Aethril was wary, gently cautious, but there was a sense of optimism that could be felt with the flick of Garnet-Delta's magic. Something halfway between relief and excitement, and mingling interest to see what the Overseer would bring to her to inspect.

But her lip was curling, and she thought of the Clearstone spire. Surely this wasn't Dontacael's doing-- surely there was something the Overseer had missed. She'd need more information on this, and these little concerns were quietly tucked away with the rest of Aethril's worries about the Hive.

"Thank you," she said, swivelling to lounge back in the sun-chair. "While the prospect of random, brain-damaged gembounds spawning throughout the caves is concerning, I suppose it isn't much of an issue until they get dangerous." And when it came to that, it was time for genocide, and Aethril could handle that, probably.

Her legs folded over and she leant right back. "Take your time, now," the Hand went on. "I don't want this getting in the way with your work with Vargas. He doesn't strike me as the particularly patient type." This much was delivered with some quiet amusement, but it was entirely genuine. Her impression of Vargas was that, despite his praises of the Overseer, he'd kill it if it failed to do its tasks.

"I've no more questions for you, Overseer. It was lovely meeting you," Aethril's hands folded over on her stomach absently, relaxing. "I'll see you when to come to train Obieth."

And, with this, Aethril went quiet as she resumed her favourite activity: doing absolutely nothing, in bliss.

exit, possibly
@Garnet-Delta

The Overseer felt Aethril's subtle interest, and it knew with a twitch of its whiskers that the Hand would wait and see before she gave proper validation. After all, words were simply words until they were turned to blood. A smart woman--

There was a hint of something, a twinge that the Overseer couldn't quite pinpoint. It... Hopefully had nothing to do with itself, but its ears pricked more intently when she spoke again, offering her thanks. Until they got dangerous. Had any of the new generation ever proved dangerous? It thought it over, trying to pull-- the dragons... Yes, there were dangerous ones out there. But proud, self-defensive, not the sort to bring the fight necessarily to them.

The Overseer would keep it in mind, all the same, because the Hand spoke of actually doing something to the rebels and that struck it right in its ethics and ambitions.

Take your time, she said, which amused it. It was a patient creature itself, something that Master Vargas had taught it. The implication that Vargas wasn't patient humored it, but it supposed Vargas put up that impression. Sometimes, the Overseer thought, Vargas was too patient. When the amusement faded, all that remained was a cold, bitter aftertaste.

"Very well," the Overseer purred, rising to its feet. Its tongue washed over its milk-soaked lips, and it eyed the Hand for a moment longer. "We'll be in touch." Confident that it would only continue to earn the respect and recognition from her, it raised its tail with a swish, and its magic activated. From its stone outward, its body shimmered and vanished into thin air, and it hopped down from the table with barely a sound, and slipped back out into the Palace halls.

@Aethril for visibility, exit