- THE LEVIATHAN -

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of either Chaos-Two or Khavur in a couple cycles' time. It hadn't bothered him overmuch; he'd authorized their travel before Chaos-Two had utterly botched its trial, and hadn't found them in time to revoke it. He'd been busy, too, with Ursa; and as a result he didn't know about the scuffles that had occurred back here in Draco itself. Perhaps Totum knew, but if so, nobody had mentioned it to him yet.

But he still had to deal with Chaos-Two's utter failure. It had been a bizarre response, completely at odds with both what he'd expected and all of Chaos-Two's behavior up until that point. A training he'd carefully overseen had collapsed like a broken, burning house of cards, leaving nothing but a tumble of debris and smoke, and Vargas had to decide how to fix it.

His first impulse, and a carryover from an older era, was to sweep it all aside and begin anew. But he knew that Khavur held some sort of link with Chaos-Two; he did not know, still, how deep. They cared for one another, at least. They travelled together, they looked after one another; a threat to Chaos-Two was one thing that would drive Khavur out of its mind. So perhaps Khavur would hold some insight; some way to build the cards back up from dust, without sweeping them from the table entirely.

He intended, too, to check on Khavur itself: to see how it was faring. He did not want to repeat his errors with the Orthoclase, who had drifted away and then departed, it seemed, entirely. (He still felt a little bad about that, believe it or not.)

So on he stalked, all spines and quills and purple limbs, toxic eyes cutting through the voidlight.

"KHAVUR?" he called out, his voice echoing through Draco. Perhaps today it would be in earshot, and he could begin to tackle these troubles... with help, for once, and useful advice, instead of his personal judgment alone.

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

It had not been long since Khavur had taken Maximus to dispatch on the second leg of this journey of theirs. Of course, it had always planned to return. It didn't know what it would tell Master Vargas though. Perhaps things like... that it went, what it learned, what it trained to do, that kind of thing. He would not get the full details of the more "tedious" or "emotional" bits, naturally. Those were Khavur's to keep. Khavur's and Maximus's.

"KHAVUR?"

Yup, that was the Reaver's given name. The Reaver that couldn't possibly imagine how awful it would be to have Master Vargas sharing thoughts and emotions with anyone. Imagine that stern, booming voice, ALWAYS in your head, at ALL times!! Well, in some ways it already was, but... literally, I mean. Inescapable, audible, tangible. Anyways-

Khavur responded by arriving. It flew over, maneuvering carefully from stone surface to stone surface until it could drop down in front of Master Vargas. Perhaps it did this to show that it had practiced this, learned more about the ability. Perhaps it just wanted to make a... startling impression. Regardless, once it landed, the Reaver would stand there quietly for a moment, just looking at Master Vargas. Sort of feeling like the bright flashy colors on its skin was enough of an introduction. ...It wasn't.

"I am here Master Vargas," Khavur said at last. The question of why that was hung unspoken in the air. Did it have to be spoken? Was Khavur getting to used to simply being understood?

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Khavur's flight was a pleasant surprise, and enough to turn the edges of his mood, a little. Vargas ran toxic eyes over the wings. It didn't fly often; and this flight looked fairly well-practiced. For once, Khavur looked the true and monstrous beast Vargas had had in mind when initially designing it.

"It is good to see you getting good use out of your wings," he told it, and carefully-phrased. "I came for two things." Straight to business. "First: to check on you, on how you are doing. I do not mean progress but your state. Mood, needs," he clarified, rattling these off as if they were normal for him, as though these questions from Vargas were little more than fact.

They were, again, mistakes he didn't wish to repeat.

"Second, I came to ask your opinion. You know Chaos-Two better than I do. I had set up a trial for it, at its request; it had believed itself to be ready and so did I. It gave up and fled, crying," and he did his best to hide the disgust from his tone. "I want to know if you hold any insight as to why. This is the first time it has shown weakness, and it was catastrophic."

Surely Khavur, of all of them, did not need to be told how out of his way he had gone for Chaos-Two; he didn't bother to list the concessions he had made toward its vulnerabilities, the special task he'd assigned it, the caution with which he'd treated it all its life. Khavur would know; it didn't bear repeating. "And, do you have an opinion on what I should do about it?"

Failure alone was no reason to kill a Forge, but Chaos-Two had crossed a few lines in its departure. It still wasn't the first place Vargas would want to go, with this, and so he hoped that Khavur would have a perhaps more useful idea than that.

