The messenger had finally awoken.

The unassuming chrysalis looked like every gembound stone. Bright, glittery, the colors most likely the only reason Aethril hadn't shattered it when she'd held it in between her fingers. But what lay within wasn't unassuming at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, as the stone cracked and shuddered before exploding outwards with a horrific shriek.

Kethri would have been proud to turn into this monstrosity. Vargas had done well, and though this new creation was unfortunately a rather obvious bright purple, everything else would have been something for Kethri to drool over.

Sharp, deadly talons tipped each toe, four in total with two in the front and two in the back. Silent wings with gorgeous barred markings sat on its shoulders, spread out as it staggered out of its prison. Even better were the horns atop its head and the eye in the back of its head (though Kethri would have wondered what it was for, seeing as she could swivel her head around anyway and so could this being). A bright, horrific smile spread across its face, eyes and maw glowing a toxic green in the dim of the tunnel as it shook itself out, sending fluid flying every which way.

All in all, it was exactly as Vargas intended, though down still clung to its frame, adult plumage yet to allow it the gift of flight just yet, with the fluffy feathers giving it a strange, plush appearance. Another shriek left its mouth as it took a step forward and stumbled, falling onto its chest with a cry, unused to walking quite yet. It flapped furiously to try and right itself, broad wings kicking up dust and loose debris.

The owlette huddled down where it sat, panting softly from the exertion of hatching, jaws clicking like a beak would as it observed its surroundings, feathers fluffed up for warmth and making it look like a pillow rather than a Vargasian creation.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Ahh, a moist owlette.

The cries had drawn him quickly enough, his stride tearing him along the rock with the scrape of claws on stone. He was eager to see this one. He had a real need of messengers: any time he wanted to send someone to find something, or find someone, he found himself at a loss. Garnet-De--no, he reminded himself, Overseer Cain, was suited for it, but their responsibilities lay elsewhere. And were important, too.

So hopefully--in summary--this creature would find a lot of use, and perform it well.

The shrieks and crack of stone had been hint enough (it wasn't like he'd been doing much else just then), and he approached with interest. "Ahhh... there we are," he rumbled, sweeping up on the small, downy pile of magenta.

He came to a halt, peering down at it. Now, normally, this would be where he'd give them their name, address them, ask if they understood him. But he realized, as he opened his mouth, that "V-Carmeltazite-One" was kind of a mouthful.

Think fast, Master Vargas, he thought to himself wryly. This was probably something he should have considered before he was staring down at the pile of pink-purple fluff, but honestly, he always sort of assumed that everything would fall neatly into the rigid roles that he'd provided. "Carmeltazite?" That did not.

Ehh, screw it. "V-Carmeltazite-One. You will be known as Messenger, for now. You have been created to serve me, in the Chaos Forge, in the travel and delivery of messages. Do you understand?" he asked. He was eager to get started with this one--and it looked just like he'd intended, with toxic eyes and twisted horns.

Although, after the Deathmatch-? It is almost a mockery, he thought, and a cold thread laced through his acid veins. He tried not to think about that.

@Cheshire

Messenger, as they were now dubbed, wasn't scared of Master Vargas. If Kethri had been fearless then this new creation was even more so. They were simply curious as they stared up at him, their understanding limited to their five senses and little else. Language was beyond their reach, Vargas' words little more than gibberish they could just barely understand as some kind of communication they couldn't comprehend.

In lieu of an answer, they just blinked owlishly (har har), their features mostly hidden within the blob of feathers they'd become. After a moment they noticed he was waiting, their little brain ticking away to figure out what he wanted (because it was obvious by his stare that he was expecting something from them) before coming upon a reasonable answer.

”... WHO!”, they hooted, less of an actual, formulated question or even a word. Owls went 'who' (or 'hoot' if you're boring) after all, so it was really impossible to tell if they were speaking or just vocalizing.

Messenger looked up at the Master expectantly, hoping that's what he wanted. Words would come in due time, for they'd retained Kethri's intelligence perfectly judging by how their eyes darting along his different features (teeth, eyes, clawed hands, etc), taking it all in. They were curious and they wanted to understand.

