Wings flapped him in, a flailing flash of blood red and black that coiled away as he landed. They were here, now; good. Behind him he heard the horse in trotting pursuit: a pursuit that hadn't even winded the slender creature.

The alligator grunted, settling himself down and hauling himself further along the rock. The hum of the Spire was not far off, and he remembered--irritably--the battle with Raheerah here. The battle that had permanently shattered one hind leg, and left him badly scarred for life.

He was mostly annoyed, not at his wounds, but at the fact they hadn't killed the dragon.

By his side came the soft clicking of hooves on stone, and a mild voice: "Are you sure you want to do this, Dragon?"

"Yes," he answered, bluntly. He knew he was about to get a speech, but he'd tolerate it; as long as the damned refugee kept his word and helped him. He knew well enough Khloros's take on making children, but the family of Rot was far too low in numbers, and Dragon had been lax in adding to them. Recruitment was one thing. But all his children had always proven strong, or useful, or both; there was no reason not to add those who could be educated young, those he could watch over closely as they grew, and ensure they knew how to fight and how to survive from an early age. Those who came without enemies or preconceptions. It wasn't about brainwashing, exactly--though certainly some might accuse him of it, if they knew. It was more about... trusting family over strangers.

Khloros paced along, glancing sidelong at the alligator as he crawled, limping, along the rock. It was with faint irony that he began to speak--he knew Dragon knew his objections. And he knew Dragon knew he'd voice them anyway. "We are trapped here. By doing this, you will only add to the numbers of those imprisoned by stone." A sleek black head lifted to regard the Spire quietly.

The Spire that had rebirthed him. Or had it been the Spire at all-? He had come to doubt that, in recent days. No; he had been sent to serve Death and, for better or worse, he would not be freed from this mortal coil until he had done just that.

Death had brought him back. Was aiding Dragon in this task a betrayal of his purpose-? Given Dragon's own, and the goals of the Children of Rot, Khloros didn't think so. Dragon was determined to survive past whatever the Masters had in mind, and Khloros had no idea what that might mean for the caves--if it were even possible. But he had granted him safe refuge, secret sanctuary, in Cetus.

It was, he supposed, fair enough to pay him back.

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"We are not imprisoned," he grumbled. "You are not imprisoned. We are alive. I am aware of your thoughts on the topic. Just help me to find stones, and we will have more allies in the end. We will need them," Dragon added, but his irritation was mostly faded in favor of alert concern.

Would anyone appear to strike Khloros down? To stop Dragon in his task?

He'd chosen Polaris because it was full of magic, and it was full of crystals; and he had no doubt at all that they'd find living gemstones, here. It hadn't occurred to him to try to revive a Lesser and it likely wouldn't, as much as he found bat-genetics useful: to him, those stones were most certainly dead and even if they were revived, they'd wind up just being Lessers anyway, most likely.

The alligator came to a huffing, puffing halt, and gave Khloros a sidelong glance. The horse had already agreed to this; he wouldn't back out now--at least, Dragon hoped he wouldn't.

"See anything?" he asked--and struggled to remember if anyone had outright died against Raheerah.

Khloros gave a soft sigh, and a shake of his head. But it was a little hypocritical, wasn't it-? He'd formed a child, once upon a time--or, at least, he thought he had. It had been intended as insurance, but he'd never seen if it hatched, or not. He didn't know if it lived, if a young Khloros existed or even what it looked like.

He had no idea of Shango or that, in turn, this child had hatched out several of its own--that Khloros's single "sin" had perpetuated so greatly.

The stallion turned his attention--and his magic--outward. It flickered through Polaris; he no longer had an element and perhaps that alone made him more attuned to the flash of power here and there. His senses settled on one almost at once, and he led Dragon to it. "This way."

Soft hoofbeats led the alligator onward, and Khloros ignored his huffing and puffing, his ears flicking to and fro. He was always aware that Astraea might turn up here, in Polaris of all places, and he was wary of it. He would not have liked to admit his fear of the stag, but the agony Astraea had inflicted upon him was difficult to forget. That wasn't to say he would crumble beneath Astraea's gaze; if he'd had a way to kill the deer, he would have. But he'd rather avoid him, for the time being, if he could.

"Here," he said quietly, at last reaching a small pile of rock not too far from the Spire. It wasn't right up near it; the Spire wouldn't allow living gemstones so close, he thought. But it was near enough that the hum of its power was unpleasant to him.

