Overseer Cain returned when it promised it would, settling itself inside the courtyard of the gardens. It had drawn Eggbert's attention, and explained what it was here for: Obieth's training. The delightful (how could such a simple, useless design make the calculating, logical Cain feel delight?) creation wobbled off to fetch the black beast of Chaos.

And while it waited, it figured it could pass the time. It was weary about trying its most temperamental magic, but it figured that Eggbert would take some time to find and return with Obieth, so it assumed it would have some time to do what it needed to do. Unfortunately, its magic didn't seem to want to spark-- better than an adverse reaction, it supposed.

It prowled the courtyard, jumping up on to a bench, tail swishing. It supposed it could find a place to hide, regardless. It would be good regardless for it to not be sitting still, out in the open, and instead challenge the fellow feline's mind. It leaped up on to a bush, rattling the neatly trimmed hedge, and carefully prowled the length of it.

It eyed the water feature. While that would be a good place, at the top of the fountain: Absolutely not.

Instead, it turned toward a lantern post, hopping up on to the top of the light structure that glowed with light that warded off the natural voidlight of the room. It settled there, tail curling neatly around its paws, and fell still as one of the dozens of crystal structures about the room. Any moment, its protege would be here. Hopefully she was ready to learn.

@Obieth @Aethril

When she stalked in, at Aethril's command, it was with a supreme air of royal indifference. Each paw swept forward on long strides, half-lidded eyes unconcerned, if alert, as they swept each corner and shadow of the courtyard. The scents of honeysuckle and tree blossoms filled her nostrils, and something else--faint, distant. Pollen? Another creature? Maybe. She took no heed of it, instead paying brief attention to the sounds: the distant gurgle of water, the quiet creak of the insects.

The tip of her tail flicked behind her.

She had always revelled in her senses--'always' being perhaps a generous word for a creature only a week or two in this world. But she had, from the moment of her hatching, indulged herself. This was compounded by the decision to make her a guard: it was her duty to--at least perfunctorily--scan the place for danger.

Velveteen black swayed through a nearby patch of shadow, and then teal eyes happened to lift--and pause--at Cain's lamppost. Obieth froze mid-step, not with fear or apprehension but the sudden pause of a predator spying prey. The truth was, she couldn't see what the Overseer was; not past the bright light. She simply saw a shape she didn't think was meant to be there. Something that hadn't been here in the garden before.

Her tail flicked again, as she stared at it--waiting for it to move, or not to move, so she could gauge just what the hell it was.

The Overseer's ears pricked, sleek, white-tipped lagomorphic arrows pointed toward the ceiling. Its crimson eyes settled on the black shadow, noting the familiar, familial-inspired shape. Yes, the resemblance was there, but the moment was punctuated by childish memory. This, with its rigid plating hidden under shimmering fur, massive paws that would grow to fit a suitably powerful role, was everything the Overseer dreamed of being... Itself, slid closer to Master Vargas, painted black and deadly.

The thought was enough to make the winged feline's whiskers twitch with a smirk. How many other cats had disappointed it? Why, it could barely count them on its toes. Too many. This one would have to do better to earn Cain's rare respect... And if it failed, well, well, well...

Better to not think so grimly. Master Vargas had taught his Overseer well, and now it reviewed its plan with a twitch of its tail. The glow of teal raised and locked upon Cain, and suddenly their eyes had locked. "Obieth," it spoke, leaning forward on its paws, and with a pounce it swooped down, landing neatly before the young valkhound.

"Aethril requested that I train you," it explained shortly. "I am Master Vargas's Overseer." Wings folded neatly at its side, paws neatly settled together and chin held high. "You may call me Overseer Cain."

There, introductions done. "Before we begin," Cain settled back on its haunches, eyeing Obieth thoughtfully. "Do you have questions?"

There were a number of ways that Cain could pry uncertainties from Obieth: through testing, through observation, through communication of course... but, no, no. Cain was on the look out for something deeper, something that a clever cat could keep from the others. So magic it was, careful and cautious, prying deeper into the thoughts that lurked beneath the surface. At best, it would be able to learn of Obieth's biases and show them how they could be used against her; at worst, Cain would find treachery in her heart. Either way, Cain was not about to leave a stone unturned.

