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General Serpentine did not know why he patrolled tonight. Perhaps because he could not sit in the hospital room any longer without denying Richard the recovery time he clearly needed. Perhaps because he was still unaccustomed to living in his apartment again and patrolling, for over a year, had been a means of escaping from his shop for a little while. Perhaps because he simply needed to feel the icy tendrils of Chaos spread from his heart to his extremities and remind him of his power, his earned place within the organization that originally given him the Dark Gift.

"Ssstarsssseed?"

The light hissing from his companion was met with a reassuring pat to her hood. Stheno had not been taken out of the Rift in some time, and it wasno wonder that she would emerge hungry. "Soon. Investigate first. Hold on."

The Naga's delicate arms curled around his neck. The coolness of her scaled skin was comforting, reminscient of the wet rag he rested against his neck on a hot summer's day, and her weight was surprisingly light given her length. While Stheno had many wonderful attributes and advantages, her lack of legs and strong upper body strength made scaling buildings hard, if not impossible, without his assistance. When he felt a powerful aura of Chaos, then, from atop the water tower, it was up to him to carry his youma up to the top.

The view from the water tower was exceptional. Aircraft lights blinked in the distance, an earthly substitute for the stars that were currently hidden behind the night's clouds. The distant park added a dot of green on the horizon, while the nearby garden offered the perfurme of various flowers. The season had confused the growing season with its shifts from morning frosts to evening sweats, but nature was nothing if not persistant. A trait that the officer before him certainly shared.

He waited until Stheno had her tail firmly planted on the top of the tower before turning his attention to said officer. His greeting was cool, a marked improvement from the venomous it had been in meetings previous, "Bischofite."

Stheno had slid into striking position - close enough for her venom to arc the distance to the other man’s eyes, far enough to potentially dodge any follow up attack. Thin lips peeled back to reveal fangs whenever the name fell. Her lidless eyes looked over the General, and she parroted, “Bischofite? Charge. Will not blind or bite.” It had been months ago that the words had been spoken to her, and she had never had a face to put to that name... but the orders had not been rescinded. She did not like to share attention and only begrudgingly slid away.

The youma standing with the general held Stheno’s rapt attention now. She had sworn not to attack Bischofite and had remembered. The youma, however, was a new factor. The wings were large and perhaps what set off the initial hissing - predator birds were no friends of snakes, either on Earth or in the Rift. The gaping mouths bothered her not at all, for those in the Rift routinely lived with such embellishments, but the bone accessory? That spoke of time and intent as malicious as her name. In response, Stheno stretched up to her full height to accent her size and the curve of her hood. She coiled possessively, jealously around her master and waited impatiently for their departure time. She was hungry and wanted to enjoy all that this city had to offer before her energy ran out and she had to leave it again. The longer they stayed here, the fewer treats for her.

Serpentine made no motion to control her actions, though he place a hand atop her head to soothe her distress. To the question given, he responded, “Stheno. I had thought for you to meet her sooner; it did not become necessary.” It was the only explanation he would provide on that account. There was no need to speak now of the time when Bischofite was under his thumb. Both of them had outgrown it. His disgust for the other officer had mellowed - merely vinegar, where once there had been poison. He still did not trust, or even truly like, the other officer. Yet it seemed that they had come to an understanding of their differences. An understanding not to murder might not seem much but… it was better.

On the compliment to his rank, the rainbow-haired man could not help but preen, at least a bit. The recognition of his achievement and the perception of his worth were ever ways to put the vain man into a more malleable mood. “It should always have been so. Buddingtonite stood with me to ascend together.” It would not have been fair not to have mentioned his partner. Yet, he felt his neck stiffen after doing so. He should not have mentioned his friend at all, given his current state. Not before someone as perceptive as Bischofite.

He quickly changed the subject to one more common between them. “Do you hunt?” He could think of few other reasons to stand atop the water tower other than its vantage point, and he doubted Bischofite was there for the view. It was only doubt, however, because one of the truths he had come to accept was that Bischofite’s mind worked far differently than his own.

The comment that he was viewing the city earned Bischofite an understanding nod. "Then you scheme," Serpentine stated flatly. It was a simple comment without a hint of judgment, indeed perhaps over simple for as complicated a mind as that of his fellow officer. However, that was how the florist had learned to categorize his actions. Whether as Bischofite or Alois, the dark-haired man schemed and hunted. He could not imagine Bischofite doing anything less. Planning may have, perhaps, been a less caustic word to use, and certainly one justly earned. He had planned several large assaults on their enemies and if said assaults were not tarnished by the fact that Krishna had been dragged in as prey, the taciturn man might have even admitted that such plans were... commendable.

