- THE LEVIATHAN -

Ahh, an argument.

This wasn't why he'd come, but Vargas leered down at the hyena nonetheless. She was always a little... rebellious. Oh, he'd put her in her place before. He'd scented the terror on her, despite her baleful glare. She could paint bones and carry bones and talk to bones all she liked, but-...

Well, he couldn't call her useless. Or even harmless. She did have some strange ability. A connection, perhaps, to Dawa's magic--despite her native element being Astraea's. But her words had come true, more than once, so to dismiss her outright would be unfair.

That wasn't, however, to say that Master Vargas had to listen to her bullshit. Right now, she was berating him--if mildly, and sardonically--for not having marched his armies here to clear out what she had so eloquently termed "that shitstain Order fungus all over everything." And truth be told, he... didn't really have a reason as to why he hadn't. He'd given the Forge permission to do so. Even offered rewards, but he hadn't ordered them. And why should he-? This was Astraea's domain, his magic. If he needed help with it he could damn well ask. Still-

"ENOUGH." That, of course--yelling at someone to just shut up--was absolutely his prerogative now as a Master. But... he wasn't entirely unreasonable. "We have our own responsibilities. I am training the Forge, and creating spawn for our Creator's works. I had thought this to be under control." He glanced around. To some extent it was true; he'd figured Astraea would've had a handle on this by now. It did look... pretty disgusting. What has he been up to-? A shake of his great head punctuated his sentence. "Or did you wish a reward for tackling it yourself? You have not made much headway," he pointed out, with a flash of his old humor.

The offer of a reward, however, was quite sarcastic.

Giggle flashed her teeth to Vargas in what was half a sneer, half a snarl. "I don't want whatever you'd consider a reward," came her bark of an answer.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, because he'd threatened her before and she had absolutely no doubt that there were some unseen lines--some vague boundaries she didn't know--that if she crossed, he'd kill her. That terrified her, and she hated being terrified, which just pissed her off more.

Which edged her closer, she imagined, to whatever those boundaries might be--and wasn't that just a lovely fucking irony? So she slinked around, hating herself, hating him, trying not to panic or to push too far. "And the hell I haven't. It just keeps coming back, that's all," she added, irritated. Every time she swept away the fungus, even walled it off with her own, it seemed to have crept a few inches back by the next day. A week away from her pit and it'd have overcome the place.

She shook her head and plodded past the bones, eyeing them briefly. A tip forward of her snout seemed to help direct her magic, a flowing and rippling of power pushing the white mold away, replacing it with a thin line of bioluminescent blue-capped mushrooms. "It'll have passed them again by tomorrow," she explained, before glancing up at the hulking violet monster.

"As for your monsters, I know well. How's Orthoclase-Alpha?" she asked, a deliberate bite to her tone. "Still alone out there? You know, your methods..." and maybe someone more eloquent would've phrased this better--a 'leave something to be desired,' perhaps--"are crap."

She side-eyed him, then, suddenly afraid she might've finally overstepped.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas did, in fact, debate killing her for just a moment. But he wasn't actually angered. He didn't answer her question, because it was none of her Creator-damned business,* but he did snort as he stared down at her. "Ahh, and I suppose you could perform my job better-? Create world-rending soldiers with your-" (and here he curled one six-taloned forelimb upward, opening his palm as if in generous gesture) "-love and forgiveness?" A sneer. "I treat them fairly, bone-witch. But they serve a purpose. Your emotions are a tool of evolution." He pushed up, haunches springing him forward. The long tail swept behind him as he circled, though to his credit, it was not to stalk her. Instead, in a surprising display of solidarity, he moved to help her.

Long limbs raked the carpets of white, tearing up mold by the handfuls, tossing it away. He could be infected--he knew that--but so long as he didn't eat or inhale any, or jam it straight into his bloodstream, he'd be fine.

"You creatures are those of another world--did you know that..? You who feel these things are likely meant to live with dozens of your kind. To cooperate and all of that. Your emotions ensure your cooperation with this design. They are your Overseer. Your Master. We do not feel these things."

Which wasn't entirely true, was it-? Somewhere along the line, the system had been... corrupted, for lack of a better word. "As for Orthoclase-Alpha--it was not a creation, but a child. And not all of its blood was ours." Perhaps that would best explain it. It had been tainted, in a sense, by Earth's weakness--at least, that was Vargas's assumption. He still wasn't sure where Elyon had come from, that side of her that had not been alabaster centaur. And that was an irony--wasn't it-?--that the other parent of his wayward spawn was, in fact, the grandchild of Giggle's now-dead best friend.

Their ignorance in this matter was shared.

* also those threads were never finished so the answer is in limbo hahaha

Giggle eyed him sidelong, and didn't say what she was thinking--that she'd far rather her own feelings as her 'master' and 'overseer', as opposed to some big purple oaf with far too many eyes. That, she imagined, would be over the line.

It was tempting, though.

