Aethril was doing her favourite thing.

Nothing.

She left Obieth to sleep or roam around the Palace at her own perusal while the Hand went to one of the balconies overlooking the gardens. She'd brought with her a multi-coloured slushie from the concession stand by the cinema and a pillow for resting her head on the sun lounger.

There was no sun, of course, but it would do. She kicked the lounging chair right back and put the cold slush into the accompanying armrest, stretching out. It was nice, in a way, to have dim voidlight light up her skin. It wasn't warm, but it was at least pleasant.

One leg folded over the other and a hand idly fluffed up her pillow before the Hand fell still, fingers locking over a decorated, golden bodice.

Truly, Aethril was living her best life, brainless and motionless.

@Garnet-Delta

Overseer ████-- for simplicity, as it had been introduced to Aethril as Garnet-Delta, it would be Delta for this initial conversation, lest it be misjudged-- had landed neatly at the entrance to the Palace, its coat neatly groomed into place. It felt no fear, but a thrum of anxious excitement buzzed in its heart all the same. This would be a pivotal moment for it, and for its master, and the Forge as a whole.

It would not disappoint.

Its magic spread from its body, seeking the hearts of those that lay inside. It prowled the front porch, crimson eyes gleaming. It was here that it met with a simple, but wonderfully innocent creature. Introduced as Eggbert to the Overseer, the feline explained why it was here, and who it was here to see. Prowling along side the large turtle-duck, it felt its worries melt off its back like water off of... a duck's back.

Before long, the Overseer was brought to the balcony where the Hand was lounging, and the pleasant company of Eggbert departed with a quack. "Thank you," the feline-hybrid meowed, before turning its eyes up to the humanoid resting with a strange object in her hand. Not wanting to interrupt or speak before spoken to (ah, let it be addressed first), the cat settled upon its haunches and curled its tail around its paws. Wings tucked neatly at its side, and it politely waited for the Hand's attention.

@Aethril

Aethril heard the familiar clicking of Eggbert's nails and a voice she hadn't heard before, alongside their own footsteps which stopped just by the entrance to the balcony. In a slow moment she stretched out and rolled over to lay on her belly, forearms propping up the upper-half of her body, to get a look at the new arrival.

A cat? Sort of a cat. A batcat, perhaps, but this one was much smaller (and very cute). Her eyes narrowed, then drifted down to the gemstone lodged in its throat. "Ahh," she hummed out loud. "Overseer Garnet-Delta, I presume? Vargas spoke quite fondly of you."

She adjusted to sit on the edge of the lounger, elbows in her lap as she leaned over. "Sit. Do you need any food or water?" The offer was delivered a little absently-- more routine politeness than a genuine concern for Delta's well-being. She gestured to a chair next to the table, but whether Delta sat on the chair, table, or the floor, was up to it.

The Overseer settled, Aethril got right down to business. "How long ago was your promotion?"

@Garnet-Delta

The feline glanced toward the table (or the chair?) and immediately its wings spread. "Yes," it answered firmly, ears twitching. Then, with a swift movement, it took flight, and landed on the edge of the table, and perched there. The Hand was settled quiet comfortably, so mimicking her behavior, the Overseer laid down, stretching its toes over the lip of the table and letting its tail hang.

Should it get that comfortable? Perhaps not. But it saw no reason to sit, stiff as a board, looking like a terrified piece of prey. Though they were far from equal, the Overseer wanted to show it true self. And a coward it was not.

"Actually," the Overseer was curious. "Do you have a white, sweet liquid?" She apparently had some sort of strange smelling, sweet-oil substance in her cup. The idea that perhaps they had something similar struck the clever cat as a possibility, even if it didn't know the word for milk or cream.

There wasn't much time for chit-chat. Straight to the point. It was a touch refreshing, actually. It tried to prod for Aethril's feelings-- oh, so bold, wasn't it?-- but its magic, fickle as it was of late, refused. "Master Vargas promoted me a cycle after our move to Draco, roughly seven cycles ago." The time had flown, hadn't it? It had been quite busy in the Orthoclase's absence, and Chaos-Four had already been trained and gone.

