At the time, Eurydome had been calm as the alligator told her that her Master was probably dead. She thanked him again, and she left-- and as soon as her paws hit solid, dry ground, she began to panic.

A solid hour or two was spent in the yawning tunnel by the entrance to Cetus, where she could still hear insects chirping, panicking. Her hulking body shoved against the wall, or she would fall-- unsure if she wanted to throw up, or cry, or slink away back into her chrysalis. Somehow, she had managed to avoid doing any of those. Instead, she breathed harder than she had breathed in some fights as the realization sunk in: Jupiter was dead, Eurydome was probably a failure of a creation, and the caves were mostly empty.

Nothing to do. No one to follow.

Eurydome shut her eyes and when she opened them again, several days had passed. Several days of wandering on autopilot, awash with grief, unsure how to handle it. When she opened her eyes again, she could feel the familiar twinge of corruption coming from Draco from the tunnel she stood in: inky-black claws that nipped at her mind like a dog at her heels. She could feel panging hunger deep in her belly, the dryness of her throat.

She pushed on anyway, with the vaguest memory that the new Master had agreed to speak with her.

The gladiator had only been in Draco a handful of times. She destroyed a good many chrysalises that were taking root by the black Spire, alongside other rebels. If she were lucky, no one who currently lived in Draco would remember her from that: and to her surprise, the room was much quieter than she had expected it to be.

A chill felt as though it were crawling down her spine, and when the centuar shook it off she was also shaking off everything that clung to her, if for the duration of one conversation. The grief, the uncertainty, the looming feeling of dread. When she was ready, she stepped further in with a hoarse call.

"Master Vargas?"

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He had nearly forgotten the alligator's visit, by now. Had forgotten the mention of an ancient rebel, of an Arena combatant gone rogue.

But when he strode for the voice and saw that flash of tawny fur, he recognized her. "Eurydome," he greeted, his voice a loud rumble. He could not remember having faced her directly in the arena--the combatants, the flash of blood and lights and the tangles in bloodied dust were by now a blur of memory. Eurydome, he remembered, had fought for theatrics. Vargas, generally, had gone in the arena to kill; her sorts of fights had been fun to watch. Entertaining. His had been fun to participate in. Not that he hadn't had his share of fun brawling with Vakornol, the two thrashing each other around the ring for the audience to roar at. Regardless, he remembered her fighting style: she'd ham it up, drawing the match out, bleeding and retreating. Her brawn had made her hard for most opponents to take down and her blade, hard for them to get close enough to without a limb being severed.

The sword was in her grip now, and he eyed her with veiled suspicion. Wariness. She had, so Dragon claimed, been a rebel and Vargas was not stupid enough to assume her to be harmless now. She might be here, he knew, for vengeance.

"The Gilded Blade, was it not?" he greeted, drawing closer, but he stopped a body length away.

He had not been here, in Draco, during that era. He hadn't known of her attacks here; he'd been Overseeing Hydra and its trials, prowling Canis for rebels and discarded victims who'd fled into the bone warrens. That, perhaps, was for the best because killing the unborn-? Vargas held that to be a sin of the highest order.

"I agreed to speak to you, but I will ask: we are not going to have trouble, are we?" The question was a wary one, toxic eyes slipping to her blade. He was not afraid of her, but as with Draconua, he was also not an idiot, not about to waltz up and ignore the massive blade and centuries of combat experience that Eurydome carried with her.

@Eurydome

Eurydome's instinct for best behaviour kicked in as Vargas made himself known instantly. Back straight but stance loose (as non-threatening as she could manage), with attentive eyes. Jupiter had told her that if any Master or Hand had had wanted to speak with her or inspect her, she was to treat them with respect. Speak when spoken to, pay attention, don't be stupid.

Something twisted in her belly and her heart wrenched at the thought of her Master, but this only shone through with the slightest of uncomfortable curls of her lip, which was promptly hidden by the dip of her ragged head to Vargas's greeting.

"Yes, Master Vargas," she croaked in response. Gilded Blade, the Amaranth, these seemed like relics of an incredibly distant past. Everything was... different now.

His second question, however, caught her briefly off guard. "No--" she said, eyes following the Master's gaze. In a slow movement, she hauled her sword off her shoulder and set it carefully on Draco's cave floor, using one oversized paw to bat the amethyst blade away from her. Her ear flicked to its brief wail as it slid far from her reach. "No, Master Vargas. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

Another twist of her mouth. Without her hand resting on the hilt of her blade, she felt oddly... naked. She was unsure what to do with her hands and went through a brief back and forth of having them clasped, having them on her hips, before settling on having them limp by her sides.

A shuffle, and then silence, as she waited for Vargas to speak again.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Some part of him was tempted, at her croak and her awkward hesitation--the shuffling of her hands--to assure her he would not harm her.

But--though that was true enough--he had no reason to dispel the illusion that he might. Such an illusion granted control, and granted respect he didn't want to immediately dismiss. For now, he kept her respect as a useful tool and he gave her a sharp nod, instead. "Dragon spoke to me a little. He said that you were a rebel, but unknowingly--is this true? That you do not know of your Master's fate, and that you were looking for new orders."

