and courage unfettered by order will always want more." Her final question had him tilt his head, and peer at her. The Creator, creating Dontacael-? That was a bizarre concept to him, and were it true, he had certainly never been told. "They are the powers that existed before us. One did not create the other. They are... their own concepts given form and magic." This, at least, was how Vargas understood it--whether it was true, for certain, was unclear but it was at least what he believed to be fact.

"Do not believe the whispers of the ice. Order dislikes Chaos. Stagnancy hates change. It would chain this Nest and subjugate it and kill the Chaos left within. That is why it is here--a clumsy move in a long war, or maybe a ploy. Or perhaps it is desperation. I do not know." Like others before him, he wondered, briefly, why this nest. But then, why did Lord Dhracia herself take an interest in this nest-? Long-stagnant, near-dead, and yet she had come here to lay down punishment and reorder the cave. Or perhaps it was simply his presence and his determination that had stayed her hand, long enough to give them a chance? After all, it didn't hurt her any to let them try again--and it might benefit her, in the long run. But was that the case, or was it something else?

Vargas did not know, and he supposed it did not matter: his work mattered. The incursion mattered. Survival was what mattered.

@James (I know he didn't address James AT ALL sorry-)

Vargas spoke of Dontacael's vision for the world with disgust, but she thought she could understand the desire for order. If everything was in its perfect place already, then what need was there for change? There was pain in chaotic freedom, but was it necessary? "Why would we choose to take the risk of harming others, when we could help each other and improve as a whole?" Aethereal wondered out loud, mostly to herself. Each individual had to have something to contribute, and surely working together would get them places faster than fighting each other all the time.

Destruction of the old - of anything, really - seemed like a bad idea. A constantly changing state of things, boiling with turmoil and risk and death, was not happiness. How could you be happy if you constantly had to fight for your survival? It was no way to live. There had to be Order and stability too, in some degree. The old, too, and the weaker ones, could teach them things. And besides that - didn't they all deserve a chance to rest and be happy?

But she did not like the idea of being chained, either. Mother hadn't done that to her, but was that what would have happened if the mental link had been allowed to develop further? Children should be allowed freedom. Freedom to leave the nest, as James said, but not to harm each other. So Dontacael had the right idea, maybe, but - "He would be wrong to take all freedom from us," she decided. "And to kill all Chaos. Total destruction is bad." Of anything, not just Chaos.

The purpose of Vargas' creations being to make soldiers gave Aethereal pause. "Mother and Dontacael would want us to serve until we died from it," she began uncertainly. Had she interpreted that right? Oh caves, she hoped she wasn't slandering her (former? current, even?) family. "What would be a soldier's fate, but serving and dying?"

The idea disturbed her, and the murmurs that surrounded her seemed to increase slightly in intensity. Go away, Aethereal thought impatiently. I'm in the middle of something. The Black Spire stood before her, radiating warmth and making a... breathing noise? As weird as the rest of Draco, it seemed, but if it would get rid of - or at least control - the Chaos, she could tolerate it.

She shuffled forward in small steps, feeling the warming air on her fur and coming as close as she dared. It was a little frightening, not knowing how close she could come without touching it by accident, but hopefully this was close enough. "What happens if I touch it?" she asked, then, returning her attention to the Spire and feeling a little silly: "Hi, Spire." Was this how "communing" worked--?

@James

James listened to Vargas, both in mute horror and contemplation. It was silly, really, that no one had found the equilibrium between the two forces when it was right there. The kindness that Khloros had told him about, the vision he'd seen in the Spire.

"There is a middle ground," he said, his heart deafening as it pounded away, "A balance between the two. A fight for change, yes, but a fight for peace. For green fields and happy families and soldiers that can sleep at night without war raging in their minds."

He stopped before the Black Spire, before the radiating chaos that would surely do only harm to a gembound like him, unused to such energies.

