ORIGIN

"Not too close," he warned her gently, though he was ready to reach for her and pull her back with magic if she disregarded him. He knew what the Spire could do, and his gaze remained warily trained on the fawn even as she stopped quite a distance off.

"That's the Spire," he told her, drawing up closer himself. He came up alongside her, tilting his head back to peer up, its light igniting his face in its shimmering glow. "I don't think anyone knows what it is, not really--perhaps the Masters do; but it's very powerful, and certainly a reservoir for strong magics. Can you feel it in the air, here-?" he asked Acheron, glancing down at her.

Her language had improved in the past few days, mostly with his help, and they were able to actually hold basic conversations now instead of having to rely upon the stilted words of a new hatch.

But he still didn't want to overwhelm her, as he knew he had a tendency to do; so he waited, studying her for the moment.

She looked... healthy, happy enough. That was good, and Pride mused that he might be able to teach her fairly easily if he kept it light. Then again, maybe she'd like a challenge-? He'd learned very quickly with this child that she wasn't all as she seemed. What he'd thought was callous fierceness had proven to be toughness instead, when she'd chosen to rely on plants instead of meat and spared potential prey. He hadn't guessed that she would do that, so he hesitated to simply predict her now. It was an unusual situation for the white stag: usually he could assess someone relatively accurately and work from there, but with Acheron, he'd have to rely on her word.

"A reservoir is... a storage. Like a lake, but for magic in this case." He wasn't entirely sure, really--he had no dictionary to look things up, only a strange and innate knowledge of words. Perhaps I should see if there are any books that speak of such things, at the Palace, he thought--he'd heard they had books there, and he was one of those struggling to learn to read.

"This place is unstable, magically. There is more of it about, which can make it easier to draw on, but harder to control. It's a good place to practice: if you can control your power here, you can do it anywhere." Except Cetus, he mused, sourly, but didn't say. He'd always found Cetus somehow dampening on his power, and he'd never found out why.

"So, there are a few things that I can teach you. I'm thinking I will start off by teaching you how to defend yourself--with a shield, a barrier--and then we can practice hitting stones, and then each other. What do you think?" he asked, peering at her.

Pride glanced up at the Spire in some surprise. Take a piece-? he thought. His gut instinct, his knee-jerk reaction, was to simply say "no." The Spire melted people. Who was to say that a small piece wouldn't have the same effect? And how would one chip a little piece off, anyway? It was a huge slab of crystal atop crystal, a tower of it. Lastly, the Masters protected this thing. He'd heard what happened with Astraea the last time someone had tried to damage it.

But on the other hand, there were smaller bits here and there, and Pride's curiosity was immediately piqued. Once upon a time, he'd spent weeks examining, questioning and testing all sorts of scientific theories alongside an old friend--someone, actually, whom he hadn't seen in quite some time. Plants and lessers, magic and the Spire itself. He gazed up, recalling having stood here long ago--Amras quite close by--as he thrust his mind for the Spire.

He remembered its ominous, reverberating grief thrumming in his mind: 'Death is a lie. Pain is eternal,' over and over.

Harming it is probably not the best idea, he concluded, that memory rising up as if fresh. To Acheron, however, he said: "...Perhaps we can try, if we can find a smaller piece farther from the main structure, but it might be dangerous." He'd warned her before they'd come not to get too close to it, warned her it was somehow sentient or that something inside was, so there was no point repeating that now.

Instead he turned away, and changed the topic.

"As for barriers-... Come this way, a little away from the Spire, please." He strode off a distance, and turned sidelong to it, so that neither of their backs were to the Spire--the last thing he wanted was a strong Dispel to throw one or the other of them into its disintegrating magics.

Pride took a breath, and fought down the sudden--and surprising--nervousness that briefly spiked in him. Their magic was dangerous, yes, but--that wasn't it. It was more a social fear, a recognition of the responsibility on his shoulders. These first lessons would lay the foundation for all Acheron's learning later in life--magical learning, at least. He feared making a mistake.

He exhaled, and nodded, gathering himself and pushing that worry away. Focus, he told himself. If anyone can do this well, it's me. A bit arrogant, perhaps, but he thought it fairly true, and it was steadying. "I will explain this magic, and I will cast it; I want you to pay attention and do your best to replicate it when I'm done. All right? We'll start with defensive magic, two sorts--it's less dangerous than offensive, and it's good to have your defensives ready should you ever fight. It's important to keep yourself safe; you can't fight if you're too injured." Or dead.

He stepped back. "Ready?" he asked, and waited a beat; when she seemed ready he nodded, and gathered his magic slowly. "This shield is something intrinsic to the Seven. We all learn it, and we can use it to protect ourselves, or to protect others. Watch closely," he went on.

"First, you gather up your magicka. You need to form it-..." Pride faltered as he realized the magic had not responded. He sighed through his nose. "...Well, give me a moment; I've--ahh, made a mistake somewhere."

"Like a shield," Pride answered, without thinking--then blinked and corrected himself, releasing his second attempt at creating it in favor of paying attention to Acheron's question, and his own answer. "Err--a wall between you and the enemy, or the source of danger. I shape mine like a half a circle--a dome--to protect my front and sides," he explained. "And 'intrinsic' is something innate--err." Simplify, he told himself, dryly amused. "Something that's part of something, by its very nature."

He focused again on his magic, taking a step back and sweeping his ears forward, then going quite still as he concentrated.

Again nothing came, and he glanced up at the Spire. "Let's move just a little farther away... I think this is interfering with my magic a bit too much." There was wry amusement in his voice.

He turned and paced a few yards farther off, so that the crackle and spark of power wasn't quite so strong--it wouldn't be as good to practice against in terms of volatility, but that was hardly a starting point for a child regardless.