Queen's note: -shoves a few things into the chapter– small nod to a favorite fic of mine n.n also… eggies!

Garnets

Chapter Fifty Seven:

Morning Exercise

Dawn was finally starting to come, the light shifting from the red tint of moonlight to gray tones mixing together that peeked through the nest. It was both familiar but not quite right now to the Slayer as he watched outside by a small gap of space between his old mount's body and wing. Absentmindedly rubbing his knuckles against the thick hide of the wintherin neck along the stripes like he once did.

The Slayer was still amazed how the massive native Argent D'nur creatures could curl up and tuck themselves into their nests. It kept the eggs, hatchlings, or riders warm… like it used to be like. He remembered many nights much like this after the haze of hell had faded. Not always with his mount, as she had not been hatched back then.

More than a few times Valen's wife had found this strange outlander had been kidnapped by a sulking wintherin that wanted to cuddle and just… liked the Slayer for some reason.

He never understood that, but he also was not against it.

The Slayer paused, trying to remember what Valen's wife's name had been. He frowned and stilled, then remembered partly. It was… something sweet, like a type of native berry. He remembered her soul more, seeing it, catching the honey color and the steady even strength needed for raising wintherin.

The Slayer looked down, smoothing a hand over his helmet that was beside him to help keep cool with his chest plate loosen on the top. Bemused, as he had been slowly shoved and tugged until he was in the bottom center of the nest and now had three shimmering eggs in his lap. That bioluminescent glow from wintherin eggs was always so pretty to him. He ran his hands over each egg again, finding that they were still leathery soft, so they were not that old.

The Slayer paused and carefully shifted through the bottom of the nest with one hand. Bumping his helmet and caught a glimpse of gold as it rolled. That had the demigod pausing and picking up the helmet and tilting it to use the faint glow to see what had been put in his helmet.

It was a marker, or a paint marker? It had been completely dry so that was why he had not caught a new smell. The demigod could just scrape it off with a thumb, as it was not anything permanent, but did not. Instead the Slayer recognized the handwriting and smiled. He remembered how Lily had made off with his helmet when he was distracted getting the rest of his armor on. Not that the Slayer minded as Lily just stayed on the bridge with it.

The Slayer hummed, smiling fondly before brushing his fingers over the crucible at his side. Fredrick did a good job raising his (…their?) daughter with his wife.

…contentment-pride…

Sleepy emotions leaked through the bond and made the not quiet man chuckle again. The Slayer touched the little letters in the far back of his helmet, careful not to smudge them.

'John D. Hawkins'

He could not squish his human in a hug right then, so settled for giving the eggs in his lap gentle strokes with a half smile. He glanced up, his wintherin was still breathing slowly and seemed to be asleep if not just settled. Setting his helmet aside, John reached back down, finding an old, not very hard fragment of a shell from the last hatching. Moving slowly so as not to disturb Viola, and get bit again as he was finally healed, he picked up the Last Gift next.

Turning the crucible over in his hands he lined the fragment of shell up with the dark gray metal of the hilt. The shell fragment was not exactly white, more of a silvery-yellow color. It would not match the same color of the blade but might be nice. If it could not work, he would have to ask Valen, maybe for the rifle. John carefully picked out several more forgotten bits of hardened egg shell and put them in a pocket/pouch that did not have anything. Almost for this reason, for when the demigod found random bits, small things he liked or needed.

If it would not be so risky, and even more unlikely in all reality, John had an amusing thought of tucking his favorite humans in a pocket to keep with him. Or under his armor to be safe against his strength.

The Slayer paused, shifted to pick up and eyed the crucible by the hilt guard.

The living weapon gave something like what would have been a snort-giggle over the bond. The Last Gift was trying to muffle it, trying to hide it, and that it had woken up now. His crucible was still made from a human-gorgon soul, but clearly had that strange sense of humor that came from a human. It seemed to be triggering that same humor in him.

Confusion…hunger?

The Slayer lightly tossed the crucible up in the air, letting it twist in the air before catching it. His hand wrapped around the hilt instead of holding the guard. Orange tinted energy cracked down his forearm and then fed his own energy into the Last Gift until sensing it was satisfied, but not 'full.' He would be likely feeding it demons today.

There was a huff of warm air and then a large tongue swiped over the back of his head and down the back of the Slayer's shoulder. Viola had woken up, and was checking on her eggs and her person. There was an inquisitive sound, despite her anger the day before. She still wanted to know if her rider approved of, and liked her newest eggs.

The Slayer hooked his crucible back to his thigh as there was a shifting above. He took a moment to clearly cup each shimmering egg between his palms. Giving them each a low, approving sound and then reaching back to rub the underside of a big jaw as the wintherin wedged the side of her big head against his back now, between him and the nest wall.

