It had been many cycles since Shrike had met the... oh, what had it been? The one with the... chips. Dusted, flavorful. She knew now that it'd been representative of some sort of special magic, Order magic; asking around had offered only horrified murmurs of things like hiveminds and mind control. She doubted it was all that bad, but even so--the power it offered sounded like her thing.

Morality didn't factor in. The truth was, she was bored; simply surviving wasn't enough. She wanted a chance to twist fate, to manipulate, to control others. If this Hive did control Gembounds, then she wanted in--as a master, not a slave.

She was patrolling Pegasus now, having gradually made her way from cave to cave. The only word she really remembered was the one about the chips... Dontas. So now she rose up, wings flapping, and circled in serpentine grace, calling out: "DONTAS? I SEEK DONTAS. ...DONTAS?"

She didn't, of course. She couldn't care less about Dontas. But it was a code word, sort of; if someone recognized the name, perhaps they could point her in the right direction. In the meantime she swept lower, scales glittering white, and scoured the fields for anything hopeful.

@Ace

Although he'd awoken a somewhat different Ace than the one who'd collapsed into a chrysalis-bound sleep, the duties of the Hive remained constant and never-ending in the necessity of their completion. As a soldier, though he had no battles of tooth and claw currently to triumph in, scouting and patrolling remained an expectation of him that demanded fulfillment. Being cycles behind in those tasks spurred him to take to the skies almost immediately once he'd sorted his mind out properly. There also existed another motivation as well: what better way to evaluate his new form than to take it on a proper test flight.

For his present travel through the open space above Pegasus, the Drone maintained an easy cruise. On occasion, a bank or dive was added for a mild examination of reaction speed and mobility, both seeming to yield promising results so far. The intention was to start slow and ease into more rigorous activity, much as his aerial combatant instincts demanded leaping into heart-pumping daredevil stunts instead. Exercising patience would prove more helpful in gauging weaknesses and strengths; also it served to silence nagging from some of his more concerned comrades.

Really, it was as if they didn't trust him not to end up in a crash landing. Of all Drones, he should be expected to know how to operate a fancy set of wings. After all, this was what he was created for: to rule the skies and make the Oil-slicked beasts slinking on the ground fear him pursuing their filthy tracks. The shape of the wings didn't matter when the being flexing them was an expert in his field.

What he wasn't a wunderkind at, though, was personal relations. More specifically, soldiers flopped at marketing unless war was the item being advertised. Oh, he recognized the call for Dontas carried on the winds whisking by him, but did his heart soar at the prospect of barking out the benefits of the crunchy snack? No, he greatly preferred extolling the therapeutic act of knocking Chaos clowns' skulls together. However, seeing as their best representative couldn't be here and not desiring to bring the obnoxious weight of siblings' disappointment upon his head, Ace resigned himself to preparing his best salesman's pitch and swooped downward, eyes scanning below for this hungry customer.

There they were, circling the peaceful expanse of meadow and showcasing their own flight capabilities—not terrible, Ace judged, but he bet his corkscrew toward them would make that uncomplicated maneuver look clumsy in comparison. Tipping a wing propelled him into an immediate spiral. Feathers churned through gathered clouds like blades in a blender. His greeting was a sudden boom as he shot through the atmosphere.

"Hey, I donta have any Dontas right now, but I can take you where that preachy little guy keeps them. The name's Ace, uh, snack distributor!"

What, it wasn't like he was born to peddle addictive food. The closest he got to that was cramming Oily chuckleheads' words down their throats. Give him a break for Mother's sake.

@The Warden
@Shrike

Ace's appearance left Shrike wide-eyed--at first by virtue of the sudden, loud voice and then, secondarily, his appearance. She stared up for a beat before offering up a breathy, amazed greeting: "Oh, I love you." It wasn't in the romantic sense, though. She spoke the way someone might upon spotting a beautiful gemstone, or a nice car--in another world--and maybe that wasn't a great thing; maybe objectification to that level wasn't any better than being creepy. But then, Shrike had never been an expert at personal relations, either.

