Maximus was struggling, every inch of skin on fire. If not with pain, than with the horrible feeling of dread one felt before their death. A feeling they'd long since come to terms with... and one the voices within tried to use against them.

"I am... struggling to remain of sound mind," they finally said, each word a struggle, "I am corrupted and I can't... I can't think. I don't know if anything I am doing is my own choice anymore."

Draconua's words were like knives in their chest, threatening to execute them herself. Their old designation burned like fire in their chest, a name they'd very badly wanted to leave behind, to create a new life with this new one, a new beginning. And she took it and smashed it into their face like an insult.

"I am... willing to shake hands, or to take the blame," they mumbled, "I originally wished to ask someone to help me with this. You, I think, Master Vargas, but I went here, instead. And I prodded at a sleeping bear and paid the price. It was near-suicidal."

Why did they ask her of all people? They didn't know. If they were very lucky, Vargas would have mercy on them and do something about their predicament.

After a moment, they sniffed, though there were no tears to follow, their eyes dry, "I am not myself. I don't know how to stop this, or if I am doomed to this fate."

Maximus wasn't a creature of Chaos. They were a healer, a soft, kind soul who just wanted to do good. To survive and to help others do the same. A corrupted Maximus was a creature they simply could not comprehend.

"... I'm sorry I broke your rules, that I was weak, that I slandered your authority in front of the Hand herself, and I'm sorry that I antagonized Draconua," they said, "Please forgive me, Master. I won't do it ever again. A-and you, Draconua. I am sorry."

And then they were quiet, still. Not dead, but waiting. This was the Endgame, now.

’... Weak.’

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Corrupted?
Ahh. Touched by the Creator's magic. -How the hell had that happened? Vargas supposed they could discuss that later.

"Tempting," he told Draconua, "particularly if it is true that you gave it fair warning. But if you are going to kill it be sure to at least use the name that it has earned." Murder was less important, apparently. Well, fair warning and all that. "I make you a promise; if I decide it needs to die, I will summon you and give you that pleasure. Meanwhile, as it is taking the blame, I will deal with this myself. Maximus--are you listening?--you have a choice: embrace the Creator's magic, bathe in it and learn control of His vast power, or follow me out into the tunnel beyond the Door of Life. Then return to your stone and purge His influence, for now."

His tone was matter-of-fact, businesslike, and Vargas felt little more than faint amusement and annoyance (twinned) at the situation. The idiot had indeed poked a sleeping beast, though far worse than any bear, and Vargas glanced at Draconua again. "I admire your restraint in not killing it. I doubt I would have had the same, in your place. Well done."

It was honest praise, if half-indifferent--he'd have fully expected her to simply slaughter his wayward spawn.

Then he stepped back, away, gesturing for Maximus to move--would it even see him from its place plastered to the floor? "Move, and make your choice. You can choose to embrace a fate as a creature of power and survival, able to actually defend those you care for--or continue to be the soft and sniffling beast whose shoes you have apparently somehow stumbled into."

Vargas didn't particularly care which it was. He hadn't made spawn for them to be crying emotional wrecks and he sure as hell didn't know how Maximus had ended up that way. It was the same story with the Orthoclase. At least Maximus was taking responsibility, in this case; he found it hard to actually be angry.

"Whichever you choose, get out of Draconua's way--and stay out of it." These words came a little harsher.

@Draconua

V-Chaos-Two should be honored to host even a shred of His influence and to not have perished on the spot; but, that was a worn-out sentiment, and Draconua had long grown past the fire-bright fury of realizing such a thing. The smoldering embers of her anger were blatant in the curl of a lip, the continued snarl on her face.

For once, the Valkhound kept her bear trap of a mouth shut.

Except when an apology was uttered. Simpering nothings in the face of punishment well-deserved. Were it not for Vargas's chokehold on her continued existence in this nest—doing what she thought the Creator had designated for her—the Sleepless Chaos could have done so much worse. Oh, the fun she could've had if the lamb not bleated for the shepherd.

Draconua snarled in the vague direction of the Master's compliment, baleful and crackling with electricity sparking along her flanks. Muscles seizing and forcing a wheeze from her, the monstrous beast ground out. "Has it earned even the right to beg for forgiveness?" And in her opinion? "No," and she paused to glare at Maximus, sniffling and kneeling, "I care not for 'I'm sorry.' Do not waste your breath on it."

She lurched forward, hissing lowly. "Denying His might or not, " she tilted her head, laughing bitterly, "you'll find yourself further than deserving of death the next time you piss me off." That time, too, she'd make it quick enough so that daddy couldn't come to defuse a ticking time bomb.