"There are those of us who are... weak," he said, "Perhaps in body, in magic. I am certain that you think I'm weak, Master Vargas, at least by initial appearances. I'm thin, meant for running away from the fight rather than participating in it. With extensive training our magic can reach incredible levels and we can train our bodies to do more than what they initially could. But there's one thing that I don't think anyone's taken into account."

Togetherness. Kindness. People are much more willing to do things for you if you treat them with respect, no matter how ornery they are.

"Aethereal," he said softly, "There is something more powerful than Chaos and Order combined, something us regular gembound seemed to have been born with. A combination of the two, perhaps? Something different? Something that brings people together into a group more powerful than Mother or any singular force. Something that makes families and friends come together."

James believed it. Sure, it had hurt him, it had broken his heart into tiny pieces, but it had also healed him, made him stronger, told him that he was worth it.

"Love," he said, and immediately winced, because he was seriously being so cheesy and Tahi would probably be rolling in his chrysalis right now.

And like that he shrunk back again, wanting to be anywhere but here, hoping and praying that Vargas didn't laugh or say he was stupid or something. He was convinced he wasn't, hanging onto the hope that the being that had created the Spire wasn't some facade, that love and loyalty and kindness were more powerful than anything else.

@Vargas @Aethereal

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He had listened quietly, intending to respond at once--taking note of the questions, what to remark on, what to correct or to add to; what to teach. But James spoke first, and Vargas--though irritated--allowed it, turning to stare at him impatiently. Where he came from, one let the ranking beings speak, and spoke only if spoken to. This irked him but given the fact that the horse had brought Aethereal here, he tolerated it.

James's speech, though, indeed left Vargas laughing: the Leviathan broke into a guffaw of loud, darkly-amused laughter. "Is that what you imagine-?" he asked, laughter fading as he peered down. "You imagine 'love' to be some powerful mythical force-? You poor deluded creature," he said, and there was, surprisingly, no mockery in it. Only a faint pity, if anything, and the Leviathan shook his head, studying James. Is this what they are teaching themselves, these days-? "Find me the magic that 'love' can cast. Find me the enemy that it can destroy. It is an emotion, child--an evolutionary quirk designed to drive a social beast to reproduction, and beyond that, to guard your young. We are not all created with it because it is unneeded and worse than that--it is a chain greater than any that Dontacael or our Creator could ever form! It is an imaginary fantasy, a flood of chemicals to make you imagine yourself bound to another where there is no bond. A sweet fever dream, for some, but it always passes, in the end. It is nothing but hormones, James." He paused, for a moment, considering. "When you speak of others coming together to be stronger, it need not be love that binds them and draws them in! Strength is what does that! The fire in your heart! It does not matter what you fight for. And believe me, it requires those emotions to draw that strength from some--but that is the point of it. There are so many who are weak! They are weak, and only when those bonds of chemicals scream into their minds and fill them with fear for something greater than themselves--when they view themselves as less than others!--do they get back up and fight. Love! Bah," he finished, with a vehement shake of his head.

If only the winged horse knew. If only he knew what a chain love truly was. A chain to keep a mighty dragon bound--with but a word, but a whisper of a threat to his beloved. A weakness. A vulnerability.

Pathetic.

Vargas turned to Aethereal. "You take the risk because it is what you are created to do. Or rather, what most of us were created for. I do not know who made you, or why, but I can see and sense that you are formed of Chaos. And that would be your fate, as it is written; to serve and to die. But that is how all things live. To serve," and here he gestured at James, without looking at him, "the magic code written in his body, driving him toward brood and family, to pass that code blindly to others; or to serve the master who has formed you. Some have the luxury of choosing who they serve, or what goals to set themselves to. But we do not."

He looked up at the Black Spire, then. "If you touch it it will burn you. It resonates with your magic, and it is powerful. Strong enough to tear you apart, should you press against it for a moment or two. I would not recommend it," he added, dryly.

@Aethereal

Love. It was the first thing she had known, after the pain and fear of the first time her magic backfired. Pain was Chaos' gift to the world, but Mother - and maybe Dontacael, by extension? - preached love. And, it seemed, so did James.