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Cutting straight to business was not unusual for Master Vargas. The first question, on the other hand, absolutely was. Mood needs...? Was that the closest Master Vargas could get to saying "How are you doing?" Khavur had to hide its bewilderment on both faces. Consideration for mood was, perhaps, almost small talk... and beyond that, almost caring. That was what Maximus did -- had Master Vargas mutated in some way, like how Maximus had?! Entered a chrysalis and come out with a different internal plan? Alright, no, of course not. That's enough being silly. Surprising as it was, there was also another question to pay attention to.

About Maximus's trial. Ah. Khavur still felt a level of resentment about that. No doubt Maximus did as well. Teaching Draconua was risky and terrible, even when she wanted to learn what was being taught. Ah, but Master Vargas didn't know about that, did he? Couldn't have -- it had happened outside of Draco, outside of his spheres of knowledge or influence. That, or anyone who saw hadn't registered it as something to report.

Khavur was... grateful, actually, that Master Vargas was asking it for advice on the matter. He didn't know, and he probably shouldn't learn, that asking Khavur was like asking Maximus directly... via telephone. Khavur would pick up its end of the line and relay things if necessary, but first, to address the former question:

"I... am doing well. My mood, I mean. It..." Master Vargas didn't know about that either, did he? Otherwise he would've said, right? Wrong wrong wong this-might-be-a-test-don't-assume-- "...It fluctuates. But the journey I have taken has been useful, in many ways. I think I better understand now..." Khavur would drift away, rethink, and return. "I believe the fluctuations in my mood will not cause any disruptions." Firmly spoken; whether he knew about that past or not, there would be certainty.


Now, the latter:

"And I do have an opinion about what you should do with... Chaos-Two." Khavur despised this routine. Maximus had an identity! Master Vargas had put a heap of flaming bricks between them and earning the right to such a thing. But no matter, no matter, Khavur had to maintain control... "You saw... only a fraction of what I would do if ever there were a circumstance in which Chaos-Two were harmed." Khavur was trying to keep its voice level, but the edge was still laced in there, threatening to shred through plated armor-- "And so of course... well, before I get to that... hm..." Puzzling its way through this rocky sea of words was difficult. Still, it had to persist quickly, lest Master Vargas go back on his decision for advice. "Teaching Draconua was the trial, correct? I know that she is teachable as I have taught her myself, but... she only learns what she wishes to learn, when she wishes to learn it. This, combined with the fact that she is older than the rest of us... makes her, specifically, impossible for us to teach reliably. What does she not already know that we can teach? And then, what would she want to learn, from that pool of options? I taught her flight at her" (threatening and demanding) "request. That may be the last skill she will ever want or need to learn from another." Khavur's large-horned head would remain trained on Master Vargas, unwavering. The small-horned head would drift off, never once being used for speech. "The punishment for displeasing her is dangerous, even life-threatening." Now all eyes were back on Master Vargas, two steely gazes.

"From what I understood of the trial... Chaos-Two was threatened in such a way." Maximus had run to Khavur for comfort, protection... then had stayed in Pegasus for further, more physical protection. The memory made Khavur want to scream. "This, I believe, was the cause for the..." Khavur was not about to call Maximus's reaction 'weakness', "...distress." That was putting it lightly. "The threat to Chaos-Two's life was made... not by you directly, but because of the trial you gave. I suppose what I am leading to, Master Vargas, is that... I do not think my sibling should be harmed. I do not want any attempts on Chaos-Two's life to be made as a result for failing a trial," With all points made, Khavur felt it might now be safer to put its foot on the ground about these opinions the Master had asked for. "and in my personal opinion, I think you... you could give Chaos-Two another chance. A different being to train."


There was a brief moment where Khavur thought about continuing. It decided, quite abruptly, that it must. It was already holding enough back. "Breaking under the highest pressure may be a weakness in that moment, yes..." Heat was beginning to enter Khavur's words. Just a slightest bit of fervor made itself audible as the Reaver built up to the final conclusion: "but it is not definitively weak. And it is not weakness forever. Some things, as you know, must be broken to be perfected," Both sets of eyes were now seeking to stare directly into Master Vargas's, as if to bury themselves in his mind forever. "and you can break and rebuild someone without erasing them completely. That is growth."

