Why this was the next step, Madhukar did not entirely know... or remember. Something here, as far as she could recollect from a distant shore of washed up memories, quote "made monsters". Something here reminded of her one thing, which reminded her of another thing, and another, and another, and it all led back here. To the place with green eyes. The green eyes that feared things. And to Tahi-shei's ghost, which lingered in thick in the air here. The scent and feel of corruption — She could go on, but it would make her spiral. It wasn't important, she wasn't ready to tumble down another staircase.

What was important, what was most about "making monsters" was the first part, not the second. Madhukar only knew of one way to create life in these caves, and if they did it consistently then perhaps... they could help her. She was powerful, yes, magically, but... well, she had thought enough about the other end. What if they just didn't want to — with someone like — I would have failed — I shouldn't try. Her thoughts sounded like a broken record being transmitted through an equally broken recorder, think: someone on a FaceTime call trying to hear a kid's impromptu piano recital when the Internet swings in and out at its leisure. The song is something classical, something complex, and grim. But you can barely make it out underneath all those layers of static. Anyways— Anyways, irrelevant, the point was that Madhukar wasn't ready for this, so the giant purple guy with familiar green eyes would have to do.

Perhaps they could take Twisted's stone and make her one of their monsters. She might have appreciated that (as long as that monster wasn't Draconua). Or maybe she wouldn't have appreciated that in any form, Madhukar didn't really know because Madhukar had avoided her and failed every opportunity to learn more. She really should have stopped to make another costume first— "M-ASTER VARGAS!"

She had now made it to the Aperture (which she didn't know was called 'the Aperture'). Her voice was hoarse, raspy, already in danger of snapping and breaking. Perhaps she should try magic as an introduction, save her vocal chords for when she really needed them. On yet another impulse, she attempted to correct the mistake she had already irrevocably made.

Thunder clattered against the walls, bashed the entrance like a battering ram, despite the lack of room. It hadn't been her intention. All too late, she realized how foolish she was being, how her thinking wasn't in order, and how there might already someone waiting outside of this entrance, standing sentinel. May their ears recover soon.

@Vargas (the Sentinel?) @Orthoclase-Alpha ( <— shh this one is secret )

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas was quite close by, as it happened, and the hoarse cry alone would've been enough to alert him. He had turned, opening his jaws to respond, when a crash of thunder shuddered the stone all around him. He jerked, despite himself, flinching from the unexpected and deafening sound.

He may, even, have sworn a little beneath his breath, something forbidden about nonexistent anatomy attached to the Creator.

Irritated (yet intrigued) he swept into a swift pace that would carry him toward the tunnel mouth. The Sentinel was hunting; even he had to eat, and Vargas was always certain to ensure he was nearby if the Sentinel was not. So it was the purple Leviathan himself who came into view, acid eyes picking apart the darkness for any sign of the one who had so shattered its grinding quiet.

For a moment, he was blank upon spotting the mutated cat: but then his memory (honed by centuries of such precise categorizations) dredged up a few details. Madhukar. Storm magic. Transcendent. He recalled, if vaguely, their introduction some cycles past in Draco; recalled making special note. Not very many had passed the mock-owl's trials.

"Madhukar, was it?" he greeted, with loudly aggressive cheer. His powerful strides came to a halt a couple Vargas-sized paces away, and he peered down, wondering what had brought her here. Order, most likely? he thought to himself; his only real encounters with her had been to see her ready to fight the node in Ursa. They'd all failed, but it was the effort that counted. Sort of.

Vargas was not the best at reading facial expressions, and cats were, perhaps, not the best at having them. Let alone whether Madhukar was even showing such things. Oblivious, then, to any inner turmoil, his businesslike tone marched on: "What brings you here?"

@Madhukar (or waitin' for alpha idk if it's awake i know nothing)

There he came. There he was. Green eyes gleaming, expression alien, unreadable. That color blazed in her mind, the shape of the face, the dramatic size difference, all too reminiscent of another. They must know each other. They had to.

Madhukar stared, for a moment, at the emerald gemstone almost embedding itself within her usable paw. Her desperate clutch only tightened with the waves of guilt and discomfort, the lack of belonging, the unfortunate latent thought: This one is bigger. Could I have killed him, too? Ballsy. Or shall I say, Creator's-nonexistent-anatomy-y. She wouldn't try it, of course. There was no reason to, and every reason not to.