The idea resonated with her. They - those of these Caves - could care for each other, and show others compassion rather than the brutality of constant struggle. Wasn't there enough suffering already, without the forced enmity of war to pour oil onto the flame? The idea of balance, too, appealed to her. Dontacael, if he truly wanted to destroy all Chaos, was wrong. But Vargas would have a world with no Order, no peace. Kindness, she realized, was not an inherent good to him.

Was this what Mother had meant, when she had said here, now, is dark? Mother had promised songs: of ancient pasts, and bright futures. Aethereal had not really understood, then, but she thought she might now. Mother promised us a better way. Better than chaos, better than violence, better than serving and dying for a fate none of us chose. Her means might have been morally questionable, and her ends might not be perfect, either, but...

There could be peace. If they found a path to walk between the two extremes, if they could, by some miracle, defy their predetermined fates... no, not defy it, but live their lives with individual freedom, without the chains imposed upon them by others...

Vargas spoke of freedom in Chaos, but it was not true freedom. It was not the freedom to break free of suffering, nor the freedom to have fun and be carefree. (Did Vargas approve of fun... ? Probably as much as he did love.) It was the freedom to harm others: first randomly, it seemed, and eventually on the battlefield against Dontacael. Was there a fate that led somewhere other than war? She wanted peace.

Surprisingly, it was the Black Spire that granted it to her.

Aethereal drew close, and the chaos eased. Stability, calm, the remission of the Creator's dangerous 'gift'. If this was Chaos, and it granted peace, was that Chaos' gift to the world? It had done something positive for her now, something more than sleepless nights and violent urges. There might be a place for both Chaos and Order in a better world.

But Vargas would destroy Order, if he had the chance. He had made that clear with his threat to kill her.

He could not be allowed to succeed.

If they would all die in service to some greater power, why not take the risk to die a good death? Why not try to shape the world for the better, while you are alive? Why accelerate others' deaths with violence, when you could make their lives brighter with compassion and kinship? What was the worst that could happen-- death? But what was the best that could happen?

She did not want to die. But. There was always a but, wasn't there? There was no absolute truth, no certain way that was the best. Better was all they could hope for. And maybe it was ridiculous, to want to give everything she had for a future that might not even be possible. But wasn't it equally ridiculous to mindlessly serve Order or Chaos, one or the other, with no say in your own fate?

"Thank you for showing me this Spire," Aethereal said abruptly, but with genuine gratitude. It had shown her what peace might be like, and it had given her a metaphorical light in the darkness. (How ironic was that, a Black Spire giving a blind one light?) Peace was light, and hope for a better future. In time... there will be a better way.

"James," she continued. "We should talk more. Somewhere else." She thought of Vargas, of his raw power and opposition to all things Order-- "This place creeps me out." An excuse that, though true, might help her avoid the Master's suspicion. Perhaps it was fortunate, then, that she had no face on which to show her thoughts.

@James
exit, if Vargas doesn't do something else

He couldn't help but stop breathing for a moment as the Leviathan looked down at him. He couldn't help but feel like he was nothing, less than the dirt that stuck to the bottoms of his massive feet. It wasn't a nice feeling.

James looked at Vargas as he spoke, preaching chaos and violence, calling him deluded. Asking him to find what magic love could cast (he could immediately think of many, like lighting up his house with a wisp when one of his children woke up in the middle of the night, or when Comet used her incredible magical abilities to just conjure bubbles for tiny Pegasus to giggle at).

He felt... pity. Either Vargas couldn't or refused to feel love and affection, and that was sad. James felt even worse for the children who had to grow up here, who'd probably never known love or affection, or even what a hug was. It was sick.

He knew that love was great. It could be pure or corrupt, like a parent looking down at their child for the first time or a war waged over it. But still, he believed it in. Believed that there was good in it.

"Thank you, Master Vargas," he said, voice a bit shaky, "I think I'll be going. I have to check on Tahi-shei, like you said earlier..."

The stallion stared at Aethereal for a moment, surprised. She wanted to speak with him? Elsewhere? But... why?

