The Sentinel sat alone, staring at his feet. They were splayed out before him, and at the moment, he was studying--very intensely--his toes.

They were short. Stubby. They had claws.

Why were they?

Why were his feet not... whole, solid? Fingers, he could grasp--literally; they held things. But he held nothing with his toes. Why did he have toes..? Eventually, the little one pushed clumsily to his feet--still hardly more than a new hatch, untrained as yet and stumbling with the awful proportions of a toddler. Wolf. Thing. Anyway, he was clumsy, and it was only after steadying himself that he made a new attempt...

The Sentinel attempted to kick at the floor.

Claws scraped it, scoring shallow marks along it, pale streaks.

Hmm; so maybe that's what toes were for. The Sentinel looked up and around, hoping to spot Chaos-Two--his babysitter, watcher, guardian. Chaos was undoubtedly close by, but Sentinel had important questions for it, now.

About toes.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Despite its choice of words, Orthoclase-Alpha's tone was not at all intended to be defensive or snarky when it asked, "what were you looking at?"

Its arrival had been absolutely nothing approaching stealthy or quiet. If anything, it half-stomped over in its usual gait. One of the Forge's newest inhabitants had had a few days to settle in after hatching, and there were strong implications (nudge, nudge) to do something with him. Most of them began and ended with its sudden absence on... business.

Even with a few days' rest, it was still exhausted from that trial. There was something wrong with it, in some strange way it couldn't identify. It felt... haunted, in a way. Acid seemed to still be burned into its retinas, and the afterimage would appear whenever it closed its eyes to sleep.

So, forgive its shambling and monotone voice as it regarded the puppy. It—he was standing on two shaky limbs, peering around before it'd come. His... name had been the Sentinel, right? Descriptive of his intended purpose, hm?

Alpha stared down with half-lidded eyes, awaiting an answer from it's pleasant ten-foot distance. It wasn't even close enough to loom.

@The Sentinel

Blank, round eyes turned to stare up at Orthoclase-Alpha. (Strange to think they were siblings. Strange to think those too-many-eyes came from a similar source, when the rest of them could not have been more different.) He recognized it as one of the creatures that Was Here: that dwelt here. Past that he knew little of the Overseer.

Perhaps, only that it was larger than him.

The puppy again glanced down at his feet. Studied his toes. Looked back at Orthoclase-Alpha. He toddled closer, stumbling a little, and attempted to hold one foot up to the eight-foot-in-the-air snout to demonstrate. Naturally, this was beyond the realm of physical possibility and the Sentinel tumbled over on his rump. He made no complaint about his fall, though shadows briefly swarmed thicker over him; the foot came up again, paws doglike but upright, toes tipped with hooked little claws, a spike jutting out--as Vargas' did--where a dewclaw should've been.

"My toes," he rasped, in answer. And then--perhaps hoping the Overseer would have an answer to his ponderings--he asked,
"Why are... toes?"

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Weird indeed that they could be considered siblings—if only the two of them had been born into any other crowd. Right from the start, they were doomed to be Overseer and... Sentinel.

Sentinel, which was presently making an attempt at... kicking it? Up the foot went, and down went the rest of the body. Alpha sniffed, but more derisively than with amusement. Putrid lime eyes squinted at him. It couldn't fault him for being a clumsy baby still not used to himself (it'd been in those shoes once, even if it wasn't very empathetic about them) but... still. Surely he'd figured out that he needed both legs or steady balance on the ground to avoid falling over? Not to stick his foot all the way up in the air without any counterbalancing? Or even really closing the distance?

... maybe he'd figure it out. There were more pressing matters, such as toes.

Alpha stared dumbly at—no, through them. Just that one question was enough to completely short-circuit its brain. It didn't even sequence fully at first; when it did, the orthoclase uttered one clarifying question: "toes?" They certainly were sharp, but why are toes? A question for the ages.

Later, it'd hate to admit that it was actually trying to think about it. (Did it have questions like this as a child? When it wasn't busy bothering dragons and picking fight after fight?) For now, the Overseer was considering it with surprising depth. Indeed, those sharp claws... It lifted its own set of toes—from the middle set of legs—and flexed them, "you can use them to kick." Alpha blinked and lowered its head somewhat to keep staring, "and walk." They bent when you took a step, right? It felt stiff when they were kept straight.

Toes.

@The Sentinel

He stared at his toes for awhile longer before twisting, looking up to Orthoclase-Alpha. "Kick." He said it slowly, as if learning the word, or savoring it. Contemplating it. Ahh, yes, that look seemed to say, kick. With the foot. A fine tactic. Or maybe, what's a kick??? It wasn't clear, and he didn't elaborate, instead kicking a short scuff of dirt across the rock before blinking back up to his Overseer.

"You are... Overseer," he informed Orthoclase-Alpha, at last--in case it didn't know?--and then followed that up with, "The Sentinel... watches the door. The Overseer..."

Looong pause.

"...Sees?" A slight cock of the puppyish head as he gazed up, staring intently--trying to gauge Orthoclase-Alpha's purpose, apparently.

What did an Overseer do?

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Sentinel waited for his lesson. Attentive, patient. His Overseer seemed... distracted, but surely their training would begin soon enough.

Soon his attention strayed back to his toes--and all the fascinating secrets held within. And there they would remain until Orthoclase-Alpha pulled it back to the present.

exit due to inactivity