@Aethril

Aethril's eyebrows briefly raised. Milk? She wondered, her head tilting as she watched the Overseer for a moment. "I'm sure we have just the thing," she said softly regardless-- having not really expected it to take up the offer.

Her head turned towards the balcony entrance, eyes honing in on a passing Lesser making the rounds around the Palace hallways. "Not too long, in that case," she replied meanwhile, all the while quite politely.

The ivory deer jerked, head twisting to face Aethril as she felt His magic lurch from her, her mind pushing into the Lesser. As it began to bound away, she turned her head back towards the Overseer. "Now, forgive me if this next question seems... insensitive," she went on. "But Vargas tells me that you are born from one of the new Gembound, born from the Natural Order. Tell me-- do you feel as though this limits your abilities, compared to Valkhounds?"

A pause, and then some elaboration. "Your Master spoke very highly of you, of course, and I find his innovation to use the new Gembound in his creations quite innovative-- but I'm worried of the consequences."

She had to make sure Garnet-Delta wouldn't keel over and die trying to train Obieth, of course, and as the ivory deer returned with a bowl of sweet-smelling milk, settling it down on the table next to the Overseer and returning to its duties, Aethril was leaning back.

"On a much nicer note-- I hope you're enjoying it? What do your duties as Overseer entail, what has Vargas given you to do?"

@Garnet-Delta

The Overseer did not mean for its eyes to go wide, pupils growing to the side of moons, but how could it not? Did she really have the liquid that the creature craved? The hybrid crossed one paw over the other, and made itself comfortable as it settled in to be patient.

Insensitive? Hardly. "My Hand," the alien-cat insisted, "if you have met the gembound of this generation, you would know that that is far from insensitive. You speak practically. This new generation is far from the brightest and best of the bunch; I have met moron after idiot after complete fool among them."

This was blunt, and it was the ultimate truth. "We are as much chaos as natural order," it answered, "and so there is much variety to be found. But," and this is where it rose its head proudly, long, rabbit-like ears slicking back. "There are surprises to be found. I could keep pace with any Valkhound of your choice." Even Vargas, when he was an Overseer, Garnet-Delta truly believed itself to be at that level.

The milk was set down in beside Garnet-Delta, and the Overseer refrained from taking a sip as Aethril continued to question it. At least long enough to answer: "Though I was not created by a Master, I am the offspring of a Hydra Champion. I have spent my whole life devoted to Master Vargas's cause, and so I bear the title of Overseer with utmost pride." It paused then to sniff at the bowl, its mouth watering.

Restraint. Answer first. "I was trained as an assassin first and foremost," it said, "by Master Vargas himself. My role as Overseer has been primarily to train others in the Forge, including the latest creation that was taken by Lord Dhracia, and to keep tabs on potential threats in the rest of the Nest." Feeling its answer satisfactory, the short snout of the feline creature reached forward until its chin soaked in the milk, and it began to lap up the precious, white liquid.

It was even more delightful than the Overseer remembered. Little droplets flicked on to the table and on to its whiskers; and the garnet was lucky that it had a white muzzle to somewhat mask how much milk it was soaking into its snout.

@Aethril

Aethril hummed, but her eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. Despite this Overseer being half-Gembound it despised them-- that seemed quite evident. Yet, the Hand couldn't help but wonder if Garnet-Delta was being genuine or if it was just saying what it thought Aethril wanted to hear.

She pried the lounger into an L-shape and used the back to rest her elbow on as the back of her fingers brushed against her lips with thought. Was the lack of intelligence in Gembound a mistake? What was the Natural Order doing? Was this Overseer just... unlucky?

This information, though a little predictable, was troubling to her-- and quietly, she pressed into the Overseer's mind, scanning his thoughts and emotions, and promptly found them to be... genuine. What had wrought this dislike to its own kind?

Aethril was tapping her fingers against her lips, now, thoughtful. the Hand said after a beat. There were surprises to be found, and Garnet-Delta was certainly one of them, and perhaps, even a pleasant one. "I'm glad to have learned of your progress, Overseer. You've obviously worked very hard to gain your Master's favour."