A moment to breathe and retreat as Khavur thought: That was them. All of them, the recent batch of spawn, growing in this nest. Their identity was built around the concept. If Master Vargas truly did not believe in growth, then did he even truly believe in chaos? he should have eviscerated them all from the moment they were hatched, along with every plant and Lesser in sight. Either do that then and now, or let them all be as they were meant to be. Let them grow.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Its mood fluctuates-? He made an immediate note to pursue that further--it was concerning, and it was the first he'd heard of it. Or at least, that he remembered. It wasn't something he wanted to let go, and it was important to show concern of course, as well. He did not want his spawn thinking itself forgotten, despite how busy he had been.

"I am glad the journey was good for you, then. When we are finished discussing Chaos-Two, I would hear more about your mood fluctuations." And then, in a remarkable display of actual empathy that might have almost been at astonishing "normal person" levels: "It sounds as though it may be frustrating?"

And then...

'You saw... only a fraction of what I would do if ever there were a circumstance in which Chaos-Two were harmed.' To say that Vargas was taken aback by this would have been an understatement. His immediate, reflexive urge was to lash out and tear into Khavur, but it was not strong enough to act on--he tamped that down and went back over that sentence in his mind. Was it threatening me..? he asked himself, in utter disbelief.

He was so shocked by its audacity--and his own uncertainty if he could possibly be interpreting that correctly--that he was silent throughout all the rest of what Khavur said.

And beyond.

He sat, staring, debating. He hadn't missed the rest of what the revived Oilstone had gone on to say, but after absorbing it, his mind at once circled back.

Doubts flickered through him. Not fear of Khavur, by any means, but disappointment in it was certainly there. No, his doubts were of another sort. Have I been too soft, that they speak OPENLY like this?! -Have I been too harsh, that they feel the need?! Too kind? Too cruel? Too patient? Too demanding?

Six acid eyes narrowed as he gathered himself, leaning in a fraction, staring at the Reaver. "That sounded," he began slowly, "like a threat. But I know you would not be foolish enough to make a true threat, and so I will take it as a statement of fact: that you would lose control. I will address that in a moment. For now: you have begun, I think, with a critical piece of misinformation."

Vargas didn't lean back, but his tone became a little less severe, his words less slow and emphasized. "Chaos-Two's trial was not to teach Draconua a thing--though it was certainly led to believe as much. Let me go back a moment, Khavur, because this issue keeps... resurfacing, and it is an ugly one! I grow tired of it, now. When I became a Master I resolved to do things my way. I assured all of your safeties. In the time since, which of you have I harmed-? Truly harmed, past tests, past spars. Which of you have I killed-? When Chaos-Two was hatched, deformed and blind, unable barely to walk, did I kill it-?" These questions, being obviously rhetorical, were not given gaps for answers. Slowly, inexorably, the Leviathan continued his march of words. "Did I relegate it, even, to the sidelines? I found it a task, Khavur. Something it enjoyed doing. I trained it, and encouraged it, and even remade it to remove its pain. The fact that both of you hold so little faith in my attempts at a new method of leadership is... disappointing," and fuck him, it was. He let the word hang, in part because he was dwelling on it. Disappointed.

"At no point have I ever caused it harm. When I brought Draconua to it, I had spoken to her in advance. Asked her to make a display, but not to harm it. It was meant to be intimidating. I tell you this not to berate you but so you understand what I am about to tell you. When Chaos-Two was hatched, it showed determination. It showed will. It held a desire to prove itself in a way that I felt indomitable! It wanted to show that it was as good as any other creature in the caves, despite its disability," and Vargas was suddenly animated, suddenly vehement, his voice raised, his arm swinging to gesture here and there. He felt strongly about this. Frustrated? Disappointed? It was unclear; but it was obvious that he had thought much, once upon a time, of the Reaver's sibling. "I respected that, and I did my best to help it grow and learn, to find its place. And it flourished, for the most part. It trained other Valkhounds. Creations intended for Lord Dhracia herself! For the both of you to think that a simple appearance of Draconua in its test--its test!--which is meant to be quite harsh, and I warned it of such!--meant its impending destruction..? Your lack of faith in me is-... Yes, disappointing," Vargas finished, with faint disgust in his tone. (He very much needed a thesaurus.)

"I was stood close by, and when Draconua did lose control--when Chaos-Two provoked her--I stepped in. I fought her back, and it got away safely. It was, and is, unharmed." A pause, as he studied Khavur.