As it was she bit it back, growled out a sigh instead, and turned the other way as if to escape him. To lose him, somehow, in her own work. But of course, she couldn't just let it go. "If you say so. Tell me, how many of your children have turned out... Happy? That's not the right word," she reflected, head tilting. "Well-adjusted? No--both. Any of 'em?" and her glance back was venomous, because she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

The rip of mold this time was a little violent: a rippling spread that tore Order away and left it in a dessicated half-pile a little ways onward.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas laughed sharply at her. Not with her--at her, and the distinction was important, because his tone was mocking. "Aside from Ruby-Beta, and Titanite, and Carmeltazite, V-Chaos-Four and -Five, the Hellswan spawns, the Xenotime, V-Onyx-One-through-Three, and everything I have formed for Our Lord Dhracia-?"

Of course, it wasn't all true, and that--that little lie--weighed on him. He was not a lying sort, and it was hard for him to even keep a secret (and oh, SUCH secrets he was carrying-!)... Not all of those on the list were 'happy.' Not all, in fact, were likely even still alive; certainly those Dhracia took away were likely to be killed, in the end. And there were those he did not mention.

Chaos-Two--well, he hoped that one was dead, but that was a prime and infuriating example of the one time he had decided to try mercy and patience with his weak new spawn. Their wretchedness had not been their fault, after all. But Chaos-Two had in the end turned toward chaos, after all--if of a petulant, pathetic sort. The kind that whined that everything was not their fault, rather than taking responsibility and finding courage. Their beloved sibling, though, Khavur-...

...Now there was a logic problem. Khavur had been Chaos through and through, had it not? Yet even now it was a mystery to him. While perfectly dutiful and bold, it held what he could only describe as a distant melancholy. Then there were Orthoclase-Alpha's children.

He had been... kind, to them. Zoisite in particular, but he had tried his best with Labradorite and the rest. He could hardly blame them for not being pure Chaos by blood, but they had shown deeper sensitivity than he'd expected. It had been difficult to work around, and even now he doubted that any of these could truly be molded into the destructive sort of beasts Rrevalk desired.

It was, then, with a vague curiosity--a desire to know the real answer--that he asked his next utterly mocking-sounding quesiton:

"Do you think you could do better? Tell me, creature: what would you change?" His leering near-grin and voice dripping with utter disregard hid the actual reality behind it; maybe she did have a tip or two for raising the earth-blooded beasts. Something... he didn't know.

Something he could not understand.

So intent was he on the hyena that he did not really pay attention to where he was grabbing. He took another great fistful of fungus into his hand, yanked it up while turning--and, oh, it had not been anchored after all. His forelimb came too hard, and Vargas uttered a guttural half-roar as he realized he'd just slammed the mold directly toward his own face.

Oh, shit, was his brief coherent thought, as he hoped to the Creator--no, to Dhracia herself--that he hadn't just been infected.

...Again.

Giggle glanced back, and suppressed a snort as she watched the Leviathan basically punch himself in the face with a handful of white mold. Incredible, she thought, and wondered just how he'd gotten this far.

She turned and plodded over, eyeing him sardonically. "Lean down," she said, matter-of-factly and with the clear intent to purge him of any infection. "-And since you ask..." She leaned up sweetly to meet him, her voice taking on a kindly, patient tone--that of the mother she'd so often been.

The hyena--tiny by comparison with the hulking monster now leaning down toward her--had to stretch to meet him. "I'd listen to them, and talk to them, and ask them what they want in life. Support them and give them freedom, and a name, not whatever the hell you people do in Draco. And if they're hurt?" She planted a kiss on Vargas's downturned forehead, black lips and rancid fur pressing there briefly as her magic swept into him, a powerful surge fuelled by her adrenaline that tore free an already-festering mold there and sent it drifting harmlessly away.

"I kiss it and make it better. I show them love."

Then she backed up quickly, in case he decided to bite her head off for that. And turned her back, too, hustling off to 'cleanse some more fungus' (not running away, not at all) as she hastily continued. "If a kid's gonna grow up to be a healthy and confident adult they've got to know they're cared for. That no matter what they do, or who they decide to be, their family has their back. Not given rules, and threats, and ultimatums." She sounded a little harsh--but that's because her heart was in it.

She'd hated seeing his spawn. Great, violent monsters, but confused, or sulking, or afraid. Or--in the case of the Sentinel--empty. Empty of anything... good. Life and love and humor.

"Your kids ever tell jokes?" she asked, abruptly.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Irritation surged through him as she dared to touch him. His head snapped up--even as his Master's sensitivity told him how powerful that magic had been. His power shot out, arresting her movement, a powerful Command in his voice. "Stop. ...Do that again," he snarled softly, "and I will tear off a limb." The touch, he knew, was not necessary. He released her--sharply--only after giving her a moment to acknowledge his words, and the seriousness of them.

He was getting tired of having to threaten this one.

...Still, he settled on his haunches, because as far as the fungus went? She knew what she was doing, and he seemed to be doing more harm than good.

