ORIGIN - Someone Has Something to Answer For

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-Envy unexits-

The weasel didn't respond to Pride's calls, but they were not far away. They had left the Throne and found a miniscule hollow between two well-worn bricks. And in there, they had huddled, softly sobbing. They weren't going to come out anytime soon, but if Pride listened, he would hear their tiny voice sobbing, sniffling, mere metres away, struggling to not be heard.

In all their adult life they had never cried like this, and the weasel was so small that they could have been, by anyone else, easily mistaken for a crying child.

But they were not.

They were better than this. They were too old for this. And yet still they cried, struggling to keep it quiet enough that their emotional outburst would not be heard by anyone; not even by Pride.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride lay there for a few moments before the faint sound reached him--inconstant, very very soft, but now and again it touched his sensitive ears.

He lifted his head, lying still for a moment to try and pinpoint it better. For a moment he started to push up to go over, and realized that even the rustle of his own legs was too loud to hear over. Settling back down, he let his magicka go in his stead--a drifting image of him, searching, peering, soundless. When he was fairly certain that he'd found the source, he pushed up, and quietly made his way over, letting the other-him fade into nothing.

"Envy..?" he said softly, toward the hole in the bricks. "Are you all right? ...Would you rather be left alone?"

He didn't want to leave Envy alone, but... if they asked him to go, then he would respect their wishes. He just hoped that they were all right.

None of this looked good.

@Livius

Envy tensed as the sound of Pride's hooves drew ever nearer, their sobs fading slightly as they struggled to hold their breaths. As he spoke, a small sniffle could be heard. And then...

"I'm fine," they croaked unconvincingly.

They paused, taking a sharp intake of breath as they got ready to spit that yes, they would like to be alone, and that they didn't need company. After all, they didn't want Pride to see them like this; already their skin crawled and quills trembled with embarrassment. But the words quickly died in their throat.

The silence was suffocating, the sides of them that wanted quiet, and the side that feared being left alne reaching an uncomfortable stalemate. "...I don't know," they whispered finally. And then, as if to voice their discomfort, they spoke again, aimed at nobody in particular. "This is stupid."

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride sighed.

Their victory, it seemed, had been at best bittersweet... and the cost for Envy had been far higher. It was hard for him--and he found himself a little frustrated--in that he could not quite understand the weasel's depth of emotion. He had, though he did not know it, the ability to become precisely the monster that Wilder had seen in him, though he was a long way off from that, and though it would take much to push him so terribly far. But his distance of emotion meant that he could not quite comprehend Envy's half-broken misery. He grasped the stress, of course, the horror of it all, but to him it was more distant, and had been a necessary evil, and one with an acceptable (if not the best possible, of course) outcome.

"I'm sorry," he settled on saying, at last, and hesitated. At length he lay down, lowering himself to rest in silence for a time beside the weasel's hiding place.

By "this is stupid," Envy had perhaps meant their own reactions--but Pride wouldn't have thought so, and so he understood it differently. "It is all foolish," he agreed softly, "but none of it is our fault. We have done the best we could, and-... My intention was to make it quick, Envy. A gem spike to her heart, though I do not know if you could see that. Perhaps the caves, perhaps fate itself, decided that she must taste some measure of the suffering she'd inflicted on others, before the end." His voice was quiet.

"You are a good person, I think. There are some who might do what we have done and rejoice over it, but you do what must be done to protect others, and you grieve for it, regardless. I am sorry for the burden that you bear, but I thank you for being willing to bear it. --I am speaking too much-... I will be still, and stay here with you if you prefer it."

@Livius

The weasel remained quiet for a time as Pride began speaking, only the soft snivelling sound emerging whenever the deer took a moment of hesitation or pause. Her words, rather than helping to acerbate the situation, soothed them, at least, into more of a self-pitying emptiness than the tense emotion of a few moments ago. "I know," they said, reluctantly, their voice low, and grim. "I thought it was a direct hit. And the black hole, it... well..." they paused, a soft shiver passing over them. "...It worked last time."

First Elderberry, and then Blackberry. At least, despite his gruesome end, the hybrid's death had been quick. He had been dragged in, the crushing blow dealt had been only one. There had been no blood and only one bout of mangled screaming.

Then it was over.

As Pride continued, the feeling changed-- and this time, they felt an unmistakable, guilty ache stealing into the pit of their stomach. You are a good person. Envy Clung to the deer's words. But they suddenly felt as though, for the first time in their life, Pride was wrong. The ever-present suspicion in the back of their mind that everything they did was wrong, stung. Almost everything they did, well, it was always to impress him.. And because they knew that so long as they were next to Pride, no harm would come to them. He was too careful for that, too strong. They had always, always been a pretender; and somewhere along the line they had even convinced Pride, too. Even though he was a beautiful epitome of grace, worth and the moral high ground.

He was everything they could never be.

And by following them, the white deer brought himself down to their level. The level of the tiny liar, cheat and desperate power-seeker that always lived in his shadow.

Why?

"Why do you do this to yourself, Pride?" they asked, eventually. "Surely you'd prefer to be king."

...You'd be far better at it than me. That part went unspoken, but the suggestion was still there.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride tilted his head in immediate surprise, peering down at Envy. He very nearly blurted his real thoughts--why would he want to be a king? There was no appeal in it for him. Hell, he'd never understood why Envy wanted to be one, either. But-... That might be a little insulting, he realized. Carefully, he sought tact in his reply.