"Now--I came here to ask your opinion and I am glad that you have given it but I wanted that clear from the outset. It was not an impossible trial, because it did not have to teach Draconua a damn thing. I simply wanted it to prove that same determination I had seen in it from the outset: its innovation and its stubbornness. And it did show that. It was seconds off success, by my own decree, when it simply gave up." Dare he say, 'disappointed' yet again?

"I find it disappointing, too," (there it was) "that you think I would punish it with death for its failure." (In fairness... he had considered it.) "I will be laying down new punishments the next time I gather the Forge--not to grow more harsh but as a suggestion handed to me by one of your colleagues. Apparently, as Overseer Cain tells me, you all fear I will come down with 'death' at the first whisper of failure. It is time to point out that 'hunting for meat for the Forge' and 'sentry duty' are also possible punishments." This held sardonic, almost bitter amusement in it. But perhaps it would help, he felt; perhaps if they knew there were tiers of punishment aside from "instant death" they would stop drifting apart, clashing, failing.

"As for a new trial--I asked your opinion and I thank you for it. But I told it it could have a new Trial, if it wished; that it must consider if it wishes a new responsibility entirely, or to make a second attempt. It has not returned to me to report with its decision, and the alotted time has passed. I assumed it did not want another test." He studied Khavur, puzzled.

Had Chaos-Two simply ignored his proclamation, at the end of its trial? Had it missed it, in its own damaged state?

"I am trying to figure out what to do about its failure if it has simply shut down. It has not requested a new responsibility. It has not requested a new trial. It has ignored my orders to do one or the other." Claws tapped the floor. "Is there something else it wants to do? Is there something else that holds its passion? There must be punishment for it storming off--for its failure to report in, for its screaming defiance instead of speech at the trial's end. I expect it to keep more patience than that, considering all the patience I have shown for it. Respect goes both ways," he added, and wasn't that a nice little cliche? But it was true; and Vargas grunted. "The problem is that I do not know what punishment, or what task to try to offer it, or what to do about it not reporting in."

He eyed Khavur. "I was hoping that you had an idea; some insight beyond 'it was not fair,' which--had it been the task you imagined it to be--it would not have been. But it was not, so all of that is rather... null. I suppose I can address it at the meeting, then," and his tone was almost weary, but at least he had an answer. "As for your remark that I am certain was not a threat, I will point out two things. First, bear the patience I have shown in mind. That patience will very quickly wear thin and snap and I have no intention of leaving threats to the Chaos Forge lying around and festering. Second, the pair of you hold a bond that would not have been allowed in my era. The responsibility to prove its value--or at least its lack of interference with our work--is on you. On the two of you. I have ignored it on the assumption that you are different creatures than in my era; that perhaps such things are needed. If it turns out that this bond instead challenges your loyalties to myself or to the Forge, I will not only end it, but prevent any such bonds from being maintained among the others in the future. Your first loyalty is to me, to this Forge, to the Nest. Not to Chaos-Two. I cannot risk allowing otherwise. Do not prove to me that this bond is a liability, Khavur. I will not mention this again." And did he mean the seeming-threat? Or the bond itself? He was staring, either way.

He thought he'd handled it rather well; clear, concise, and honest. Perhaps the Reaver would not like his explanation but it was a true one; Vargas couldn't risk conflicting loyalties tearing at the Forge when the nest's very fate rested on it. He could not risk rebellion. "Do not take my softness for weakness," he added, quietly, and it was unclear which part he considered "soft."

"Regardless... forget this now. I will address Chaos-Two's problems at the meeting, and I hope that you hold a little faith in that. If it has forgotten that it was meant to report, then send it to me. If it has chosen not to, then so be it. As for you, I want to know about these mood fluctuations that you have mentioned. Are they disturbing you? What are they?"

There was no "do you understand" to the entire... tirade? No, it had not been angry. His little speech, then. He didn't ask if Khavur understood, or agreed, because he was stating fact; and he was tired of the repetition, tired of telling himself over and over that this way was a better way, that soon they would all fall in line. Did he want to return to heavy-handed violence? No; with the Overseer's advice, he'd try to modify what he had, change the system without throwing it away, much as (ironically) Khavur had just suggested regarding Chaos-Two itself. But it was almost dread of that very system that had him so weary. He did not want to rule through violence, to have them rebelling and terrified, to have to watch another slinking away with a broken mind. But if this attempt at kindness--poor as it may be--was prompting the same sorts of rebellion? They'd been given what he could offer, but were infinitely ravenous for more. Would they tear him to pieces to get it? Would he need to break them in advance; to ensure nothing here could harm him?