He chuckled, pretty sure the big female was going to have a kink in her neck if not careful. The Slayer stretched, carefully shifting the eggs from on top of his lap to cradle between his legs. It took a few minutes to coax Viola to let him go, as he could not give vocal commands. The Slayer had to push his will on the wintherin with just a bit of his power to get the message across. As well as bodily lifting her off him when Viola tried to pin the Demigod down with her chest.

The wintherin grunted and made a startled sound but gave in and shifted to let her person climb out of the nest. Grumbling, staring at him sitting on the edge of the nest before daring to lean forward to start grooming at the Slayer's legs. Pausing only to sniff at the bare crucible hilt as a large hand rubbed against her crest, and then gave a deep sigh at the familiar motion.

Viola missed her rider.

The Slayer set his helmet to the side, grabbing the big head and pressed his own against it until the wintherin was laying her head in his lap now with tusks on either side of him. The demigod could look around, reaching out with that sense that let him pick out where the Sentinels were. Much like him having spent most of the night in a wintherin's nest in the box canyon, his Sentinels were in different nests. Not all would have eggs, as the Slayer could see somewhat smaller wintherin that came back to their mother's territory for safety.

Haco was with that white male across the canyon, completely out in a deep healing sleep it seemed like. Asin was the center of the box canyon around mid level, feeling settled, maybe asleep as well. Zanin was to… the Slayer scanned at the entrance of the box canyon, to his left as there were distant sounds and flashes of light from another spot in the hatching grounds.

The Demigod patted the big head firmly, picking up his helmet. Climbing out of the nest to sad grumbling, but he walked down the rough walking path along the rocky walls until he stood beside the taller Zanin.

"It's some kind of demon," Zanin said calmly, not whispering but not letting his voice travel. One his left hand on the broad head of a big gray male wintherim, his right holding the heavily modified ballista weapon that the Slayer gave Zanin after the Wretched incident. He used his left hand to point to a flurry of distant movement, five pale wintherins were arching into the air again. "They've been starting to try and get into the hatching grounds for the last hour. They have some sort of wings. I was wondering why the wintherin here have notable shift patterns of watching. Look outs."

"Hmm…" the Slayer squinted almost glowing blue eyes in the half light. Seeing how three of the creatures broke off to start breathing the plasma looking energy fire along the top canyon walls in the area. While something large enough to just see, but smaller than the wintherin was thrown higher up to give the other two creatures time to start ripping it apart. It did have extra, flapping but tattered limbs on it before starting to be burned into death char.

There was a rustling of movement above, it had both Zanin and the Slayer looking up then scanning the darkness. The not quiet man rolled his shoulders and put his helmet back on, waiting for Zanin to follow suit before they moved almost in tandem. It felt good to have Sentinels at his side, someone that if not as strong as him, could hold their own and knew how to pace him.

The Slayer made his way down closer to the ground level, listening and watching…

There.

Movement.

Zanin tensed, coiling as he waited for the right cue as something slinked out from under a bush. Without speaking, he signed, trusting his wark King to catch the Argenta sign. Gargoyles.

The Slayer snorted softly, he remembered those things. Annoying acid spitters, even before they were actively being warped and mutated by hell. All things considered the smaller un-corrupted version was annoying too. He shifted, fingers brushing the Last Gift before changing his mind. Waiting with the wintherin above as the pack of gargoyels started to filter into the box canyon, waiting for the whole pack before trying to make a launch at the nests.

Yellow eyes were glittering in the half light, trying to pick what nest to go after as another big gray wintherin was gliding down from behind and towards the opening of the box canyon. This was definitely something the wintherins had to deal with before and this group at least had all adults that were trained as war mounts. They were setting a trap, even without their Sentinels.

Both were proud of the wintherins.

Yet they might need some help on timing. The Slayer shifted faintly and then launched forward. Aiming to the middle of the park of altered animal-demons as he could withstand the eruption of fire-like streams from several points on the canyon walls. Zanin moved to cut off the path in front of the demons as that second gray wintherin (one of Viola's daughters?) was washing the entrance of the box canyon in that same 'fire.'

It was a wonderful chaotic few moments that was the needed exercise to get blood moving in the morning. Though his sentinel may not think completely the same, the Slayer flashed a smile as he watched Zanin having to use his full strength to break a gargoyle's leg. Planting a foot on its back and shooting the demon behind the head, it took two shots to end it and the creature to dissolve into death char.

The Slayer shook himself free of icy crystals after a blast of cold from one of the wintherins. Grinning as he found two demons frozen solid mid motion, one falling stiffly forward and the other about to launch with stubby wings. While lifted a foot and brought it down in the one face down in front of him, feeling the partly demon give an icy crunch and then a wet pop before turning into ash.