Still, the more flexible corners of her beak turned upward in a smile, eyes glittering with a sort of empty desire. She wanted that power, that spiralling confidence Ace seemed to exude, and she wanted the backing of the powerful, too.

"Actually," she called up, a little more loudly (though Ace might well have heard her other comment), "I wanted to discuss something else--if you have a moment? 'Dontas' just seemed to be something that only a select few would recognize." She showed no fear, because--foolish or not--she felt none. She was purely fascinated, held rapt even, by the sickles and spines and plating.

Could she ever hope to compare..?

"My name is Shrike," she added, and allowed herself to drift down into a serpentine coil to the grass below. She settled there, half sitting and half curled upright. Easier, she thought, to have a conversation on the ground rather than shouting back and forth--particularly if the conversation might be one that Ace would prefer be kept quiet. And from all she'd heard of the Hive, that was likely to be the case.

@Ace

Amongst all the possible words to describe Ace, never would modest be one of them. Anyone who tried suggesting that he embody its definition would likely only earn mocking laughter for their efforts. What use, after all, was there in being coy about one's natural talents and aesthetic charm. Those existed to be flaunted and lorded over any lacking in their advantage, especially if the ones to be humiliated were the sneaky bastards serving Chaos. Therefore, overhearing the covetous admiration snatched by the breeze did well to inflate an ego massive enough to possess a gravitational pull of its own. As his flight leveled out, he basked in the attention with a mane toss and snap of his toothy jaws.

"You and everyone with sense," he crowed. "Least that's what I keep telling the squares back home."

The reveal that the purpose for this encounter was something beyond potentially playing delivery boy for tasty treats caused an inquisitive head tilt. Furthermore, while he remained bombastic as ever, another layer settled in place above this, tinting his demeanor in cooler hues than previously. The opportunity for a serious discussion coaxed out the professional in him, and his gaze sharpened—the better to pick apart opponents and their intentions.

"Well, that's close enough to a magic word for us," came slow acquiescence to the presented arrangement. A sweep brought Ace into a gradual descent until he softly touched down among flowers. Despite the precise care taken in his landing, the posture he displayed was rigid, not from paranoia but deeply ingrained discipline. He rested on haunches, his back ramrod straight, and nodded to Shrike in acknowledgement of her name as well as a signal to speak further.

"So then. What's the situation that you need Order in your corner? Not that I question your fantastic taste. We are the best choice anytime."

Directly to the perceived point. He might enjoy dishing out disses, but business was nothing to play around with.

@Shrike

"Squares," was the first thing Shrike repeated back, a quizzical smile (or as much as one could manage, with a beak) plastered across her face. The magic that had granted her some understanding of language, as a hatchling, fell short with this; she knew it as a shape. But it seemed to be... maybe an insult? That was a guess, though; maybe the Hive had a lot of Gembounds of square shape..?

Ahh--but professionalism had descended like a funeral shroud, turning crowing brags into stiff attention, and Shrike shifted a little more upright to match and to compensate. Part of that was her typical habit: she didn't really feel as others did, so mimicry was her natural response. And part just felt it'd be rude to slouch and chat while Ace was offering businesslike regard.

She cleared her throat and tipped her head, considering her phrasing before she answered. "There's no particular... situation, really. I've met--ahh--the one who dealt in Dontas. The--Customer Service Agent?" she added, head tipping farther. She wasn't sure what kind of animal a Customer Service Agent was, but that's how the introduction had gone, anyway. "Jinyi. That was his name. And in looking for him later, I heard some things about Order. Hive. Do those words mean anything-?" she asked, pondering. "It said something to me that those who spoke them did so in hushed tones." There was as glitter in her eyes, now--playful? Zealous? Malicious? It was hard to tell, and may even have just been hope, or envy. She wanted some of Order for herself, that much was becoming clear. "I was... interested. I'd love to become something more than I am--I feel that something is missing? If that makes sense to you," she added, and her demure little chuckle was one imitated from a dozen others, empty and cold as her diamond. "So what I'm asking, I suppose, is... are you recruiting?"