So again they cried, ”Who-WHOO!”

Though this time it was joined by an enthusiastic flapping of fuchsia wings, though the action unfortunately sent them off balance and toppling over again. Embarrassed they struggled to right themselves, uncooperative limbs flailing every direction aside from the one they wanted. Up.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Well, it seems eager, if not highly intelligent, Vargas thought--but language might come later, he knew. That was fine. He watched as it splatted, and none of the previous glances or darting observations were lost on him. Well, most weren't--admittedly it was somewhat hard to follow something's gaze when its eyes were glowing.

Still, when its broad maw parted to WHO? at him, he was pleased: a terrifying visage, to say the least. He liked it.

One massive arm was offered down, as a person might offer fingers to a bird; he attempted to give Cheshire some grip on his hand. "Come," he told it; "we will find you something to eat. I am Master Vargas," he went on, pointing to himself with his other hand (rocking back on his haunches to do so), "and we will begin by showing you Draco, yes?"

Once again, he was glad that Aethril had given him back this stone: its design had been... inspired, and he thought that it might turn out just fine.

@Cheshire

A softer hoot left their mouth as the Messenger grabbed one of Vargas' fingers in their mouth and used it to push themselves up. They shook their feathers out and peered up at him, eyes narrowing just slightly.

”... Ff... Fffar... Vargasss...”, they hissed out, sounding out the words until they matched the Leviathan's words, ”Maaasssster.”

The Messenger took a careful step forward, wings half-spread for balance as they slowly inched forward, cautious. They didn't want to fall over again but they weren't exactly meant for walking from place to place, their talons better for gripping, grabbing, and goring. One foot was stuck out and curled around Vargas' gargantuan finger-thumbs, the other lifting as they flapped wildly in order to step up without stumbling.

”Drrrraco?”, they trilled, throat feathers puffing out as they rolled the Rs, wondering what a 'Draco' was. Was it food? An object? Another person?

Their head swiveled around, third eye opening as they took in their surroundings, staring at their chrysalis with a tilted head.

”Who...?”, they whispered softly, peering up at Vargas for an answer, wondering what that strange thing was.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He was pleased, of course; it showed attentiveness, it was already learning, it was obedient. "Good," he answered, nodding to his single word of approval. He carried Cheshire along, glancing to its point of interest.

"That," he told them, "was your chrysalis. You, yours. You hatched from it; we all do. As for Draco?"

Long strides carried him toward the Womb. The Room That Lives. So aptly named. And he gave Cheshire a moment, too, to adjust to his words; one thing at a time. No sense in overwhelming the creature. "Draco is our home. The Creator's nexus of power in this cave." A pause, as Vargas realized that "nexus of power" might be a tad overcomplicated a concept for a new hatch. "It is the place we live in and work in. The place that we protect."

A nod was offered forward, and he kept at his same pace. He could take the Messenger to introduce to the others; meanwhile, on the way there, he'd try to explain to it what it might expect. "You will serve as our mouth," he said, glancing at it, pausing to reach his other hand up to gently tap at its maw with one front-facing thumb. Then he lurched back into motion. "You will be taught to move unseen and unheard, to listen, to learn. To carry our word and our authority through the caves." Perhaps a little overly complex, again, he realized. and huffed softly to himself. "We will teach you. You will grow."

At least, he hoped it would: as it stood, the pile of downy quills wouldn't make for a fantastic flyer. He had to hope that it would grow, yet.

@Cheshire

With their mouth closed they retained an expression of curiosity, their eyes wide and bright, not just because they were glowing. They'd yet to understand Vargas' words but they knew that the chrysalis was important somehow, or at least that there was something about it to be learned.

They found themselves frustrated, their own lack of understanding keeping making them annoyed. But they looked at Vargas instead, hanging onto every word even if they didn't know what they meant.

Ah! There!!

Vargas pointed to their toothy maw when he said mouth, and they snatched up that piece of information as they clicked their teeth twice. They understood! They knew what their mouth was, what a chrysalis was, and what a Master Vargas was. They shouldn't have been so excited over such trivial things but to a small owlette, it meant more than it would to a grown-up.