It was satisfying.

The second frozen demon was vibrating in its prison, yellow eyes still glowing as the Unchained Predator of Hell loomed over it next before grabbing the frozen head with a grin.

Zanin looked up as a shot of acid harmlessly splattered on the sealed armor of his right arm. Had he just heard squealing in the fog that was now spiraling up? He lifted the ballista weapon and fired point black at a wounded demon that was already half burned by wintherin fire. There was a sense of movement before that jade colored male came down in a half landing. Grabbing a bigger gargoyle and launching back up into the air to start ripping it to pieces.

The Argenta man was almost disappointed as the skirmish was ending rapidly. Almost. He still had a good sizable bruise on his left hip from the Slayer in that sparring match the day before. As well as having seven angry adult wintherins adding to the defense, it was effective.

One gargoyle left launched upwards, dodging bigger jaws and made a dive at an nest, acid spilling from its jaws. Only for Asin to come out of the shadows and fire the shotgun he had been given at the demon. A rock was thrown at the same time from the fog to hit it hard enough that something cracked.

Zanin laughed as he came over, planting a heavy foot on the gargoyle's back. Stopping the finishing blow at hearing the primordial behind him.

Want.

The Sentinel paused, then grasped at the first wing. Hooking his weapon on his back, and then grabbing the other stubby wing to wrenched with all the strength Zanin had. The demon screamed, trying to flail but with a bigger and heavy body on its back it could not. The discounted wings were turning to char as the Slayer came up. The taller man smirked inside his helmet, and shifted only once his king grasped the creature's head and pulled it up.

The Slayer growled low, as he let some power crackle over his hand as he grasped one of the split lower sections of the jaw on the gargoyle. He twisted the part free and dropped the demon to examine the metal fused into the jaw bone. It had metal teeth added as well.

Modified demons, but not like they were in hell. The metal was too smooth, too shiny, too new.

The writhing demon was trying to crawl away, scrambling in the dirt until Asin landed in front of it. Partly on the gargoyle, its left arm broke under the Heavy's weight. Planting his other foot on its head as the free arm and blade-like paddle flailed in the dirt. "What did you notice my lord?"

The Slayer frowned, turning the jaw part around in his hand before tossing it to Zanin. He glanced at the demon and snorted.

Asin aimed the shotgun in his left hand at the broken gargoyle, feeling it buck. Stepping through the death ash after to come see what it was, while the wintherins were dispersing after scenting around.

"This isn't Argenta made mental." Zanin noted, running his hands over the metallic parts of the jaw bone. Making sure the sensors in his gloves could get a good reading for Vega. He had the best tactile sensors that the AI could pick up.

"It's titanium." Vega spoke to all four, having kept Haco looped in to watch and listen to the brief fight from where he was pinned now in a nest. "Partly, it seems to be a mix of titanium and another hell forged metal."

The Slayer frowned, looking at the jaw part. Saw something like that on earth.

"Considering how much of earth was consumed?" Asin tilted his head, taking the offered jaw part to look over himself, "It took some time for Argenta made metals to start showing up in hell. At least before the Maykrs started feeding the Argenta souls and living to hell."

A growl left the Slayer, he did not seem to like either that fact. The memory of finding those dying but forced to live and work slaves. Or that hell was getting a good grip on earth. Likely all the above.

Did you find saddles? The shorter demigod looked between the two Sentinels.

Zanin nodded, "We'll have to modify one for your wintherin my Lord. but they are in good condition."

"Shall I go save Haco?" Asin asked, glancing at where Viola was finally stretching out if her defense of her nest. "While you convince her to leave her eggs to come with us?"

The Slayer made a soft sound, something like a drawn out grunt and groan in the back of his throat. He rolled his shoulders, making sure his muscles were healed fully. Save my Sentinel.

"Still want to do this?" Zanin asked, his tone amused as he looked up at the biggest of all the wintherin present as she started to fan her wings to sun herself, one of the older offspring were taking her place to guard and incubate. He watched as the War King seemed to squint at the middle distance.

The Slayer growled and started walking back the way they had come. Zanin was glad his smile was not visible, but the slight shift in the other's stride was the only hint that his faith in his king was felt. Zanin could have sworn he heard a faint purr like sound not from the wintherin. ''Shall we save Haco from being nested on?"

"Please do." Haco spoke for the first time in the new communication system in their helmets.

Asin could have sworn he heard Vega chuckle.

Reviews!

XFireStoneX: soon! XD also, doomdad is getting a sweater, big enough he can be comfortable and then drown one of his humans in it if he drops it on them XD

added, holy frag, hello to all the new frends following Garnets!