What was too harsh? What was too kind?...

Ahh, the inner struggles of the tyrant dictator.

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.
Silence waxed and waned like passing moons, stretched out minutes into eons; an astronomical anomaly that would keep all four of Khavur's eyes tethered to the source. The tension it had so foolishly sparked was now building, heating the womb of Draco, until it might as well be called the tomb of Draco. When the curse of silence was finally broken, Khavur was, for a flash, certain of death -- it blocked off the link to Maximus. The hot flash, too, would pass, and in its wake a thundering titan of words, a tsunami that, with each progressive sentence, caused Khavur to shrivel up more and more like some kind of weed.

Here were the most venomous, vile extracts we can present:

That sounded like a threat.

I grow tired of it, now. When I became a Master I resolved to do things my way.

When Chaos-Two was hatched, deformed and blind, unable barely to walk, did I kill it-?

The fact that both of you hold so little faith in my attempts at a new method of leadership is... disappointing.

... disappointing.

It was not an impossible trial, because it did not have to teach Draconua a damn thing.

It was seconds off success, by my own decree, when it simply gave up.

... disappointing ...

It has ignored my orders to do on-- disappointing.

I was hoping-- disappointing.

P- Disappointing.

Disappointing.

Disappointing.

. . .

Call it what you want, blame it on whatever abstract concept you must- but Khavur knew. In all those absent spaces, with every sense but sound, Khavur could tell that it was there. 'Disappointment'. Not in something stupid like LACK OF FAITH IN HIS LEADERSHIP or in, Creator forbid, VARGAS HIMSELF. No, the 'disappointment' spread further, it coiled around the torpefied bodies of Khavur and Max- and V-Chaos-Two, and it waited to strike. Like lightning it could descend, at any moment, like venomous snakes, the pitchforks of demons, and smite them both. Khavur felt small; felt mortal again. As mortal as a sickly weed, at the mercy of maggots, someone's heel, the very ground it rooted itself into. Sucking life and air from other things because its one desperate goal, the only purpose it ever had, was simply to live, even if that meant living as a sack of leaves on the floor, insignificant, until it finally overheated and died.

Master Vargas did not promise death, did not play the harbinger for it, not like he once had. Still, the terror remained, against all odds, thriving in this desert air. Other dangers lurked in 'disappointment', dangers such as demotion, or the breaking of their link, the prevention-- Khavur needed water. Khavur needed to scream. Khavur needed to pull in the reins. It thought; it waited, it listened. When the tirade was over -- (over! just like that! as if nothing had transpired, not even for a second!) -- it thought some more, waiting for the heat to roll off its back in waves, for the steam to rise and falter away...

It didn't.

Shame burns like any other piece of dry wood. In large amounts, it blazes like a living forest. All things caught within that shame were crystallized, caught in the amber, the air that wavered in the high temperatures. Memories were not permitted to leave. And so, Khavur could not forget this. Even as memories and words choked and coughed under heaps of ashes in its mind, the beast kept on breathing. The Reaver tried to think.

A withered, paltry voice would rise... "Ih- it-"

Khavur would clear its throat, stamp out the mess. Pathetic. Try again. "It was not a threat, sir." But Khavur's eyes couldn't withstand the Master's face, and thus they drifted, and Khavur's voice withered again: "...I apologize for it sounding as such..."

But never mind this, it moved on quickly. "M-y fluctuations, yes. They..." Now was not the time. Evidently, there may never be a time. If Overseer Cain hadn't seen to it, then no one would. "Th-they are nothing. Not bothersome... nothing I- no- not relevant." A beat. Khavur would strain its eyes to keep them on Master Vargas for longer than a second. It figured Master Vargas wouldn't let it go with that, so... a quick breath before: "Just... I sometimes feel... a little chaotic. Perhaps Draconua's influence." Was that an excuse he would accept? Sure, it sounded plausible to Khavur.

A quick touch of the link. Maximus had probably felt most of what Khavur had felt while Master Vargas spoke; Khavur hadn't tried to stop it after a while. "Is it... what is it that you want, Ch- Maximus? Another trial? Shall I send you...?"