He remembered her. Probably about as well as she remembered him, maybe even less. She had changed since they last met, as evidenced by her request to be made, but more visibly by the stinger on her tail and the lights on the sides of her torso whose light became clearer in this darkened corner of the world. She would only nod at the mention of her name, in affirmation. Once invited to explain, she would manage to speak: "I... g-got a stone..." Her grasp would relent, only enough so that she could hold it up for Master Vargas to see. "C-an't rev-ive it... mysel-f." Well, she could, but she shouldn't. The words were already out, however. She had no choice but to let them stay. "Need he-lp. Yours."

Madhukar hated talking. It always hurt, always felt sore, and she always had to be so slow. It gave the impression that her words were deliberate, and in some ways that was true, but Madhukar still lacked much of a social filter. All that time she spent silent or talking slowly was really a cover for the time spent in her head, compressing her tactless stream of consciousness so she could get the most meaning out of the least words. Madhukar shouldn't have to live in her head. Her head was old and haunted like a rotting pumpkin.

Wonder what Vargas's head was like. Genetically rather dominant, perhaps. Darker thoughts followed that — screw memories and their darkness. These were not the thoughts to be having about your host, as a guest. These weren't Madhukar's thoughts at all, or at least not the ones she wanted to have. Junk thoughts. It's hard to let them go.

It might be worth noting that her lights attempted to aid her message, but there was little they could do. They shifted to mellow hues of blue and pink, and nobody, not even Madhukar, understood their meaning. She looked Master Vargas in the eyes again, and attempted to seek out a message preemptively in his reaction like he could try to do with her. But they were aliens; might as well be faceless. She missed her mask. Maybe he, being some large, esteemed Master, knew where to get a new one.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Her speech was stammering, uncertain, and Vargas took this as a sign of intimidation in his own presence. This pleased him, inaccurate as it might have been; some (very large) part of him still felt that fear displayed before him was only right and proper. It was... respectful, in some way, he thought. It meant that Madhukar recognized the threat that he could pose, and his power.

With this completely misread conclusion tucked away, he assumed a somewhat magnanimous perspective, peering down indulgently at the little rock clutched in one hand. Emerald. Fungus, he thought--one of Astraea's. A Master's power to sense a stone's very essence was still a little strange to him, but... he was fairly sure he'd seen this one, somewhere. Where, he couldn't recall. Without a shape to tie it to, his memory couldn't pluck knowledge from the past. Ahh, well.

"You require it revived-? Whose was it, and why do you wish it given new life?" he asked, bluntly. He reached for it, clawed thumbs unfurling, though he didn't move to take it; it was just one of those universal "let me see that" gestures. "Why can you not revive it yourself? -Do you not know how?" he asked.

His questions, thus far, were patient. He'd never had anyone come to him with such a request before--perhaps Madhukar had already failed at trying to revive the thing, and feared doing so again. But he wanted a full set of answers before he advised the cat-like creature on its options.

He, himself, could not give it life right now; he was still recovering from his creations only a couple weeks before. And he would have normally refused such things outright, regardless, but... this one had tried, at least, to aid a cause that he had authorized (if not led) and he was trying to establish the Forge as something of a more welcoming locale.

Perhaps, he thought, if we create links to this creature via family, they will come here more often--and bring others, too. He wasn't sure he wanted that--he'd need to think it over, but it was an option that until now simply hadn't occurred to him.

@Madhukar

He was patient. Vivacious, generally, and not necessarily overdoing it on purpose. It was a big body with a lot of energy packed away inside. She honestly wasn't sure how he could help, if he could help, if she wanted him specifically to. She wasn't sure of him at all. But he didn't pry in any unexpected ways, so... that was nice. She felt a little like how she had felt when first meeting Tahi-shei: notably lacking in annoyance. She answered his questions without hesitation, answers matching order of the questions asked: "Yes. T- Twisted's. C- I could. Know h-ow, y- yeah..." But they never hatch.