It'd be best to get them to train Obieth as soon as possible, and she leaned back a little further and shut her eyes. "I've a Valkhound-- a bodyguard," she went on. "Obieth. She needs training and Vargas suggested you, if you'd be so inclined."

As Garnet-Delta drank its milk Aethril was twisting around to lean right back onto the lounger again, a hand blindly going for her slush. "She's very curious, and she seems quite eager to learn." A long sip of icy syrup. "You shouldn't have much issue with her aside from a stream of questions, perhaps, or her attention going elsewhere. She pleases me greatly, however-- she'll make a very good guard with the right trainer."

Another sip taken and Aethril let this stew with the Overseer, listening to it speak back in peace for a moment. This would work out very well, she'd decided. Garnet-Delta seemed quite capable and it'd prove itself once she watched a session of it training Obieth. All that would be left is--

Her eyes flicked open. Assassin? The rebels had long concerned Aethril, even before she woke up-- not that hibernation had calmed that at all. Her fingers drummed against the cold cup for a moment before she took a sip from it and settled it back down on the armrest.

She waited for a break in the Overseer's milk euphoria, head twisting to watch it. "I understand," she said. "You may not be around the other Gembound as much anymore, but it sounds as though you've experience with them, Overseer. I was wondering-- should it suit you, of course, and your duties with Master Vargas --if you could do something for me."

Feline eyes narrowed, sharply. "I trust you know of the rebellion?" the Hand asked. "I've been looking for... individuals who would identify themselves as part of such. Isra tells me that it ended long ago, and I do trust her word, but--" Aethril was shaking head. "Do you know of any such people, Overseer?"

@Garnet-Delta

If Garnet-Delta noticed the presence in its mind, it was only the faintest whisper, the touch of a tainted, corrupted magic that it had previously avoided like the plague. It was certainly too involved with its saucer of milk to pay it much mind (how unusually careless of it) and how its greed showed in each careless lap of cute, pink tongue.

"Thank you," it murmured reverentially. Crimson eyes watched Aethril like a hawk, studying her, expectant. When would she ask it to prove its claims? The desire and drive to rise to the top stirred deep within it, hushed only by cycles of learned patience.

The Hand instead asked for the Overseer to train the Valkhound, Obieth. A second checkmark on a list of tasks set before it, offered so easily to it that it could have suspected this to be an elaborate setup by its Master. Its Master did not have the time for something like this, nor the reason, but still.

Garnet-Delta listened keenly to the description of the Valkhound, giving a small nod. "It would be my pleasure. If she is as you and my Master describe, I should have no problem guiding her. But," and this was something it only broached due to a sense of respect, "I will also spend time observing her, with your permission. Should she prove unloyal, would you prefer I tell you, or take matters into my own?" Being direct with Aethril seemed like the preferable choice. It seemed like something she respected, with her own words driving straight to the point.

The feline continued to drink the milk. Soon it had drawn its full. Its stomach, bloated with dairy, felt satisfied, and its tongue licked its sopping wet muzzle. Mention of the rebellion filled the feline with distaste.

"There is no organized rebellion in the caves," that it or any Master was aware of, "unless you consider the mess in Ursa." It was not particularly involved with Mother and Order, but it had heard bits and pieces. "But the gembound, hmph, there are those who oppose the Masters. They complain loudly, preach what the believe to be better ways to run the Nest. They know nothing, and care only for themselves." It spoke dismissively of them: those who had survived the trial and blamed Master Vargas for the deaths of their friends, of Bloodstone who fled after Lord Dhracia's visit, of every moronic gembound who complained about the Masters while being useless themselves. Its magic flared, and the surface of the milk rippled, shifting to show the vague outline of some kind of flightless bird bumbling about.

"Thus far, none have proven to be genuine threats." As the feline spoke, it tipped the saucer toward Aethril slightly, so she could see the ridiculous puffin bumbling about within. The flightless bird was building something-- that was particularly indestinct, as it carried stones and sticks to create some inanimate friend that the magic couldn't quite articulate. The puffin stopped, glancing out toward a barely rendered pond or puddle, and within moments, the stupid thing fell over, beak first into its creation, sending stones scattering. Now completely prone, it lay motionless with tail feathers pointed straight up with its butt facing the two onlookers. Was it dead? No. Just snoring away.