The reply came, longer and more thoughtful than Khavur had expected. Maximus felt panicked, sullen -- entirely understandable. The further they went, the more fire and agony Khavur had to swallow. It knew Maximus's suffering, and Master Vargas's obliviousness, willful or not, and how they only fed each other like immortal wolves caught in a chase, moons swallowing suns and vice versa, a snake eating its own tail. The common thread was hunger. Agony starved of its ending until circumstances changed. If all they were doing by braving this path of resentment and rebellion was stuffing themselves further down the gullet of Master Vargas's beast, the Chaos Forge, then perhaps it was time to try a new tactic. Perhaps it was time to climb up.

Carefully, Khavur would temper its mettle, and direct the blade away from its beloved sibling. "I know... I know your pain. It is mine as much as it is yours." They were both failures from one perspective, more so than any of their siblings. This was their work, their lifelong trial; to flourish on barren land. "We must talk in private. I have a plan... I believe we can become more than just useful, Maximus. But first, you must talk to him, and I must finish with... this. I am going to tell him you may have forgotten to report, and I will send you if that is the case." And that's exactly what Khavur would do. "...I will send Chaos-Two to you if i-t has forgotten," That was enough stuttering and dithering. "and I will have faith in your plans." Khavur felt nauseous, trying to bite back the bile it would rather have erupt from its throat. 'Faith.' Finally, a thought. 'As if you know what I believe, where my loyalties, lie, anything about me.' Finally, a thought Khavur could actually think without feeling the sting of hypocrisy.

"He wants to see your 'innovation and stubbornness'. He will address your so-called 'problems' at the next meeting. ...Be ready." This was essentially a 'talk to you later', as Khavur, after noting Maximus's remark of anticipation and gratitude, would focus their attention entirely on Master Vargas again.

@Vargas (I'm sorry if not everything was addressed in this post, it was just getting so meaty--)

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The words Khavur spoke were the proper ones, even if they did not match some inner thoughts, even if it didn't explain what it had meant. Vargas could not see a way they had not been a threat--unless they were a genuine warning of its lack of control-?

"Forgiven," he boomed bluntly, without emotion, but his mind was on Khavur's actual words.

These, combined with its dismissal of its "feeling a bit chaotic," had his attention sharpen. He exhaled softly. "Send it, then," he went on bluntly, in regards to Chaos-Two--and that was that, then. Would it grasp that he was not the villain Chaos-Two would, in its own mind, paint him to be-? He was not the antagonist standing between it and what it wanted.

Chaos-Two was that person.

Vargas was just doing his damn job, and he thought he was being fairly reasonable about it, too. Which brought him--rather wearily--onto this next topic, but it was one that, it seemed, needed addressing.

"Hmm. You were created a Chaos beast. There are options, if you wish it; I will be opening the Arena for combat again soon if you wish to take part. It could be a way to let off steam and showcase your design, as well--but the rules for the first match, at least as we plan it, will likely be no magic. If you can control that, you could try your hand and see if it helps you. But I have a suspicion, as late."

Ahh, time for an admission. He never liked these. Not just that he'd perhaps made a terrible mistake, no: but that his terrible mistake may have cost several of his children their well-being. His-... Spawn. Creations.

Whatever.

"I suspect that in my... newness, when I created my spawn, I failed at one thing. I focused terribly hard on the physical--your shapes, your forms--bodies, abilities. And in the process I did not consider that your personalities might need moulding, as well. That your minds might struggle... To use a metaphor, like water in a jug, except the jug has no shape, and this water--your very essence, your minds--sloshes around and cannot find a form. Ironically, Chaos-Two has perhaps the least evidence of this--granted, its personality has changed drastically, but it is a fairly strong one. But you and Orthoclase-Alpha," he went on--and then had a sudden realization.

They must all think I killed it. What other possibility was there-? It had shown weakness, he'd sent it away, it had never come back. He had tracked it down immediately, too--found it at rest in Pegasus. Was this why Khavur's words stammered, some? Why Chaos-Two looked at him with new resentment? He studied Khavur for a moment. "In case it is in question, I did not kill Orthoclase-Alpha. I am still looking for it--I am concerned for its well-being and if any of you see it, inform me. But its mind shattered easily, and if you find yours is faltering, do not feel the need to hide that. I suspect that I could reform you--as I did with Chaos-Two--if it causes you a great deal of... discomfort." How else did one describe not having a cohesive personality-? Having thoughts and feelings of pure jolting chaos, from one moment to the next? It couldn't be simply a normal, natural thing (no, of course not; Vargas had no frame of reference for these feelings)--so it must be a failure on his part.