She recognized the message behind the movement of his talons, but it failed to soothe her. She hesitated then, staring at the gemstone for a moment. He wouldn't do anything to it, he wasn't a nuisance. She hoped he wasn't a nuisance. He wasn't a nuisance she could beat. Or maybe he was? Maybe his skin would pop and crackle, the guarding plates falling off under the mad impulse, intense heat, sizzling lightning, just like his—

With those things that proved antithetical to her disposition, slowness and deliberation, Madhukar offered the emerald up to meet the waiting claws. Energy and weight shifted, churned, and sparked in Madhukar's gut. She stared flatly at him, however flat she could make her face look. He would be careful, or she would be the one getting her questions answered. (He didn't know that. Neither did she, really, and the gradual shift of her lights to sparkling neon orange wouldn't convince either of them.)

"Yours h-atch." It was, perhaps, hazardous to say this, hazardous to assume. "Mine..." Madhukar didn't want to finish. Already, despite herself, Madhukar's heart was begging this Master to understand, so that she wouldn't have to finish. Because the tightening in her jaw and the seizing of her chest wasn't just biological anymore, wasn't rational or functional, and she couldn't break here, not because of anybody or for anybody besides her own self. We all have our dignity to uphold. Loss of control, or loss of dignity — they came with a price. Maybe it could be for Twisted. Maybe Twisted could keep Madhukar from breaking by shutting her up.

She probably would've loved that.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Twisted. Now that sounded familiar. He couldn't at once place it, though he tried: he ran the memory back through his mind, searching for a body and a face to fit alongside the name.

But Madhukar was still speaking, and he paid careful attention, even as he took the little emerald in hand, turning it over against the glinting of Draco's violent light. Yours h-atch. Mine... Vargas glanced up from the stone, studying Madhukar briefly. "Don't," he finished, understanding. He offered the stone back out in one long arm, wholly unaware of the flat glare and the fear and threat that the cat-creature had been feeling. A brown and cream cat, he suddenly remembered, and blinked. The emerald had been in its forehead. It had been here, too, in the fight in Ursa: it had died, hadn't it?--in the Deathmatch. To Erebos, if I am not mistaken, he recalled. That one was training with the Forge, but it had left the stone behind, so perhaps this one had picked it up, afterward.

Hmm. Perhaps he could have demanded it, but he had no real need for it, and it was Erebos's own mistake to leave the stone behind.

"I remember this one." It had claimed to be good with claw and fang, and able to draw out fungus. Why had it joined the Deathmatch..? Such a small creature, expecting glory? The little ones never won. That being said... "It did not deserve its loss," he observed. Nemean had thrown something at it, caught it on fire. It hadn't been Erebos's kill.

In any case-...

"Mine hatch because I am a Master. I do not merely grant stones new life, to mix with what lay in them before, do you understand-? I create something new with stones. Whatever was in there before-" (and he pointed at the stone) "-would be lost, if I brought it to life in my way, the way that cannot fail."

He studied Madhukar, for a moment. They must have been close, then-? Family, perhaps? Both were cat-like, so to him, that made total sense. Vargas thought cats were fantastic, but they also sort of all looked the same, to him. "It is possible one of the Forge would be willing to revive it, but I will not force them to. I would try to do it the old way, for you, but I have only just formed new creations; you would have to wait. And it might fail," he added, in warning. "But yours ought not to fail. Your magic is strong, is it not-?" he asked, peering at her closely.

He wasn't sure what made this one stone so important, even, or why Madhukar had thought to come to him. They must have been close, yes; and she does not wish it to fail. To destroy the stone, he reasoned. And she knows of me from prior; it makes sense. It was not that unreasonable, really, but it was the first time he'd encountered it all the same, and it left him somewhat bemused. Still--to the point. "If one of my creatures does revive it, it will look like them, as well. And if it forms here, it will be Chaotic in nature. If it is from one of ours touched with Chaos, it will be Chaos, too. You do understand?" he asked.

@Madhukar

"Don't." She nodded solemnly, suddenly unable to look at Vargas, or anyone, or anything but the floor. Her hand clenched tight, fingers pressing deep into the palm where the emerald had been sitting. Now nothing could block those claws as they dug in tighter, as names battered around in Madhukar's brain. Composure. For Twisted. Is this what Twisted would have wanted?