@Obieth

There was a slight start as Cain swept down: a cat's reflexes given grace, a swift step backward with tensed muscles. But where another creature might have looked jolted, Obieth looked only sleek.

Inside her mind was a... stranger story, as her eyes continued to regard Cain without expression. It was an odd mix of royalty and feral beast. The royalty lay in her withheld emotion, her indifference; it was not that she necessarily considered herself superior to Cain, but that she held a prim and catlike apathy toward it. She was certain in herself; it was the Overseer she was waiting to judge. (And there was no real basis to her self-confidence. It had never been shattered, certainly--but it had never been tested. She was simply Cat in her surety.)

Then there was the feral aspect: the predator, staring, trying to gauge what Cain was to her. "Overseer" was not a definition in her instinct. And while there was no rebellion in her, not toward Cain or Aethril, there was no suboordination, either. She obeyed Aethril because Aethril gave her food. A place to sleep. Touch. She did not obey out of fear or servitude, but choice, and choice in cats was always so fickle. This aspect of Obieth was gauging the confidence, the feline attitude, in Cain's own posture, its words. It was judging it, too, to be cat, despite the fact that neither of them truly were. It was recognizing the sameness that they shared, regardless of that feature's source.

And of Cain itself? What thoughts did she hold of it; what details would it read? There was its smallness, which she noted, but did not consider good or bad, as yet. As a tiger may greet a housecat, she simply noted and disregarded it; it was still cat. There were the strange ears. She did not like those. The wings--odd. She did not judge them. Then there were the eyes: blood red, large, staring. And of these, she approved.

Her mind, then, was relatively empty of words. Aside from that baseless sense of perfection of self, and the aloof judging of Cain, there were no real true thoughts: it could read all of her easily enough but when her answer came, her voice husky, it was truth.

"I have no questions," she answered. She didn't. She didn't know enough about Cain, or about Overseers, or training, to have any--and she did not care. She waited, then, as indifferent as she'd been a moment ago (if more relaxed, now that the mysterious Thing On The Lamppost That Didn't Belong was resolved), for the Overseer to begin.

@Garnet-Delta

It'd only been a few days since Aethril had sent Cain on its way back to Vargas, but it'd only been one day since she accidentally infected herself with Voidlung. The disease left her fatigued, coughing up fluids fairly frequently, hoarse and wheezy. The only thing that brought her comfort was long, hot baths riddled with spells to help her recover.

This particular bath brought her some comfort. The warm water and recovering spells left her breathing a little clearer, but it seemed all too short as-- while she was scrubbing away at her hair --she remembered Cain was supposed to be coming back.

There was a hushed series of curses as the Hand left the bath, got dressed, left her room-- said good morning to Eggbert, as any civilized being should --and sent Obieth to go meet the Overseer for training. Aethril, however, wanted to see the training for herself, too, to make sure Cain knew what they were doing.

But not without a gift.

Aethril held her cloak close to her body when she finally emerged into the courtyard, not entirely unlike an unwell Victorian mistress, with a bowl of sweet-smelling milk and cream in one hand. "Sorry I'm late," she rasped with the rapid click-click-click of her heels, going for the Overseer's side.

She set the bowl down. "Vargas told me about your new name," she smiled wearily. "Congratulations, Cain. It suits you very well." With the happy-new-name-gift settled by the Overseer, Aethril took a little seat on the bench to watch the cats go about their training.

@Garnet-delta

Obieth was a curious little creation, standing taller than Overseer Cain even at a bare first cycle, already showing intelligence and keen calculation thought in those sharp teal eyes. As Cain tucked in its wings, it observed the straight forward confidence and the lack of thought-- so she was running primarily on instinct, it seemed, at the moment? Too young to fully form her own ideas beyond base need and want, perhaps?

It was reminded, a touch, of Vjira. At least this one spoke.

Before Overseer Cain could begin, Aethril's clicking heels drew its attention, ear swiveling toward the sound. It kept its gaze upon Obieth for a moment more, before turning to the Hand who addressed them. "Thank you," it replied to her, restraining every muscle that wished to come running at the sight of the sloshing cream in the porcelean dish. Instead, it dipped its head respectfully, and took a small lap of the milk when it was placed beside it. "We were just starting."