"It would not, I think, erase who you are but it might provide... stability. If you seek it. But if you prefer, perhaps we can find other ways. I urge you not to ignore it, Khavur. I made this mistake with the Orthoclase, and it only grew worse."

Now the subject was in Khavur's clawed hands. Would it dismiss his concerns a second time? Agree to them? Elaborate on what it had been feeling? He did not know, but he chose to lay out a little more: "If I am right, any suffering inflicted on you--my spawn, all of you--which seems to have no external source, may be the fault of my own mistake. I apologize for that and I wish to rectify it. Speak to me of it more if you wish but--if you do not--bear it in mind. My only warning is not to let it get too far."

Ahh, if only he'd known that Khavur had already struck out, lashed into, others of the Forge-!

Well, the topic had shifted, now. Chaos-Two, at least, seemed... resolved; he had some inkling of how to proceed. And hopefully the ex-babysitter would come to him, then, of its own accord with something resembling contrition and an idea on how it wished to move forward. Now the second issue--Khavur's mind--minds?--presented itself (themselves?), and he settled in in case the two-headed beast wished to pursue it further.

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Cue the most awkward acceptance of an apology known to the caves. Truly Master Vargas was the epitome of dense, a walking oblivion that bent all the light in the room to create the world he desired to see. A world he thought was imperfect, worth improving, worth protecting, and he its valiant, unsung hero, just doing his job. That was the glamour.

And yet, somehow, snippets of reality must've made it through to his delusional brain, and stuck. Snippets Khavur didn't know it... didn't know if it wanted to--

"Send it, then." Khavur would curtly nod its ram-horned head. Maximus already knew. Past the threshold of the tirade lay... yet another tirade, who would've guessed-- but at least things seemed to be spinning back into orbit. They... seemed to be...? Wait, no, these skies were still unfamiliar, wait--

Master Vargas offered participation in an Arena, sans magic, which made Khavur's heart flair with an unexpected amount of gusto. It was almost enough to revive this weed, shriveled and burnt to a crisp under the weight of what had just happened. How could a scene shift so swiftly--?

It shifted again. Yes, Khavur was designed to be a chaos beast, and yes, Master Vargas had failed. Khavur was a little... no, it was just stunned at the confession. Stunned at the fact that it existed, the honesty of it, the brutality of that honesty, and the audacity of it as well. Yet again, the age old question stirred, the mathematical equation with more than one answer, with opposing answers; Khavur was a failure, Khavur was adaptable, Khavur was something new, something out of Master Vargas's control and yet shaped by him, before and after creation; Khavur was the Reaver, the Holder, of Dark Aboves and Butterflies; a loser, a champion-to-be, not fit for this existence, perfectly suited to this universe--

Every inch of it resurfaced, the heaping swell on Khavur's skin -- so many questions it dared not ask, wholly out of fear, because Master Vargas was the Master, the Leviathan, Oblivion, and Khavur... Khavur was Khavur. That was the only equation that reigned true, even after all this time of searching. The only difference between then and now was that Khavur was making its peace with that.

So what did Master Vargas have to say about it?

He compared it to Orthoclase-Alpha. Khavur had to stop itself from flinching. That name was a foul thorn in the side of everyone in the Chaos Forge. The name that had left; not escaped, not betrayed, but simply left, and... they only had their guesses as to why.

Master Vargas was searching for it still. Khavur would nod at the order to report any findings, but truly, Khavur did not know if... that would be possible. The Overseer (Ex-Overseer? No--) had trained it, yes, but not for very long... if Orthoclase-Alpha was deliberately hiding somewhere out there, Khavur doubted it had the skill or the knowledge to compete with that training...

But, never mind that for now, the Overseer was only a piece of Master Vargas's bigger puzzle. He offered... reformation. In case it caused discomfort. It was a shocking amount of reflection and emotional intelligence coming from Master Vargas, and yet it still rang with a gleam of obliviousness. Perhaps Khavur was like Orthoclase-Alpha; perhaps the whole nest was. Made of 'problems' Master Vargas was not equipped to fix. He built monsters. They weren't... Maximus wasn't...