James was... confused, to say the least, but he turned after her and followed, hooves clip-clopping on the living stone beneath him.

"R-right... my place, perhaps?", he said, "I don't think anyone's there at the moment."

Exit unless stopped
@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He had no doubt that they either misunderstood him, or understood only parts of what he said--but that could not be helped. They lacked the perspective to truly understand the truth of his words--and perhaps that was for the best. Let the child play his games, guided by the trickery of chemicals, while he can, he thought, and it was amiably enough, if pitying. It did not particularly matter. They would learn, and that in and of itself was... unfortunate.

He nodded, however, toward James as he made to leave. "The both of you--if you depart now, her fate is on your head. Do not let her fall back to the Hive, or the consequence will be your life." He was cold, empty, as he said this.

But it was not a threat to James--not really. Let the white one--the one with her own delusions of caring, it was clear (and had Dontacael done that-? Tampered with her, used her so? Disgusting.)--let her hear that her decisions would lay on another's neck, and perhaps it would steer her clear of 'Mother.'

"And you, you may need to return here at times, as your inner chaos dictates. We who dwell here are the Chaos Forge--should you desire to learn more of your abilities, or to hone them, I will see that someone teaches you." He did not think she would take him up on this. Her thinly-veiled desire to speak away from him was pleasing, though undoubtedly neither of them would have expected him to think of it as such. But it was, though he'd have never told them why.

exit Vargas (edited in)

@James & @Aethereal (sorry he has more to say but that's probably it-)

Disgust flickered through Aethereal's mind as Vargas spoke yet another threat. The Master was brutal and militaristic even toward his own allies; Aethereal had no idea why people would want to help him.

Is it because they think they don't have a choice? she wondered. Because they think that if they don't work together, Mother will destroy them? Mother didn't want to destroy them, did she? Mother hadn't destroyed her... but James' story of the dragon's family, and Vargas' words, had sown doubt in her mind.

It was incredibly frustrating, not knowing whom to believe. Aethereal had had enough. She just wanted out of it all: the illusions, their fates, the ongoing war between Order and Chaos. Peace, a better way, which she had been so confident about moments before. The Black Spire had calmed the first problem--But you can't stay out of the rest, whispered her conscience. Mother had raised her; she couldn't just forget her gratitude for that. Or she was going to destroy you, and Chaos' forces saved you. You would owe them your gratitude for that. You think you can find a middle path, but does that mean abandoning the people who tried to help you when a conflict comes? And if you don't abandon Mother, then this horse is going to die.

And now Vargas was offering... to train her? For war? Aethereal didn't want to fight anyone, but what if Mother was going to attack them? What if they were going to attack Mother? If she learned from them, that would mean taking help from them and she couldn't be ungrateful but they already helped you, stabilized you--

Ok, so they've all helped me, one way or another. And they're at war with each other. And if one of them attacks the other and I just sit out that would be awful... but I can't help one side without being awful to the other? If both sides are good to some degree but they fight each other, what am I supposed to do?

The answer, when it did come, came in a jumbled rush of thoughts and half-formed ideas. Aethereal couldn't put them into words, exactly, but she felt a little bit better with a few vague ideas of do the least bad things to cling to. The rest, she decided as she retreated back toward Pegasus, was best figured out well away from Draco and Vargas.

@James exit

James turned to stare as Vargas spoked to him, and the blood rushed from his face. He'd shit himself later, though, and just nodded in favor of speaking. He didn't doubt that if he did, he'd squeak or pass out or something undignified.

He turned away, whale-eyed with fear, his shoulders hunched as he quickly trotted after Aethereal, tail and wings tucked in tightly. He felt nauseous but right. He was right. Maybe Vargas was right and it was a chemical, but in that case, wasn't violence? Adrenaline and the instinct to fight opposing forces.

If only he was brave enough to tell him that.

... No that was stupid. Vargas might actually kill him now instead.

With his head down, he left, throat tight.

@Vargas for vis
exit