The Overseer's crimson gaze returned to Obieth, appraising. It took its paw and nudged it toward Obieth in offering as it began to speak. "It is my understanding that you are Aethril's bodyguard. You are young," it explained, "and inexperienced." To seal the deal, it let loose a thread of magic, one that would help with this little bond it was forming with the fellow feline. "There are those who might wish to harm Aethril. We will be training so that you can defend Aethril from any who oppose her." Perhaps Overseer Cain was explaining the obvious to Obieth, but considering the lack of response and questions, it was better to make explicit what it was doing before jumping into the nitty gritty.

"First, I will need to know what you are capable of," Overseer Cain stated. It didn't want to overwhelm Obieth, or jump straight into a test that could escalate before trust was built. Let its magic take hold, let the Valkhound become comfortable around it. If she had faith in Cain, things would go a bit smoother. "What do you believe your greatest strength is?" It asked, "and your greatest weakness?" Would Obieth admit to anything of the sort? The Overseer almost hoped it wouldn't.

Hubris could be as much a strength as it was a weakness, after all.

@Obieth

Teal eyes flicked to Aethril as her Hand entered, and tracked her as she made her way in. She watched with indifference the cream that was placed down--she herself hadn't been all that interested in dairy products.

Perhaps Cain would have been disappointed to find that Obieth would not be growing. She had hatched at full size, and that's how big she would stay: she was no monster, not like some of the Chaos creations. She was a large leopard, and little more, but her proportions might hint at that, at least.

Her outward demeanor did not change one whit when the magic struck her, either. It wasn't that it hadn't worked--her perception of Cain, at first reserved, subtly changed to one of trust and approval. But her opinion before had simply been reserved, and her natural behavior was always aloof. She did, however, pay close attention to its words, and where she might have taken them in before to weigh and judge them, she found herself inexplicably accepting them at face value. Surely Overseer Cain could be trusted; Aethril trusted it, after all, did she not?

She didn't comment on being called young or experienced--she knew those things. She'd told Aethril as much, herself. The questions, however--those gave her pause, and after a moment, she answered with slow and thoughtful words. Her unblinking gaze, though, didn't waver from Cain's red eyes. "I don't know what I am capable of yet. Or... I do not know... my limits." Was that right-? Were there limits? Tail curled around her haunches as she sat, and flicked there for a moment. "...I know how to reach into minds. I know how to eat. I know how to hide." For a moment, she was tempted to touch into Cain's mind herself, to test it, to test the limits of how far it would let her go--but no; she liked this creature, didn't she? (Why?) No, she'd respect what Aethril had taught her of the boundaries--the territory--of the mind.

"My strength... this magic. I cannot show you. I am... not allowed," and ears briefly turned back as she glanced to Aethril. Mind was Off-Limits, except for potential enemies. Her gaze shifted back to Cain. "Weakness... you know it. You have said it." She still sounded plain--simply-spoken--but her words certainly held a good amount of self-awareness in them. "I do not know enough... things," and she drew one paw over the ground, as if to mark those 'things' wordlessly in the dirt.

She looked to Cain again, waiting, expectant--hopeful? "You will teach me," she said, and it wasn't a command--but nor it was a question. It sounded half-tentative, half-certain, and perhaps a dash of hopeful.

@Aethril

There was a twinge of approval rising in Aethril's chest-- or perhaps that was more violet-black fluids wanting to be coughed out. Regardless, she offered a little nod to Obieth at her glance, and she was proud-- she'd learned her boundaries. "You can show Cain if they'd like to see it," she offered hoarsely.

Otherwise, the Hand was quiet. Bleary eyes-- though as keen as they could be, mid-plague --darted between Obieth and the Garnet carefully. Her focus was trained primarily on the latter. She'd yet to see any of the Overseer's abilities, and she was interested to see what it planned to train the Valkhound.

More importantly, she wanted to see why this one seemed to be Vargas's pride and joy.

@Garnet-delta

And so, Cain was... pleasantly surprised, by the fellow feline's personal awareness. It had been prepared for cockiness, aloof pride, and when it was met with a simple explanation that she did not know her limits or capablities to their full extent, a smile could be found curling Cain's whiskers.

This? This Cain could use. It listened intently to Obieth's list of skills: arcane-like magic, eating, hiding. As the larger feline reluctantly admitted that she had been disallowed use of her magic by the Hand, Cain's crimson eyes slipped thoughtfully toward Aethril.