Less so were his companion's continued attitude towards partnership. Or perhaps it was simply the reminder of Richard's condition in the hospital--and the one responsible for it--that made Serpentine's hand curl into a fist. He tried to accept the comment as merely the compliment it appeared to be. It was true. The two of them had grown, struggled, and become a deadly team by their own hands, despite the pitfalls in their way and all attempts to split them. But the mental image of the brand on his partner's hand was too frustrating not to comment on, as he spat, "Others should follow our example, but do not. They play childish games that rip bonds apart or merely waste time; they strike down those who do stand together. At least your warped motivations are not so... petty."

It was more than he intended to say, but Malicious provided an excellent means of focusing his attention elsewhere. He had not seen her approach until she reached for his sleeve. He reflexively recoiled, his gaze shooting down at her. The smile was too devious for his taste, but at least she spoke a language he could understand. Youmas craving starseeds was a normal part of his world. He shook his head, "Not yet."

Serpentine may have accepted the second youma's presence with ease, but Stheno was an entirely different matter. Her only reaction to the ghoulish greeting was to coil more tightly, her scales sliding across her master's skin in constant reminder of her presence. When Malicious came to close, the cobra's fangs immediately were bared, dripping venom but not spitting. Not yet. Instead, weak arms positioned themselves around the general's neck and a single warning was given to back off, "Not for you... MINE!"

Serpentine freed himself while Bischofite spoke, indicating his wishes with a simple touch to Stheno’s hood. Her scales could only offer so much comfort. She hissed sullenly but obeyed, reluctantly uncoiling although her eyes remained pinned on the other youma. The green-and-gold clad General did not acknowledge Malicious at all. He paced the top of the water tower for an appropriate place to sit, but it was far too filthy a thing to truly consider it. Besides, with the other general present it was better to keep to his feet. Status aside, the freedom of movement would be needed if an enemy were foolish enough to try and interrupt them. Or if their conversation turned caustic and bubbled over into something else, as it had in the past. Ultimately, his walking ended next to the needle-like structure that marked the center of the water tower, and this he leaned against as he listened.

There was more that they agreed on, these days, than they had previous. The intrinsic pettiness the other described was one that he had witnessed more and more as his tenure grew. He scoffed at the boy’s statement regarding his relationship with his partner. “Of course not. You did not know of it. Yet, your methods dismissed such a bond between us.” It was not said with any regret. It was simply a statement of fact.

Because, even now, the core difference between them stubbornly remained. Richard was ever a touchy subject between them, but it was merely the point where their two clashing philosophies emerged. Their views on suffering and pain could not be more different, even if both believed it needed to be endured. ’What does he know of pain? Endurance and tenacity he may have, but it is a bramble’s life. Interweaving around himself, he stabs and chokes… and calls his efforts metamorphosis. Am I expected to emulate this? Ignore the poor soil, allow some to be ignorantly crushed underfoot? Allow them to stab me, so that I may ‘grow’? Even when we agree… we cannot agree.’

The laughter that bubbled from his lips was thick and sharp as ever as Serpentine shook his head. “No, Bischofite. Endured pain contributes to growth, but not alone. A gardener cannot cut blindly. When you plant seeds, you must give them what they need - be it sun, or soil, support, or space. Cut off imperfections, head as necessary, yes, but those actions alone? Death. Richard bloomed in spite of his trials, not because of them.”

Why did he keep talking? Was it to try and wash away the taste that lingered in his mouth like coffee with too much chicory? No, for if anything that heat and bitterness colored his words, raspy as they were from the effort it took to articulate what, for him, was a speech. “I know. He went in my stead. To cull weeds. To support rightful vengeance. For this, we are marked traitors. Despite all we have given and endured.”

‘All we have suffered.’

His burning lungs demanded he take breath now. His fire smoldered. When he spoke again, there was a clear softening of his tone, and his gaze fell to the city as well. He would not look Bischofite in the eye, should even more weakness linger there. He owed the other general no further explanation, but the words came unbidden to his tongue to further incriminate him. “He is safe in the hospital.”

Stheno had been left to her own devices around Malicious. With no orders, other than the one to release her master, she felt free to act as she felt. Currently? She was pretty annoyed. Her tongue yearned for the sweetness of a starseed, her space had been invaded by another, just as powerful youma. A sour disposition from hunger and jealousy that her hunt had been disrupted led her to spit. The venom arched the distance between them, clearly aimed for the winged youma’s face.