Oh, no.

As Draconua descended, Attikias's eyes trailed her, his hands glued to the wall. 'Come on,' he mentally begged, pacing along the wall. 'Hang on. Just let them chrysalize and be done with it.'

There would be no mercy from Draconua. He should have known this- those manacles were for her (or, so he imagined). Only she was cruel enough to guard the very center of Chaos in the caves, and it was she who became the executioner of these matches.

In the end, it was not the selenite's choking hands, but instead the mistress of destruction, consuming wholly the desired prey. His child had gotten out of the way- but Aspen? Aspen was gone. Attikias's heart leapt to his throat and choked him up, stopping him in his pacings as he turned to watch what his child would do.

They were crying. No. No- nonono. "Kid!" Instinct driving over him, Attikias shoved himself out past the wall and took one quick glance down, judging the distance. If he- no- thinking fast, he swung over the side and dangled over the edge, a whole height still left to go. Nothing left to do but jump- and he did, rolling as best as he could with a harsh sting to his legs.

His pain wasn't important. Right now, he was rushing to Selenite with his arms open, aiming to take a hold of them and ground them to the present. Please, Nemean. Please, give them some time to recover- give them time to get out of danger.

Barely, just barely, as he meant to hold Selenite close and prick himself with every needle on their body, he pleaded. "Just hold on. C'mon, let's get you out of here- c'mon, kid." If he could, he'd try to direct the kaijin away, to support them as they retreated back to the depths of the coliseum.

If they even moved at all.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas nodded idle agreement. "They are, though these are all..." (one clawed hand raised in wordless gesture) "untrained." So was Selenite, though, really.

...Selenite, who was now (Vargas could see) crying, crawling toward the bones. He glanced toward Nemean with some alarm; who knew what she would do if the Selenite overstayed its welcome in the ring? Likely another touch of Draconua to get it moving, he thought to himself, grimly. "Creator's claws," he muttered, an old oath; "I need to get it out of there before she kills it." Thus excused, he shoved up and made his way ringside.

It occurred to him that Draconua's intervention had mostly wound up with his own creatures' victories in these battles. Was that deliberate? Or accidental? He did not know, but for now he didn't slow--there was no sense in risking it--in leaping down into the arena with a plume of dust. And the jump wasn't that far, for him; not much farther than his own height, really, and he was crossing the dust with long strides before Attikias even registered in the corner of his eyes.

They reached Selenite at almost the same time--Attikias just before, so that Vargas saw the elf hasten into his line of sight (his own gaze had been locked upon the miserable slate-and-teal form). He hesitated--how terribly awkward; the elf's soft words just barely reached his hearing over Nemean's deafening crescendo.

Well, his options were to turn around and move back away, looking like an idiot, or to escort the pair, and he chose the latter for more reasons than one. And he fired a glance up toward Nemean's perch as he did so. "Come," he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear, his sudden and looming shape without menace for the moment; "move out of here before she chooses theatrics over common sense."

He reached for Selenite's other arm, glancing at the missing fingers on the one--and moved to escort it, too. If Attikias wasn't enough--if it didn't move on its own--he would do his best to get it out of here himself, to make sure it wasn't left out in the open, in the dust, at Nemean's mercy.

If Selenite didn't take Aspen's gemstone, he would take it in his other hand--not for himself, but to give to V-Selenite-One just inside the safer area backstage, simply so the prize wasn't left behind. And another mutter, added to this--this one soft with something like warning--"Remember, it chose to be here." It wasn't a threat, though--how could it be? It was over; Aspen was dead, gone. It was a warning against falling too far down a hole that some could not crawl out of. He did not know the Selenite well enough to gauge how it would recover, but he knew he'd need to watch it.

In the meantime-? He looked to Attikias. "I speak of the cat, mind you. I cannot remain below--I must watch the fights. Will you ensure it reaches a mender?" And look after its well-being, but this he didn't say.

@V-Selenite-One

Maximus had left as soon as Draconua had arrived (because any sign of Draconua meant bad things). They bolted, leaping over chairs and showing their athletic prowess as they raced to the rooms below, snatching up supplies before making their way to one of the entrances to the arena, peering out and watching.

The strange, small, furless creature had jumped down after Selenite, and was... caring for them? He seemed frantic.

They shifted the bundle of creepvine under their arm and held the cloth bandages they'd taken from the medical room in their hands, shifting from foot to foot anxiously as they saw Vargas. They certainly weren't on good terms right now...

"Master Vargas! Selenite!", they cried out anyway, holding up an arm, "This way!"

They were anxious. Selenite would be their first official 'patient', and of course it wasn't a scratch or bruise like they'd hoped to have dealt with for their first time, but they'd do good anyway. They recognized Attikias, finally, having seen him at the recent meeting. An ally of the Forge, then.

Not gonna tag cause vargas already did-

A figure blurred through its filmy periphery, unacknowledged despite just how sensitive it was to any sign of movement; until the point of contact had been made.

Initially, every part of its body froze—because no, no, no, not again, it'd just finished fighting—except for the lightning-quick withdrawl of its arms to grip its biceps. What remained of fingers did their level best, and the skull fell limply to its left side. Claws, still unsheathed, still choked with clumps of fur and skin, bit into the joints and fleshier undersides of its chitin. Keeping its hands rooted there.

It'd never felt terror such as this before. Quivering, vibrating as a total stranger enveloped it in— in a—

Ah, and there's another flash of memory. Talys wrapping his arms around it, slipping them between the two pairs it had. A warm embrace despite muffled complaints about being too cold to the touch or too pointy. Selenite itself returning the favor with a smile.

It missed its brother, and it missed its self-proclaimed sister, whisked away at her birth by the Lord.

Reservations forgotten in an instant. The Selenite's quills fell slack against its shoulders. It grappled for a hold on the elf's furs or belt or—anything, really, and clutched the fabric in tightly curled bloody fists. Forearms were slung haphazardly around his waist and shoulders. It spared only a passing glance into sparkling, cool eyes and night-dark flesh before burying its face in his chest with a dry sob.

Vargas was merely a shadow in the distance of its sphere of attention, and it barely mustered through quiet hiccups and gasping breaths a choice few words: "I-it di— he didn't choose to, to die." Even if he wouldn't surrender, wouldn't give up—it'd been so desperate.

But after all of that, it let itself be led to stand on wobbly legs, with its tail hanging limp against its legs and still clinging to Attikias, and to be led wherever either that stranger or its Master desired it to go.

exit selenite? unless further interactions of course
@Attikias

Maximus watched nervously, clutching their bundle tightly before approaching to help support Selenite. They wished they'd gotten Selenite's fingers, maybe with some magic they could have helped, but they had to focus on what was happening now and not what could have.

"This way," they said, "Let's get you healed up."

With that they lead the way, ears pinned in worry.

Exit

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Selenite's stammer earned it a puzzled, sidelong glance from Vargas.

"...It is called the Deathmatch," he pointed out, with some surprise. Did it-... Had it not realized that the word was literal?

He grunted and turned toward the call up ahead--ahh, Maximus; "This one is wounded." He glanced again to Attikias, granting him a nod, and then turned away; the two of them could ensure that Selenite was cared for.

Vargas, on the other hand, had to get back to work--and he did so, crossing the arena in a few long strides before bounding and scrambling back up into the stands.

exit
(was waiting for attikias but-)
@V-Selenite-One and @Maximus for visibility