Aethril, in turn, handed permission over to Overseer Cain to do what it felt was correct. There was a danger in corruption magic, one that seeped into ones bones if exposed too often, but Cain had been careful to avoid it. A few small glimpses would not hurt, and it presumed Master Vargas would know a way to keep the corruption from taking hold of it if it were to ask him.

If not, then it would be more careful in the future. For now, it had a job to do, and it did not shy away from the gritter aspects of the task. Obieth was aware of her shortcomings, and willing to learn. The Overseer nodded, and it opened its mind toward its fellow feline. "You may reach into my mind, while we train," it offered voicelessly into Obieth's thoughts. "I am telling you this through my own magic. It is capable of seeing into your mind, but I will not pry. Instead," Cain swept its tail through the air behind it as it rose to its feet.

"I would like to show you... some, of what I know." This was a dangerous prospect: there were, of course, secrets that Cain did not want to expose to anyone. Though it was entirely possible that both Obieth and Aethril could snatch that paltry privacy right from its skull without warning, Cain figured they would be unlikely to if Cain acted as though there was nothing to hide. After all, who would think much at all of the smallest fragments of memories, sparsely noted through days and weeks of training and working for its Master?

What Cain instead focused on was that training:

Its memories started small. It did not impose them into Obieth's mind, but instead left its own mind open for Obieth to reach in and take what she would from the experience.

It began with Master (then Overseer,) Vargas supervising it and its clutchmates, gathering them up for a game of sorts. The group was instructed to hide, and try to catch one another. It was here that the magic of hiding was brought to the forefront of then-Delta's attention, more so than ever before, but an important lesson came with it: a clattering of bones in the fortress, giving away its clutchmates. One could turn completely invisible, but it meant nothing without awareness of one's surroundings. A single pawprint in the dust, and you had a trail.

The next came: hours dedicated to the memorization of escape routes in Orion. You have an advantage, Overseer Cain thought softly over the memory of its own paws finding a new hole to vanish into. When protecting Aethril here, you can know every hallway. Every room. Every escape. Your enemies will not know it as intimately as you, and she would need to know every inch of it, and know when something was out of place.

Master Vargas had taught Cain much of assassination. Though there were many more memories it could reach to, it instead looked toward an important conversation, back among the bones of Canis. Master Vargas towering over it, speaking words that it had since stitched into its very soul.

In this memory, Cain's body was perfectly invisible, blended flawlessly into the surrounding stone. It was a-- well, an imagined bird's eye view, not something it had seen with its own eyes, obviously. "The reason I am giving you all of these... fallbacks; all of this insurance to learn about, is an important one! Perhaps only one in ten of those you are to watch will sense you as I can." But Cain's memory did pulse with the thrum of red sense, a sixth sense that Obieth wouldn't have experienced before. Its magic outlined its own body with each heartbeat, as well as Master Vargas's looming presence. "And if you have a plan, with a nine out of ten success chance, surely that would be enough-?"

The memories shifted through these words. Cain started to show more of its magic, through its memories, to Obieth: a much younger Delta, crouched in a frozen, narrow tunnel, looming on its perch. "What of ninety-nine out of one hundred-? It depends on how long you want to live." That heart-sensing magic picking up the life of a young lesser rat, and suddenly seizing it. "Perhaps you will be lucky and your first ninety-nine tasks will succeed, flawlessly, with an excellent--" Delta's magic drove it toward a waiting ice fang. "--but not perfect!--plan." The memory ended abruptly with the death of that rat.

And came the next, featuring a strange group of survivors from the Trial: Obieth would not have the context as their words were drowned out by Vargas's words, but they barked and bayed at Delta and Alpha, until they were chased from the tunnel by the Orthoclase's snapping jaws and the force of Garnet's magic. "Perhaps you examined it for loopholes and found nothing, or only one, one small chance of failure--" One of them returned, the white-furred hog, and the next memory showed her: Sora, whispering to Bloodstone. Again, the Sentinels chased off Sora and Delta had ushered Bloodstone back into the tunnel. "-- and deemed it 'unimportant.'" Yet, mere days after, the Bloodstone turned upon them, teeth bared and furious at their Master. The Bloodstone fled, yet the betrayal left Delta feeling cold.