That question resurfaced in her mind several times as she listened to Master Vargas's explanations. He didn't necessarily overexplain, but he went on in that tone, and it reminded her of the only one who ever just talked while she listened. To her metronomes and the bumblebugs at home. Her heart quivered. She stood her ground, realizing now, as he went, that she might need to make a deal of some sort. As long as he didn't try to make her wear a cursed crown, that was fine. She hadn't quite grasped that this was an organization, with members, soldiers, business and some sort of policy. Now the curiosity gripped her, because it had to.

The intrigue might have shown, if Vargas could realize it. She registered it all, and nodded when he asked if she understood. She didn't think she wanted the aid of his Master abilities, then, if she could help it. Twisted hadn't deserved it, not really — not death by some wayward slushie. She threw herself into deadly risk after risk, without care for her own life, so Madhukar couldn't imagine a suitable death being that upsetting. Suitable was key.

Madhukar wasn't out to create some kind of ritual sacrifice, however. Not some facsimile of Twisted she could "properly kill", that was weird and disgusting. Why waste a life and a gem like that? Madhukar just wanted to... to... Her mind once again turned to the fight with that green-eyed monster. Likely Vargas's green-eyed monster. I only ever make chrysalises. She should have gone looking for that one. She could never find any evidence of it... she never saw it again. For the best, she imagined; she had told it she was out to kill i— them. That she was out to kill them. Why it was important... because in those final moments of that battle, Madhukar had tried once again to do more than that. More than make chrysalises. I want to create life.

It was selfish, she knew. But everything she did was. Everything to make herself feel better, to protect her own heart by protecting the things that kept it beating. Life was selfish, too.

What would Twisted want?

"Could de- demon-strate... magi-c." She could say it's strong, but a demonstration would prove it without words. "Your crea— For-ge... who a-re they?" Madhukar brought her eyes back up to Master Vargas. Once they hit their target she knew for a split second, right then, that this was a mistake. She could feel it — regret — slithering and slicing her from the inside, belly to throat, as it climbed up and up and up to manifest itself in reality. She clamped her jaw and bit her tongue until it hurt, more than it ever hurt. She didn't care about the taste. —That panic was almost gone in an instant.

Fear spiked of its own accord, a whirlwind of thoughts tearing her mind to bits. Why would you say that, what if you see it them again, you've ruined your chance, he'll find out, you can't beat him, would Twisted want this? Would she want this? You'll destroy everything! Strike—! Then, composure. He hadn't even responded yet. The curiosity had to happen, or else she would never even give herself the chance to make it right. So she had to be still. Be selfish. ...For Twisted. Her jaw relaxed.

Madhukar considered the Chaos very briefly. Twisted had always been chaotic. Small, full of enmity, incapable of satisfaction, incapable of staying out of danger. Would she want that still? Wouldn't anything her stone produced (through the non-Master method) have that quality anyways? Or was she making a mistake again, throwing Twisted and herself into something more complicated than she realized? Was she sacrificing some chance at a redo, or peace? All in split seconds, these thoughts. Electricity moves fast.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas blinked, studying Madhukar with brief confusion. "No," he answered bluntly; "you said you have passed Emuh's trial. If that is truth, then your magic should be more than sufficient to return life to a gemstone."

As for his creations-?

"The Forge? -We have a number of members. If you are asking what we do," Vargas continued, turning to gesture back toward the Black Spire, "we are the ones performing the duties required of this nest. Creating the beasts sent away for our Creator's use. If you are asking of who might revive your stone-?" He turned back, peering at her. "There are a number of us. It depends on if you intend to take the child, and raise it yourself." He assumed as much; or why care so much about it? "Some of them may be willing to give you their magic in such a way. If you planned to give the child to the Forge to raise and use," and what a phrase that was, "then I would ensure it was revived. Cats are always a useful design. Our Overseer is part cat," he went on, "and one of our most skilled and trusted members. Our Sentinel, and Chaos-One--the serpent--those are my personal creations, my spawn. Khavur, if you have met it, is my creation. Some of them are spawn of my spawn," he went on idly, and rattled off a couple names: "V-Zoisite-One, V-Selenite-One, Ruby Beta and so on. A couple others are old creations, or old Champions of Hydra."

He fell silent, and waited; he had nowhere else to be, just now, and so despite his authoritative bearing, he was not impatient or domineering. He simply listed answers to the feline's questions, and wondered if they would guide her toward a decision; it was clear that Madhukar hadn't quite known what she was getting into when she'd come here with her request. It wasn't that he was denying her--but perhaps she would now grasp more clearly where she would like to go with this.