She shifted position, a little, raptly watching Ace. She hoped that he was right; that Order was the best choice. She had a few questions to ask, of course, but oh yes, she was interested.

@Ace (you can probably tag Warden after your post, maybe?)

It was a rare instance for him to keep his mouth clamped shut instead of allowing whatever thoughts came to mind to roll easily off his tongue. Being thrust into a position that demanded the strategy of a warrior but not its physical brutality had tempered the typical battering ram of a personality he possessed and whittled it into a spear instead, not as precise as the scalpel a true Order ambassador wielded but a more finesse-reliant weapon nevertheless. He considered Shrike with a haughty up and down scan of her form. Whether she had what it took to follow Mother's marching orders, he'd give it to her, the hybrid Gembound certainly wore the appropriate team colors for a prospective recruit.

"Depends," he ventured. "Others like that Customer Service guy, they're happy to take anyone with the heart for the job. But me? The branch I represent is built out of sterner stuff, expected to be. We're in enemy territory here, so joining us can paint quite a target on your back if you're not careful who catches wind of it."

To emphasize his point, Ace whipped a quick glance to either side of him. The meadows didn't provide much concealment for spies, but the sneaky sort typically weren't towering behemoths. Likelier they'd be some pipsqueak created for the sole purpose of squatting in tall grasses. Keen ears, too, might lurk in the distant trees of the forest, dialed into their conversation and prepared to report on the Hive's perfectly orchestrated movements. Always one had to be vigilant for Chaos' underhanded tactics. The lesson required learning immediately rather than through the stumbling imperfection non-Drones harbored despite their best intentions.

"To first understand what you're getting into, let me be clear: everywhere is riddled with an infection. Spit and wherever it lands on, Chaos owns it. Disaster, lack of control, emptiness of purpose—all their fault. It's rampant, and my Hive came here to beat the bastards back. We're a small unit compared to those Oily messes but one of many, and we offer what they can never. Strength, stability, and absolute power."

Ace threw his head pridefully back and flung his arms outward. He existed as crystalline proof of the benefits spoken of.

"So, sure, we're recruiting. But do you have the will and guts to walk our path? Once you're one of us, you've got to be able to dominate and flatten any opposition in our way."

@Shrike
@The Warden (though I know you're keeping tabs, tentative poke for if you think this might work as an entry point)

As if on queue to prove the Skyreaver's point, off in the distance of Pegasus, a stain on the beautiful landscape appeared, all black and dark purple, with that distinct gleaming green of the Creator broadcasting its allegience. It had already spotted them, out in the open that they were, and the appearance of both - white, all white, blindingly so - had it excitedly taking off at a gallop in their direction. It would arrive quickly - it was not a slow beast nor a small one.

The Warden had simply been out training, a short break from its constant guard of the Aperture alongside its life-giver, and it had heard Shrike's call too - not exactly a quiet call, and foolish to name such a thing so close to the heart of Chaos. They were not stupid. They knew of this new little trick of the Hive. So it had begun its hunt and chase, and now it was out in the field, charging their way.

Not aggressively, though. The glaive was held, yes, it did not go anywhere without it, but not in a ready stance, simply tucked at its side, held under its arm. It wanted to savor this moment - and also it maybe wanted to know some stuff first.

"Well, look at this!" It called as it approached. "What are a couple of little Drones wandering around Pegasus for?" It slowed its gallop as it stared down at Ace, recognition itching at its mind. It could have sword it saw something just like this at that big fight in Leo cycles and cycles ago, but it sure looked different. The grin that cracked across its face grew wide. "Oh, I know you. Got yourself kicked around a little bit?"

@Shrike