The vague, foggy picture in the milk certainly seemed to reinforce its description. Garnet-Delta went on, regardless. "In addition, the Forge remains on good terms with the organized groups of the Nest, and they would be our allies if needed." This much, it was confident in. They had no more issues with the dragons, and the Bonebound had been perfectly cordial with them. Pride (who Delta had not met personally) had worked with members of the Forge, and was a leading member of another group.

Though, Garnet-Delta refrained from saying that Master Vargas had discouraged it from murdering naysayers; he had good reason, of course. But, it would be a disservice to mention then and there, given the fact that the Overseer had just declared its role as an assassin. An assassin who didn't kill rebels? What was the point in that? While sometimes the Overseer felt restricted, it would not openly share that with anyone, not even a Hand.

@Aethril ; @Catafay for visibility

Aethril's brow knotted and, briefly, it crossed her mind-- what if they aren't loyal? Her fingers curled, interlocking together on her stomach in a subtle gesture of discomfort. She watched the Overseer for a long moment, before finally responding. "Come to me, of course," her voice was soft. "Obieth is my responsibility. If she proves disloyal, it will be my failure. It will be my job to correct where I have gone wrong."

It was an uncomfortable thought, but it was sincere. Rebelling, betraying her-- attacking Eggbert. All these were things that Aethril would consider Obieth a failure over. They were things that would drive Aethril to tear out Obieth's stone and hand it to Vargas to make something more compliant.

But still-- could she trust the Overseer's word on it?

The mess in Ursa? The Hive? "I would," the Hand confirmed with a grim tone. "It's an attitude that spreads very quickly. Even thousands of years ago, I highly doubt many of the rebels actually knew what they were rebelling for. It's a popularity contest, Overseer-- the hows or whys don't often matter in the eyes of their peers." Her nose crinkled up to the bridge, and then loosened out again with a long sigh. "It's the kind of mindlessness Dontacael is looking for. They become far easier to manipulate."

It troubled her; but the vision in the bowl of milk troubled her more. Aethril leaned over on her lounger to look at the puffin-- yes, she knew these delightful little creatures... --build some kind of nest, fall into it, destroying it, and promptly fall asleep. Was... this an intentional design choice? Why? "What's wrong with it?" She asked Garnet-Delta with narrowed eyes. "How did it become... so severely broken?"

Rolling back, one hand went to rest on her forehead. "It's good that you have allies, at least," she said. "Still-- I'd like for you to bring me one of these..." she gestured at the milk bowl, "blatant failures. I'd like to assess them myself, and should they prove a waste of valuable resources, I'd like you to take care of them yourself."

Aethril's eyes were shutting. "Consider it a test of your abilities, Overseer."

@Garnet-Delta

Of course. The Overseer nodded in agreement, a cold, ruthless gleam in its eyes. It was ultimately satisfied by the answer, sensing beneath the surface that the Hand was not unlike Dhracia in this fashion. She wouldn't choose mercy over sensibility. That, it liked.

But Aethril showed concern over the Hive, over Dontacael, and it supposed that was reasonable. It was not in the position to deal with the Hive; it had no proper defense against the fungus, and should it fall, it would become a deadly weapon in the wrong hands. Better to stay away, and let vessels forged by Chaos itself deal with that matter.

As for the puffin? "As far as I can tell," Garnet-Delta remarked, "it was born that way."

Aethril had a proposition for it. And not a small one. No, this was a task that made its eyes light up, raising a paw to wipe its milk-dripping muzzle.

Aethril wanted it to kill.

Claws slipped from their sheathes as it lowered its paw back down, flexing daggers idly on to the table. Master Vargas had urged it away from murdering senselessly, but with the permission-- no, the command-- of a Hand? She told it to consider it a test.

The Overseer saw it as an opportunity.

"Of course, my Hand. I will see it done." It wouldn't take long to find something that fit the bill, but it would take time for find a real, absolute failure. One that it could truly make a point with. Still, it was eager.

"Was there anything else you wanted to know or otherwise?" It asked politely.

@Aethril