@Madhukar

Madhukar ignored his affirmations of her magical ability, opting instead to listen quietly and consider the vociferous onslaught of thoughts in her head. All of these names, and these titles she didn't understand... and would she keep this child, raise it on her own? No— She began to wonder, in fact, about whether or not it would truly count as her child. It wouldn't, right? Wouldn't have her stone, nor her magic, so— MEMORY. Madhukar's eyes briefly attempted an escape from her sockets as she remembered the stone she had given life to. How had she forgotten! Had it hatched? In all her wandering, had she seen it and never even noticed?! Or had her rotten, rotting influence crept into that stone as well, by principle, and shut it up, encased it, forbidden it from life? Why would she pass that down to children of her own making, anyways — she who could not outrun life? Perhaps those children knew the fate they would inherit, and gave themselves a headstart on the escape.

Well, Madhukar didn't know and couldn't know now, so she resigned herself to working in the worst possible scenario. That would mean she could not raise the stone, nor give it life. It would be Twisted once more, brand new, given a real chance and a real name. Should I stay away entirely? followed immediately by Is that what Twisted would have wanted? followed by Wasn't I the cause of her self-destruction? A cause of it, if she wasn't naturally inclined. Because I ran, and she chased, and I... Madhukar didn't know exactly where the blame belonged, but something about taking copious amounts of blame only makes it feel easier to add more and more. Even when it didn't make sense. It was a universe of useless guilt clambering out of a supernova on her back. Her spine, twisted and new, could take the burden, right?

If she was to offer this stone, why offer it to Vargas? Why not anybody else? I don't know anybody else. At least, with him, she could be able to check. And what could she offer, to him or to one of his, um... subjects? Members? Children? Was it normal or trustworthy to live in an evil purple cave filled with your own spawn and call yourselves "monsters"? When you put it like that, the answer is obvious, but I don't know if Twisted could take 'normal'. I don't know if there IS normal. I don't know anything else. She wished she would have learned more, at some point, about... I don't know anyone else.

"Cou-ld I ta-lk... to some?" It wasn't like she expected them to appear before her, or like she expected Master Vargas to summon them. It was more like, "where would I f-ind..." Madhukar had a lot more questions than that, but the willingness and ability to speak was waning. She would make clear her intentions about where the stone would stay and what she would give in turn when those things were asked of her. Maybe they wouldn't be asked of her, maybe they would happen upon an explanation. Patience. Although, Master Vargas might need more incentive... This was starting to feel like charity. "I-" Her throat protested, her whole body felt drained and she could feel the lack. Onward, regardless: "I c-ould offer... f-ood. Mag-ic. S..." The words began to die on her tongue. Service. I don't know how much service I could give. I have storms, but those are best for plants, and these monsters are probably..." her eyes drifted momentarily towards Master Vargas's jaw, ravenous, at least. She reasoned in her head as if speaking aloud, wishing that someone were here to translate. Wishing that someone could reach in and pull her words out for her, or that this was a dream where she could talk freely. Only one person could have done that for her, to her knowledge, and he was one of those chrysalises. He was the oak tree above her haphazard den.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Is it structural? he wondered idly, listening to Madhukar stammer her way through her thoughts.

Had he known her real thoughts, he'd have had incredible food for thought, though his help might have been questionable at best. But he only had her few and stuttered words to go by, though he bore them with calm patience.

"Of course, if they will speak to you. You will find them around Draco, generally, though some move to Pegasus to hunt and eat. What you would need to offer them is up to them; if you ask them to revive the stone for you they may ask something of their own. Tell them I have given permission, though, if you wish it." He was not particularly concerned, even if Madhukar took the child, but in that case the creature reviving it might fail. He had no way of knowing.

If he'd been a strong sort of "sympathy" sort of fellow, he might have felt it then, but for now he simply watched Madhukar, and wondered what she'd do next.

There was one other thing, though, and Vargas wondered about this, too. "If you are looking for someplace to live, yourself, the Forge can always use more members. Of any kind," he added.

Cats are always welcome. Though these days, 'cat' was perhaps a stretch.

@Madhukar