Best to get the summary out of the way, to get an idea of what he had to work with, rather than launch into long-winded explanations and find that he'd misunderstood. It occurred to him, of course, that she might be lying; that perhaps he should let her speak, first. But even a liar would keep her story consistent between telling Dragon, and telling him, so there was no real point in such precautions.

@Eurydome

Another shuffle. "Yes."

A pause, and then Eurydome continued hoarsely. "Dragon said that she was... dead," (another strange feeling in her gut-- swelling like she were about to throw up). "But she was my creator. I followed her every command. I did not realise that... her plans, and the things that she did, were..." ... wrong?

No, not... wrong. Jupiter must have had her reasons. How many times had the Master spoken of freedom, and the right to do as they please? Eurydome's mouth twisted a final time before the muscles in her face loosened-- not in a relaxing or relieved gesture, but more with the feeling of submission.

Perhaps Eurydome was not created to understand the intricacies of something like rebellion.

"I do not want trouble, Master Vargas," the gladiator said after a breath. "But I am... not sure, truly, what I am meant to do. It feels as though everything I was told was..." wrong..?

... yes, wrong. 'Obey your master,' they had said-- 'but not like that,' was the later consensus. Eurydome couldn't deal with such clashing ideals, and the more and more she thought about it, the more everything felt like it was falling apart around her.

She wished she were in the arena. She wished everything was normal again.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Lost, came the calculating thought, the appraisal, the sum of her ticks and hesitations. The Overseer's judgement: She is lost.

He studied her, then exhaled heavily, and rocked back so that he was half-sitting on his haunches. "You do not know what happened, do you-?" he asked, eyeing her. "Do you know why there was a rebellion? What it was even about? You followed orders only, I take it. But did Jupiter ever tell you why; and do you know what happened to her?"

He was realizing that he'd have to take a few steps back; it was good he'd asked for her summary because... yes, she was lost.

And before he could offer her directions, he was going to have to draw her a whole damn map.

@Eurydome

Vargas huffed and reared back, and for a second she thought his mouth might open to kill her where she stood-- but instead, he continued to speak. He asked questions, he seemed to get himself comfortable. This should have been a relief to most, but it sent a familiar wave of grief over Eurydome.

When she went to initially speak, something caught her throat-- claws that latched around her jugular and lodged the words in there tight. Instead, she gently shook her head.

She had to think about it, first, for a moment: get everything in her head into a cohesive order and not miss any details. Or... cohesive enough, at least.

Finally-- "she always said that it was because she wanted freedom," she said. "I do not understand what Jupiter meant. I do not know if I ever will. I assume she... did not like her duties, or the rules that the Valkhands left on her, but I do not know why. I do not know what made her want freedom, or why it was so valuable. I do not understand why we had to hide and steal for it, or why we destroyed so much of what we did."

"I don't know what happened to her, or how she died. I don't... know if I want to know."

Eurydome considered her words very carefully, for a moment, claws itching idly at one of the glittering scars parting the fur on her arms. "Something about it... hurts. Thinking about her, it feels like I'm being stabbed over and over again, but never hibernating to heal from it. I do not understand that, either. I am worried that there is... something fundamentally wrong with me-- that she did something so that I will never work the same."

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

His gut dropped with realization, at this last, and he was very careful in his phrasing. "Tell me--do you know who made you? Was it Jupiter, or..?" Or was it Tamulus? Oh, yes, you may be broken; you may share a flaw imparted in us chosen few.

A flaw passed down, a jittering hole that let unwelcome thoughts pour in. A thing that left Vargas's children damaged, and the Master himself struggling to keep up.

Or perhaps... not. Maybe he imagined all of it; he never could tell. His were but guesses, levied against the facts that had been presented for him and truth be told, he didn't even know how much of that might be lies.

Everyone had their end games, in this place, and beyond it. He could only work with what he was given.

But his suspicions were strong, and studying Eurydome now? Unpleasant certainty settled in his gut. The rest--her grief, the knowledge she was lacking--that could come after but this? This was a question whose answer he needed, now.

@Eurydome

"Yes," said Eurydome, who although was wondering why it mattered, saw no reason to lie. "Jupiter created me."

It seemed like a strange thing that Jupiter would make up, for whatever reason. What would be the reason for telling her that, when it was someone else? Eurydome's brow furrowed gently, but she did not speak further -- not until Vargas asked another question.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas considered.

Was it possible that Jupiter had acted alone, at times, in her creations-? Not that she, a rebel, might also have taken Tamulus's route, he mused.

He took a breath--none of it mattered, now. He had to address a whole list of things, and whether or not that had occurred didn't make a difference to it--not to her. To him-?

Oh, yes.

But not to her.

"I will tell you what happened--I will spare you the details of Jupiter's death if you prefer it. But I think it is important that you understand the rebellion. Why it happened, who put it down. And then you will need to be told how things have changed, since, and what your place is in all of this--regardless of anything that may be damaged. I will get to that," he added, matter-of-factly.

He paused. If she had questions, he ought to give her a moment to voice them; or if she had any protests. "Is this acceptable?"

Best to ask before he began his history lessons.

@Eurydome