A mangled, choked sort of giggle—laced with a hyena's frustration—bubbled from her throat as she spun on a heel to slink into her den. Oil dappled the ground in her wake. There was the rumble of stone pushing up to cover the opening and leave her in damp, dark confines.

Apologies for the late post! Exit Draconua (unless stopped!)
@Maximus

Maximus dragged themselves up just enough to get onto all fours, a stance that looked just a bit too awkward to be natural. They reached out and grabbed their spear, dragging it along and walking on their fist in order to hold it and bear their weight at the same time.

"'M listenin'," they slurred, "'M.. I'm goin'."

Their mouth was bleeding, ichor dripping off their limp tongue as it hung from their mouth, the piece of muscle so knotted with scars and scabbed mounds that it barely looked like one anymore. It was a bitter but familiar tang, and though normally they'd have spat to be rid of it, everything they had was going into dragging themselves across the whole of Draco in order to get the Hell away.

'Thank you oh-so-much for the show of support, master Vargas. I definitely feel safe around you, like in my moments of need I can rely on you to be there for me,’ they thought, each word dripping with cold, bitter sarcasm.

As they limped forward they felt tears welling up, and quickened their pace in an attempt to flee before Vargas saw them drip down their face. Praising Draconua, of course, because she deserved all his praise for being a despicable, horrible creature made to be violent and selfish. Because Vargas wanted monsters and Maximus fell so short they'd barely even jumped at all.

And now Draconua would be the one to kill them, eventually. Every time they'd look at her they'd see their death before them and how cruel was that? Why would Vargas do that? Because he was cruel, heartless, and Maximus couldn't count on him for anything. Did he really mean it when he told everyone to tell him if something was wrong?

With everything whirling around in their mind like a tempest, they managed to start the trek to the tunnel, their pain a dull throb in the back of their head.

’What's wrong with soft?’, they finally asked privately, this thought small and barely there, insecure.

That one lingered as they limped away, wishing that they could have been one of the few to hatch in a field with a kind face waiting for them to welcome them into soft, gentle arms. A different life where happiness could have been achieved, maybe.

@Vargas
exit maximus unless stopped

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"I said to follow me," Vargas said, bluntly, pushing in front. They weren't snarled words, because he could forgive Maximus its confusion in the face of corruption. But--"I don't think your wounds are enough to return you to your stone on their own. There is something else I want to say to you, on the way and out of her earshot."

He strode along, heading for the Aperture, ensuring that he didn't move so fast that Maximus fell behind. "You are a selfish creature and I have no use for you. I want you to consider leaving a spawn behind to replace you, and then leaving Draco, the Forge, and getting out of the way of our work, never to be seen by any of us again. Not now; your corruption, right now, will not leave you thinking straight. But let me know once you have awoken."

Soon enough they would be in the tunnel; and then the spawn would be in its gemstone for awhile, and out of his quills for a couple of weeks. Wouldn't that be a sigh of relief?

@Maximus

Maximus' quills raised in anger. They were selfish? They, who were trying their very best for the sole purpose of trying to make the Forge better for everyone? To be able to see Khavur and act out their very unselfish plan?

’Hypocrite,’ they thought bitterly, dragging themselves along behind Vargas with the same obedience they'd had since the beginning.

This was a situation they had no say in. Corruption had run rampant, their emotions having been taken advantage of, and the only thing Vargas had to say was 'go away.' Was that his solution to everyone who he couldn't bother to deal with? A wonder the nest was running at all.

A darker part of them wondered if perhaps this might breed a new kind of disobedience. Because why should anyone feel loyal to him if he didn't actually care for their wellbeing? Would this even cause rebellion?

As they reached the tunnel they realized what Vargas was going to do and shivered, glancing at him nervously.

"... Please don' touch me," they said, their tongue heavy in their mouth, "I can... I can do it m'self."

They didn't trust him anymore. What if he just straight up killed them?

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas waited, patient as always.

It said something about Maximus that it did not see the gifts that it was given; it only saw perceived hostility. It said many things that they did not see Vargas as the one who had spared them, reformed them to remove their pain, given them chance after chance and his own protection. No; Maximus saw, and would only ever see, a villain in their own, unimportant little story.