Perhaps Bloodstone should be the one that Cain brought to Aehtril. Hm.

More memories, shorter, briefer. Cain grabbing the wills of lessers by their blood and forcing them into their deaths, again, and again. "But eventually--first, or tenth, or fiftieth--it would fail." And then, the Overseer allowed Obieth to see a moment of weakness it had not admitted to anyone: its magic backfiring, sending a surge through its body, holding it so tight that it could do nothing but crumple to the ground. This, however, was done in private-- with no one around to endanger it. "So it is a matter of how long you wish to live. Long enough for ten missions? One hundred? A thousand? -Plan to never fail. Never. Again, it rose to its feet, found a dark corner, and surveyed its options. While lurking somewhere obscured, it continued to wreck havoc upon more lessers. Practicing, again, and again. "Ensure your plans are as foolproof, as flawless, as you can make them. Study your approach. Study your prey. Study your magic, and practice. And if you do so, well. One with a one hundred percent success rate is not going to fail."

"Do you understand?" Cain's voice came softly from its throat, keen and curious. "Are you ready for practical training, or do you have questions?" Either way, the lessons moving forward would be fascinating to witness.

@Obieth

The sudden intrusion was... unexpected, and after an initial jolt from Obieth, to Aethril it must have seemed that the pair were simply perched facing one another in utter silence as the seconds ticked away.

She refrained, at first, from reaching her own powers back--Cain was speaking to her, granting knowledge through their link, and her newfound (unnatural) like of them kept her respectfully attentive. Rather than respond immediately, she took in Cain's words (or, rather, thoughts) and held them in her mind, examining them, considering their wisdom. Her own thoughts were a mere backdrop, a curtain behind Cain's show, a quiet rustle of cloth changing subtly as the Overseer spoke. They were unobtrusive, though if Cain chose to eavesdrop on those, they would undoubtedly not be hard to pick from her mind.

Every hallway. Every room. Every escape. The thought hung there, ringing softly through her mind like some velvet-clad bell, precious and perfect; her teal eyes cut away, lancing over the Palace and its columns, the gleaming marble of its arches. Cain's advice was perfection, she thought; like the facets on a diamond, at once proving its own worth--and Cain's experience, too. If it knew such things, then it must have learned them--it must have trained, and fought, and lived.

Her regard for the Overseer, and for its teachings, immediately ticked up a notch.

Then there was Vargas--a thought unbidden, another one that jolted her and she realized it was not her own. Recognition flared, and the faint, distant thought: I knew him. Inaccurate, in truth. She had met him, and only once. She did not and had never really known him. But: irrelevant, now; it was her reflex, and now she sat, silent and still, and watched the show that Cain sent dancing across her mind. Or, rather, she held her own consciousness close, and observed its own opened thoughts.

Perfection.

Overseer Cain would accept nothing else. No--success would accept nothing else. She would accept nothing else. Perfection. The word was a quiet thought, purred through her mind in distant approval. Yes; she was Valkhound, and she was feline. She would seek... perfection.

I understand, came the thought, and though emotionally indifferent it was nonetheless attentive. But behind it lay the mischief of a predator, the Chaos of a Valkhound. And despite the strange respect that Obieth now felt for Overseer Cain, she felt the desire, too, to prove her own worth.

What coiled back, subtle but corrupted--like black smoke--along their mental link was Obieth's own power. It came not only with words, but with coiled venom, much as Cain's own charming magic had done: an urge impressed toward the Overseer, a promise that Obieth was Perfection. That she was beautiful; that she was flawless. Peerless. That the potential within her was unmatched. That she was royalty; that Cain would never find her like again.

She could do no wrong.

It was a subtle push, and it was not as strong as she would have liked; but rather than use it to manipulate the Overseer, she whispered into its mind in turn. I understand. And this is mine. It is... more than words. You feel that I am perfection-? That I am perfect, in every way. She drew herself up, half-lidded eyes regarding Cain in external silence.

My power is not only words. It is belief. It is influence.

She was so terribly pleased with it. If only she knew.

But... I do not know how far it goes. You-... You can teach me? Again, it was... hopeful; aloof, but cunning lay behind her eyes. Yes; Cain would teach. And she would learn. Together, perhaps they would be unstoppable.

@Aethril (pls enjoy 2 cats staring at each other in silence thx)
@Cain