- THE LEVIATHAN -

Any day, now.

Vargas paced.

Checked the newest Agate; left. Came back half an hour later, checked again. He was fretting: how bad was it? Would it be decent? V-Agate-One was useful enough, and he thought that Lord Dhracia was likely to be pleased with it. He'd certainly managed to, however inadvertantly, capture the damn thing's personality. And he thought that this was likely what Lord Dhracia was after. But on top of that, he'd added venom, quills, flight.

He hoped that it would be up to his Lord's standards, for he had a hundred other ideas racing around in his mind.

The Land-Shark. The Sea Dragon. The Tank Behemoth.

Should Lord Dhracia approve of this one, well--hopefully he'd be given free rein to carry on with his creations. This hunger was a new and vivid one, filling his mind and days with sparks of vibrant inspiration, and he itched to put it all into practice.

The next time he arrived at the chrysalis--the color of oil-slicked rust--he paused, and found it... hatching.

It was time, then. Vargas took a breath, and sat close. And as an afterthought, he called the Agate over. "Agate One-? The other version of you is hatching." He called because he thought Dhracia might know. That she would simply appear, summoned by the crack in this secondary chrysalis. He wanted them both there, these Agates--there for her perusal, her choice. Would she take one? Both? Would this newest one be a mutated mess; would the older be beneath her standards?

Vargas took a breath and tucked these worries away. He'd done his best and he was-... fairly confident with the first output. The second, well-... That remained to be seen.

This thread is for Vadette, for "Scout III" who will be DM'd by Navy, and for *checks packing slip* one Lord Dhracia

@Vedette @Game Master Navy @Game Master Madison

strong language

She'd been trapped trapped trapped here in this stupid cave, the walls too small to hold her sheer rage despite the size of them. At least Chaos-Two had managed to keep her in line somewhat, though injuries had still happened, though mostly to her.

Vedette whipped her head around to face Vargas with a hiss, hunched over something, half-hidden behind a rock, "Not my name, grape-face."

She picked up her shard of chrysalis, swiped from Vagina- Vjira and made her way over, plumage starting to line her bare wings. Her face was as angry as ever, her eyes blazing with constant rage, the voices in her head swearing nearly as much as she did.

"Bastard," she sat, sitting down beside Vargas, "If you call me my name, I'll call you your name, deal?"

She didn't expect the asshole to respond or even consider her request. Her request. She hadn't said please but at least she hadn't called him a name in the sentence. That was the best Vargas was going to get, probably.

"I bet it's ugly," she said, "At least you didn't fuck up with me like you did your other stupid fucking creations. Stupid and useless. Have any of them killed anything except for Dracougly? No? Thought so."

Vedette glared at the rock, at her clone. She was the best one out of all of these idiots, and yet she hadn't been unleashed. Why?! She was perfect!

"I hope it's deformed like that fucking Twobutt," she scoffed, "That would be great. Maybe it'd take you a notch or two down, imagine that."

Sitting still wasn't going to happen, so she left her shard and paced, irritated and bored out of her skull. Chaos-Two's meaningless lessons were just bullshit. Screw practice, just release her into a crowd of Gembound and let her tear out some throats! What better way to learn than to get right into the thick of it? But of course Vargas wanted all of her brilliant destruction contained while Draconua was out burning down Pegasus. Because Vargas was stupid.

"Stupid," she said aloud, staying carefully out of range of those long arms.

No, she wouldn't run, and she cooperated with her babysitter, so he had no real reason to grab her and hurt her. Maybe he'd yell, but she reasoned that would be it. It was funny to get reactions out of him anyway.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

And there it was, the incessant yammering. His head swung around, jerking to her in disbelief at the initial insult. The "grape-face" thing. Her tone was enough to know it was an insult: acidic, abrasive. "Bastard" already had him in motion, one massive arm swinging around for a strike.

If it struck, it would probably knock her out.

And that was his intent: Vargas was not a prideful being, but he had his place, and if the tiny creature wanted to play "chaos monster who did not take shit," well... Vargas could do that better. If those were her rules, then he would play by them.

There was no warning, just a lash at immense speed mid-sentence. It wouldn't hit, if it hit, hard enough to crush her skull... but possibly enough for a concussion.

Dhracia could take the thing. He'd had enough of it. "Continue," he purred, "and I will see how well I digest your quills." If she dodged--and if she continued--he intended to put that into practice.

The rest of whatever yammering she attempted, if his strike would not hit, would only prompt further retribution. He would not lose control of this little monster; this nest was in his hands, and this little shit would not be setting such examples.

@Vedette

(and then I'll wait)

strong language

Oh she knew this was coming. Her quills were up (they always were now, just in case) and she barely managed to bare her teeth before she tried to leap for it, red eyes chock full of anger. Her instinct was to lash out, to ensure she snagged his hand and bit down even if she was punished more, but she'd never leave if she did that.

Vedette felt his claws graze her quills, her heart stopping for that one moment before she tumbled to the ground, growling at him, tail lashing back and forth.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath, backing away and keeping a very respectful distance.

Her butt was planted on the ground and her mouth snapped shut, her tail lashing in agitation behind her. Oh how she hoped he suddenly dropped dead. That would be fantastic, for she could finally run away and cause all the destruction she yearned for.

Hatred seeped from her blood red eyes, Vedette's anger untamed. Respect most likely would never come, not until a purpose was granted.

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

Throughout all its development, the agate'd been quiet. Its iridescence-slicked shell was warm to the touch, but the neonate within was still and silent; no matter how often Vargas came to babysit the chrysalis. It was a blissful silence, occupied only by the various Forgers milling about. He'd be begging for sweet release as soon as this one came squirming from their shell—which, as he swung at the first agate, was about now.

Nostrils flared open and a splitting jaw yawned wide. Gemstone split and out tumbled an anticlimatic little lump. The pin feathers were all present and just barely capable of fluttering flight and its fur (all fur?!) was matted down by black fluid that immediately started to evaporate. Where bulging, babyish eyes might've been, there were only heat-sensing pits.

They lifted their head, swinging around to regard all the new sensations going on around them. Stumpy, shaky limbs carried them right out of the remains of their chrysalis and a few steps towards the massive thing that radiated waves of heat. Springbok ears cupped straight forward.

The Leviathan'd done an excellent job of writing character into these agates, because—upon awakening—this one instantly caught all those foreign, naughty words that the other was saying. This one, too, immediately gleaned their meanings and started to bark some out, one by one: "Fuck! Shit! Stupid-ass! Fucking!"

They paused to sniff, then whirled around to regard the other thing there. The newborn arched their back as high as it could go, like it could intimidate Vedette, and spat right at her, "fucked! You're fucked! You're going down!"

How?

The agate did not know. They weren't making any true advances; just spitting and swearing from their spot, repeating the same three words and their various permutations over and over.