It had latched onto its strongest sibling--did it think others did not see this?--and fawned over it, cultivating a protector from poor Khavur. Never had it spent time with the rest of the Forge, outside of its own duties--and yet it styled itself a mender, a helper, a kind soul. It had forged no other bonds outside the stupid rabbit, which Vargas assumed it had forced, through magic--ahh, but if he'd known how it only had wanted to be free? To rejoin its own kind? That Maximus had forged a pen to hold it? He would have laughed. It would not have been unexpected.

It had seen itself as abused, though Vargas had never laid a hand on it. Mocked, though he'd never said a foul word to it, nor even a laugh in its direction. He was sick of it being around, in truth--sick of worrying about what to do, about rebellion breeding in its foolish little heart.

He had given it its vision back, but it had only grown more blind.

At least, this was his opinion on it. When it came right down to it, Vargas simply didn't like little Maximus anymore.

And the gall for it to think he would kill it? If he were going to kill it he'd do so, whether it wanted him to "touch it" or not. He certainly wouldn't use the excuse of a chrysalis--but it knew that, didn't it? It just wanted to think the worst of him, regardless of his true actions.

"I will wait," was all he said, tone exhibiting nothing but patience, and he hoped--fervently--that it would take him up on his offer.

@Maximus

Vargas, in Maximus' eyes, had failed in many ways. Sure he'd given them a new form and taught them to fight, but at the same time he'd neglected to nurture their mental state, leaving them to slowly fall apart at the seams. They'd have much rather have been left blind and crippled if it meant that they didn't have to see the true horrors that was Vargas and the child army he was building.

Did he know that he'd brought the rabbit all the way back to its home before they bonded to it? That they let the rabbit be a rabbit and let it decide if it wanted to have anything to do with Maximus? That they'd latched onto Khavur not for safety but as a genuine sibling relationship forged in a field of flowers and butterflies? No. No he didn't and he could never know the turmoil that raged within because all he cared about was if his creations had enough teeth.

Vargas was a monster. Had always been and would continue to be so.

Maximus finally reached the Aperture. They staggered past the tunnel entrance and then a bit further before lowering themselves down, panting with the effort it took to get here. They wondered if they could do it, if they could tear out their throat or wrists enough to bleed out and chrysalize, or if the pain would be too great.

Claws were raised up to their neck, brushing against bloody wounds and soft fur. They hovered there, applying more and more pressure until it began to hurt, but they couldn't press any harder. But they couldn't go any further, couldn't hurt themselves anymore than they had been already.

"I can't...", they mumbled, but they still moved away, shaking as they dreaded Vargas' hand descending upon them, claws rending their throat or smashing their head hard enough to knock them out.

They didn't want him to touch them, to look at them, to be near them. They would much rather bleed out from their current wounds than let him an inch closer than he already was.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas peered at Maximus with some bewilderment. "Was it so terrible the first time?" he asked, genuine confusion in him.

Gone, for now, were his thoughts of its weakness; had he known it was considering "mental states" he would have laughed in its face. Or the rabbit; apparently it had ignored the truth of that little matter, too, once again only seeing what it wanted to, and none of that would've surprised the Leviathan in the slightest. Right now, he was wondering if it had forgotten that he had done this before.

And that he had made it quick, and painless.

But no--it wouldn't, would it? It didn't actually matter what Vargas did, or what he said; he would always be a monster to it. He was, of course, a monster, and one with no regrets.

But not for the reasons this fool thought he was.

He thought to reach for its blood, to knock it out easily enough by simply stopping the flow to its head--it'd simply pass out, without him going near it. Of course nothing happened, and he looked away, and back again.

Vargas had places to be, and Maximus had wasted too much of his time already--today, and every damn day it had been here. All the time he'd put into it, and it had always been destined to simply cause trouble, and--most likely--eventually run away, or rebel, or something idiotic. Why it'd stayed as long as it had, he would never know.

It hadn't ever belonged here.

@Maximus

Maximus shook their head lightly and let their head fall onto the hard ground, eyes drooping. They were so tired...

"I'm scared of you," they said, "Terrified. I don' want you to touch me because th' very idea scares me. An' I hurt. A lot. And you don' care and I don' want you to touch me."

"I jus' wanted you to be proud o' me."

As their eyes slipped shut and the pool of blood beneath them started to spread, their chrysalis began to form around them finally, granting them mercy. For a couple weeks they'd be thoughtless, no dreams, no fears, no nothing. A needed break from all that plagued them. And Vargas didn't need to lay a hand on them.

As their thoughts drifted into silence, they wondered if the Master even felt a little bit of pain for his little creation. Laying on the floor in their own blood finally speaking their greatest desire out loud. Probably not.

@Vargas
exit?