"I have no use for anything bar 'beast that can rend our foes.' Would you rather an army of mine stand between you and Order, or an army of... your creatures?" He realized, almost as soon as he said it, that it was a terrible comparison right now given that she was purging him. That she'd surely call him out on that. He hastened to add to it. "We fought them back in Leo; we are the only reason they do not own these caves. While Canis was simply... taken." Her last question, though, left his harsh words stopped.

"Jokes?" he echoed back, blankly. Then, more sharply: "What does that have to do with anything?"

She froze--she could do nothing else except freeze--and felt absolute horror at the power that now controlled her. Her body, not her own; his words, enough to lock her into place. Oh, holy shit. No thanks. No, thank you.
Her lips wrinkled up, thick yellowed teeth baring and she was about to growl at him to LET HER GO--but thankfully he did before she could say it. Because, if she had, he'd probably have killed her. Maybe.

She still wasn't really sure where those boundaries lay; it was the fact they could be anywhere that got to her.

Her mind, a moment later, was struggling to catch up. Jokes. -Right. She exhaled heavily and turned, gathering herself, trying to push past the adrenaline now leaving her unpleasantly lightheaded and shaky. "Life needs humor. If they're not laughing, they're not happy. I don't know. Get them a clown, or something," she muttered, because honestly, she wasn't feeling super invested in this conversation anymore. (Admittedly she only had the barest idea of what a clown was, and that idea was more aligned iwth the Carnival imps, but...)

"Look," she said at last, turning toward him and staring up with uncharacteristic honesty. "Let me be honest. Right now, with you looming here, making threats and throwing around your weight, your authority, your... whatever the hell those spikes are? That's using... well, fear. You're using fear to control! Fear to influence. And you think you have that right, because you have the power to do it. That's bullying. You're a bully." Her words were half-lifeless, blunt; they weren't fierce or heartfelt. It wasn't that their meaning wasn't heartfelt, but she felt... tired, with all of this. "Fear's a motivation, but it's a shitty one. Can I try magic for a second? I can show you what I mean."

At his (narrow-eyed) nod, she nodded back, and tried for it.

Forgetting, of course--or for the moment hopefully disregarding--that her magicka had been weakened since her Emuh trial. Her mind linked to his, and she tried--really tried--to show him what she meant. To show her the fear he was inflicting on her; to show that there was no good that could come of it. Heart-rending terror, that wouldn't-

Oh shit.
Said terror seemed to... amplify. Bounce back. Reverberate. Intensify. Echo again. A moment later the old hyena was caught in it, shaking her head and stumbling back, until she was on the ground and trembling--helpless, afraid, black void in her mind's eye and the terror glazing her eyes over.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas tensed himself, wary, for whatever she was about to do. He cast his mind briefly through possibilities--but whatever he'd imagined, the hyena suddenly falling on the floor and just flailing there hadn't been among them. If he focused, he could catch a distant hint of the link: fear, but somewhere distant, not affecting him at all.

He watched, half-amused and half-impatient, as she just sort of flopped for a few moments; then he pushed up with a grunt and plodded over.

He fed his steps through with magic.

And each plodding stride... gave off a noise. Honk. Squeak. Splat. It was ridiculous, and it was funny, and he paced around her like a giant predator as he SQUONKed and BEEPed with every step. "A clown?" he echoed back, nudging her back with one fist. "Yes, I think I can manage humor. My spawn? ...No, perhaps they do not laugh overmuch. -Get up, bone-reader. You're caught in your own magic."

Distantly, she became aware of the massive predator stalking toward her helpless body. And--secondarily, the honking.

It took a moment, but it snapped her out of it, too ludicrous and strange to ignore. She blinked, her mind focusing on the sound, and finally the magic dropped.

Giggle gasped and rolled half-upright, blinking and dazed. Her teeth bared, and she sneezed, dust in her nostrils. "...Hell," she croaked, and glanced up at the Leviathan. She debated, briefly, blaming her transcendence but truth be told, she didn't really care enough to. She shuffled upright, exhaling. "So I see. -The humor thing. Look, this is exhausting. You're exhausting; being around you is exhausting. You know you won't ever love your kids--you don't think love is useful, even--so why are you bothering? Do you think you can somehow change my mind? Just go meet any of my kids," she urged. Hell, she'd taken children not her own and helped guide them toward something better. "They aren't soldiers, but they don't have to be. If something threatens our family, they'll fight just as well." And they would: she'd seen it firsthand. Hell, Kerberos--adopted or not--she'd have pitted against any of Vargas's hellbeasts with a fair amount of confidence. Not willingly, though. That was the difference between her and this "Master." "I don't want to see my kids hurt. You don't seem to care. And to you, there's no problem with that."

She shook her head, and turned away, but she wasn't ready to try with her magic just yet. Not... so soon, not still shaking as she was. Her dark eyes fixed on the mold, instead, and she took another breath. "I don't know how to explain to you something you don't understand." Not without her magic, and that-... well, it wasn't cooperating right now, was it?