They were briefly distracted in the middle of their rapid-fire thoughts by contact, Vargas' finger having gotten closer than they'd realized. When it touched them they opened their sharp teeth and nibbled, not to harm at all, not even a gesture of affection. Just because that's how most babies learned, by putting stuff in their mouths.

Cheshire flapped awkwardly as the Master lurched back into motion, sent accidentally off-balance. They straightened again and climbed up the Master's arm, one step at a time before coming to rest on his shoulder instead, giving him back his arm.

”Authorrrrity,” they parroted, bobbing their head up and down with excitement, ”Whoo! We?”

Now that they'd figured out they had a voice and could mimic words, they could ask about them. The faster they learned what Vargas was saying the faster they could learn what he wanted from them.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas considered the child's question before responding--purely to ensure he understood what they were asking. "Who," and "we," together could mean a couple of things--was it asking who had authority, and questioning if it was the two of them? Or asking who "we" were, as a whole?

He himself was not frustrated in turn--such confusions were to be expected with a new hatch--but he did think about it before answering. "Our authority. We are the Chaos Forge. There are many of us, and you will meet more soon," he went on, noting the child's movement as it maneuvered higher up his arm. He kept note of it; he did not normally like things at his neck or near it, but it was unlikely to be able to do much damage so young. And anyway, it was easier to travel, this way. "Your world will be one of caves, the caves that we all live in. These caves serve as a nest for the Creator's soldiers: we create them, train them, and unleash them in His name." Too much--or too little? It seemed to gain more by practical learning, and so Vargas decided then and there to get to work.

"But first, we must teach you basic things. Rock," he began, and pointed out at a random rock, and then another; patterns helped, in teaching. "Ground. Crystal." (He pointed at a shard of gemstone lying abandoned on the 'road'side.) "Claw." Pointing to his claw, and then to Cheshire's own talon.

He went on that way for a few moments, listing things with patient ease: "Arm," and "teeth," and "tail, quill, eye."

Soon enough, it would be "entrance"--door, gate; Aperture. But they weren't quite there, yet.

@Cheshire

Cheshire listened intently, unblinking as they stared at the Master attentively. Not even once did they zone out or speak (though a few things nearly cause them to lose their intense focus, like a mouse running past), though the occasional coo left their mouth when Vargas said a word they knew.

We. Cave. We again.

When Vargas started to point and name things they perked up, immediately repeating his words back eagerly.

”Rrrock! Grround! Crrooo- crrystal!”

They body parts they tried to match to themselves, though they immediately found a problem with 'arm'. Theirs didn't look like Vargas', and as they lifted one wing to stare at it, looking between it and Vargas' massive limbs, they found themselves looking to him in confusion.

”Arrm?”, they trilled, keeping their wing held out, head tilted to one side.

Why were they different? What were their different features called? What were they?

A noise of frustration left them as they tried to vocalize their thoughts, though only gibberish left their mouth. Baby babble and nothing more. They fluffed up their feathers and shifted from foot to foot, face scrunched in an unhappy expression, eyes squinted in a glare and teeth snapping together. Communication couldn't come quick enough.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas suppressed a snort of amusement, managing to stifle it to a humorous exhale. "Wing," he advised, with a nod. It was catching on quickly, then--not only gaining vocabulary, but using critical thinking to compare. He was about to start in with the rest of its body parts--beginning with "beak"--when he realized that it had no beak. Of course it didn't; he'd designed it that way.

What else, then?

A touch to its feathers, that scraggly down, and: "Feathers."

He walked along, lopsided, as one hand was used for his gestures, his lessons.

"Talons. Eyes," and for this last he pointed first to Cheshire's, and then to each of his own. He'd need, he reasoned, to find it a reflection at some point; water, or crystal, so it could see just what it looked like.

"The Black Spire," Vargas offered, as they passed beneath the Aperture, and he gestured to the distant structure. Now there was a lesson worth learning. "Don't touch it. But we work near it. It is the Creator's power." Too much, he knew, for a young mind to grasp, but important to say it nonetheless.

@Cheshire