But Khavur-

Khavur could not be like Overseer Orthoclase-Alpha. Khavur could not be a duplicate. Khavur also highly doubted it could be... 'stable', so to speak, but it could try. It could... pretend. Wrap shadows around itself as the labradorite did, as Master Vargas did, to fit into his world. Well... no, more like just... to cover the parts that didn't. Whether or not any of them understood it, Chaos was embedded in Khavur, in all its glory, and nothing could be done to stop or change or reform that. It was the basis of Khavur's survival; its stone. But Chaos, to Khavur, seemed to mean something different from what it meant to Master Vargas. Was that true...?

Khavur had to find out. In order to do that, Khavur couldn't leave. Even if some part of it was illusion, the Reaver of the Dark Above had to take the role of a devoted beast, a Chaos beast, and run with it. Drag that humanity in the shadows and bury it; now was not the time. It was not Overseer Orthoclase-Alpha.

Perhaps it was the anger that Khavur simply could not let go of that made it so unwilling to admit where Master Vargas was right.

Anyhow, let's begin.

"I... will not let it get out of hand, Master Vargas." Not again. "P-art of my mission in going on my trip was to understand my mind better in a setting with less... influence." That was a good term for it. "I appreciate your... your apology, sir. Whatever effect the ci-rcumstances of my creation have had on my mind, I have been working to understand them for myself. To understand them fully..." What they meant, how to work around them, work with them even. But Khavur couldn't present its flaws to Master Vargas as if they were (potentially) features, could it? No, not after he already apologized for them. ...and I have made progress."

Khavur stood up straight, tall. Pricked up its withered leaves so they looked just about normal again. "Do not worry about my mental state. I will find my balance." It wasn't a promise Khavur had made for Master Vargas, but the Reaver could show it to him-- give it to him, even; like a gift wrapped up in a bow. The gift of reassurance. Khavur would be no such Orthoclase-Alpha. It was on a different path.

One more reassurance, though; this one made just for him: "However... if I do require assistance in the process, I will come to you."

Two heads would lock their gazes unerringly on Master Vargas, waiting once again for him to introduce a new topic, or take what was given and drop this altogether.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Again, its words were the right ones--reassurance that it was doing well, yes, but also that it would come to him if it needed aid. An admonishment he'd been about to add, a promise, a warning: that he would be there, that he should be consulted, if ever it got out of hand.

The result was a stern nod. "Good," he said simply, oblivious to the nuances in Khavur's mind, to the mockery and admiration, to the doubt and the surprise. Oblivious, too, to its mercurial opinion of him.

Vargas debated, for a moment. "I realize too that your position in the Forge is somewhat... nebulous! We will need to solidify that. Consider what rank you wish to strive for. The goals you would obtain, the role you would declare your own. When I call a meeting I will ask this of most of our members. And if you think," he added, studying Khavur thoughtfully, "of anything that might help Chaos-Two, past what we have discussed, come to me."

He shifted in place, and considered again. "That is all," he decided; "is there anything else you would address before I go back to my work?"

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Khavur was... pleased. Master Vargas seemed pleased. Consider this weed saved and nourished. All it had to do was reassess: it could not speak its heart, or the extent of its mind, it could not trust Master Vargas with either of those things. But as long as it kept that in mind... as long as it existed within the walls Master Vargas's domain, it could survive here. Forge roots, build strength. And survive it would do, until...

Now the weed was to be given a job -- a role! Khavur startled at the welling of happiness that gave its heart; it covered that heart with cloth and seized it in a clamp for good measure. There was far too much anger morphing into sharp focus in its mind to address... that.

There would be a meeting and, if Khavur could help Chaos-Two beyond [something that disappointed Master Vargas], it could pitch that. This was not bad footing. This was steady -- Khavur could climb, could grow from here. "Thank you, Master Vargas." A curt nod to accompany the gratitude.

Now Khavur was dismissed and it turned away to go -- but just then it remembered something and turned back. "I... recall traveling through a few of the caves, but I did not understand some parts of them. There was a tower in Orion, many, many bones in Canis, and... the tunnel between those two... a strange place. There might be oddities in every cave and tunnel, and I wish I knew... why. Did they have a purpose?" What Khavur had remembered was Master Vargas offering to teach it about the caves, but Khavur didn't want to take a risk by bringing up past promises. Instead, again, it would focus on the future: It was highly unlikely that Master Vargas and his kind would just let these caves exist without having a function. Each special characteristic felt like a hint... but Khavur couldn't fit the puzzle pieces together. The box didn't come with all of them intact. The information might be useful later. Or soon.

@Vargas