His soft muzzle pushed aside the rocks to reveal a single gleaming gemstone, and he touched this and stepped away. "There is one," he said.

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Dragon pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his lame hind leg with its tattered muscle beneath scarred flesh. He hauled himself in slow jerks to the rock that Khloros indicated, laying back belly-down again as the stallion stepped aside.

Ahh--there.

He tilted his head, pulling the stones away one by one until he could get a grip on the gemstone; this he lifted gently in his jaws. He tossed his head back, settling it farther back in his mouth--carrying the stone as if it were already a child.

"There," he said, words only a little distorted by the rock in his jaws. "See if you can find a couple more. And thank you," he added, with a brief glance the horse's way, and faint humor in his tone. He was aware Khloros didn't like this, but--tough shit. The horse owed him one.

Khloros watched, distantly indifferent, faint distaste on his face. There was no wonder in him for new life, no protective love for it. No; this was something of a travesty, really. Forcing a new soul back into the restraining case of rigid rock, keeping it there to do one's own bidding-?

No, he didn't like it.

With a sigh he turned away, ears pinning briefly with the irritation of it. "Just please do not ask this of me again," he said at last, his discomfort with it all truly showing through.

He cast his senses out again, leading the way at a leisurely walk, nostrils flaring and dark eyes searching the stones. At last he veered a little right, and with one hoof, pawed through a few rocks--yes. "Here," he said again, a little curtly, and stepped away.

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Dragon grunted. "I know what it means to you. I suppose you don't want a child of your own-?" he asked, glancing up. It seemed the polite thing to do, but the smoldering, silent stare Khloros gave him in return was answer enough. Forget I asked, Dragon thought sourly, and pushed aside the indicated rocks.

This one was easily-enough spotted, and after a moment's uncomfortable twisting and muscled-neck-finagling, he'd managed to scoop it, too, into his jaws.

He considered.

"Just one or two more," he said, already a little excited by the possibility inherent in these stones.

Family. More children. More Children, too; more chance for them all to survive, together. It had been too long, really, and the more trustworthy family he held in Cetus, the better off they'd all be.

Regardless of what the half-mad stallion thought.

He turned away, silent.

Each moment he continued on this task, he felt... dirtier. As if he were going against his own principles. He'd owed Dragon a favor, but now he was starting to feel as though Dragon perhaps owed one to him, after this.

But does he? He has sheltered you for this long, and put himself and his family at risk to do so, he thought to himself. These thoughts continued in a tangled, confused manner--weighing the likelihood of a Master really turning up in Cetus against Dragon really dying to keep Khloros secret... What would've happened? None of it had, in the end.

All he'd had were Dragon's promises, but--surely those were worth something..?

He exhaled through flared nostrils, faint anger sparking in him, but it was half at himself. He was doing what he believed was wrong... but it was a weary sort of anger, with no real fire in it. A moment later it was half-forgotten, the horse feeling again for the magic that flowed throughout Polaris: feeling for a change in it, a spark somewhere that he could find.

This one was... odd. Lying out in the open, not obscured at all, hidden perhaps by virtue of its remote location if nothing else. It was almost as though it'd been discarded, and Khloros said nothing--he merely leaned down, nudging the stone as he circled out of the way, to indicate it.

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He came up in silence, scooping this one into his jaws as well. This was three, and Khloros hadn't mentioned how strong they were; so Dragon asked. "Do they all feel strong enough to survive?"

He knew that some held more magic than others, though past that he wasn't totally sure how it worked. Hopefully, though, they'd take, and he'd have children soon enough; for now he'd ask Khloros to find one more, and that fourth would be insurance.

"One more, Khloros, and then we will return home, and I promise never to ask this of you again. In fact, you may teach the children what you know when they are young, if you wish it," though I will warn them to think for themselves.

Khloros studied Dragon for a moment.

That... was a surprising offer. He'd heard through the grapevine that Dragon had represented him as a little mad here and there--not anything terrible but enough that the offer was unexpected.

It was, he had to admit, a little bit appealing, too. Whereas Dragon saw only family, Khloros indeed saw the opportunity to almost indoctrinate the young: to get to them before the Masters did, to warn them of his truths and the Masters' falsehoods early on.

"I will," he decided, firmly, and then looked away. Slender neck rose, turned, as he studied Polaris once again.

"I see none close," he said at last, and glanced to Dragon; "You may want to use your wings."

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