"I have no desire for it," he began, slowly. "Nothing in the idea of being a King appeals to me, I suppose? I believe in gathering others and protecting the caves, yes--in learning, advancing ourselves--but I feel no need to be the one leading any of it. I am perfectly happy contributing." He paused, and then added--"I believe I have asked you, before, why you yourself wished it. I still do not truly understand."

But some part of him had an inkling. Envy wanted admiration. Approval. They envied being powerful, looked up to, important. Pride had never felt the need; he was secure in himself, in who he was, in his own attempts to be the best person that he himself could be. Envy had always felt themselves to be less than they truly were, and felt some drive, he believed, to elevate themselves higher--as if they felt the need to prove that they held something worthwhile.

Pride had always hoped that the weasel would learn their own value, some day. Their own strength, their own worth. But it seemed that every setback, even when triumphed over, only left them more certain of their own worthlessness.

"What do you mean by 'why do I do this to myself?'" he then asked, puzzled. "We have known each other since we were nearly newly-hatched. We are friends; we help one another. We have grown in power, and experience--but we share some of that experience. We share the same history with Reseda--one that could have ended far, far worse. We have fought Blackberry together, more than once, and you have suffered for it. We are trying to make the caves a better, safer place. I do not particularly wish to be anywhere else."

@Livius

In a similar manner to Pride not understanding why Envy wanted to be king, Envy didn't understand why Pride didn't want to be king. After all, he was Pride. Wouldn't it be fulfilling to him to rise above the rest and be proven better?

At Pride's question, even though the weasel's own words had brought it forward, the weasel felt put on the spot, their quills prickled in dread. They knew the answer, but they didn't want to face it. It was as Pride thought. They did not wan power, they envied it. What they did had ever been for the good of the caves or even for the good of Reseda's plans. All of it was for themselves.

"...Wouldn't it make you proud?" they asked at last, their voice scarcely above a whisper.

And then, Pride was speaking of their past together; a past that the weasel had so often tried to smother and blot out. The memories of a small, scrawny weasel and a pristine, beautiful white fawn so strong and elegant even in youth haunted them. They remembered, clearly, the despair they felt every time they looked at him, the fear of never amounting to anything so great.

And in truth, they never could.

And yet... those words, as much as they cut deep, warmed them. They were words that the little weasel so desperately craved to hear and yet, didn't want to acknowledge. The memories, whilst painful to remember in the way they defined them, were spoken of in a context of friendship and warmth, something that the weasel desperately craved. Especially, they realised, now.

The weasel slowly uncurled, and then, step by hesitant step, crept out of the hollow. The gleam of catlike eyes appeared in the crack, and then a whiskered muzzle. Soon after followed their long neck, their short forelimbs and thinly emaciated form, finally ending with the scrape of their bone-barbed tail. They didn't look at Pride, but they moved up to him, finally coming to a rest in between folded forelimbs, sinking to the ground close to the deer's warm and huge white chest.

Suddenly, it was a lot harder to speak. They still couldn't look at him, quills laid flat against their neck and back.

"It's just... doesn't it hurt your pride? Do you ever regret calling me King?"

As soon as they spoke, they regretted it; they were hoping for one thing, and expecting another.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride's thoughts were faintly pitying, while Envy was still within the cave--to him, a kingdom, a true kingdom, would be hundreds or thousands of prosperous citizens, a strong guard force. The people would be enlightened, and want for nothing; and still, he would hold little interest in leading them. The power of it meant nothing to him.

In a way, in his self-assured arrogance, he needed no title to tell him that he was already better than everyone else. Yet, he saw it that way in a very impersonal sense. He did not see himself as more valuable, and that was perhaps an important distinction: he saw Envy, or a newly-hatched Gembound, as just as important as he was. He was more skilled, more intelligent, and yes more beautiful, but that didn't make him more important. His arrogance was, at least, tempered by his values. But Envy was his opposite, in so many ways. They preferred, though Pride didn't realize the full extent of it, to keep others down, rather than to elevate them. Rather than improve themselves, they wanted to ensure that no one could surpass them. He still didn't know of the few times when Envy had deliberately put off teaching Pride a certain spell, for example, solely to keep him just that little bit weaker, that little bit less.

Back to the point, though, he could hardly tell Envy that he found it difficult to be jealous over the perhaps two Gembound that called themselves part of their sad little "kingdom," that he didn't feel resentment at the ruins that they commanded. He couldn't outright say that flaunting over a broken throne was not something that he himself was angry over... He couldn't say "honestly, your kingdom sucks, Envy." He wasn't out to hurt the weasel--who was, after all, his friend. And so, as always, Pride carefully considered his words.

Anything he'd been about to say, however, faded as Envy curled between his forelegs. He leaned down to offer a gentle nose over their quills (and hell, they were sharp).

"...I think," he began at last, voice soft, "that I am more proud in... what I accomplish, and how I struggle to--perform? If I do the best I can, then I am proud. I would be more proud of elevating those around me, in seeing this place flourishing and full of happy Gembound wanting for nothing. I would be proud if Orion was a center of the caves, of peace, of prosperity. It doesn't matter to me whether I'm called King, or not. And I'm sure we'll get there, if we fight for it--and that's all we did, today. We're trying to make the caves a better place, and King or advisor, that's what we ought to be proud of." He was doing his best to explain--to be honest, to be careful with his words.

"I have never thought that I have made a mistake by calling you King," he went on, though perhaps if he'd remembered, at the moment, his frustration with the Bloodberries and with the handling of Reseda, at first, he might have had other thoughts. But those things were past, now, and didn't even occur to him in the moment. "It's my choice, after all. You don't need to worry me suddenly realizing, some day, that I've made a mistake all along. I'm never wrong, Envy," he went on--with quiet amusement--"and I'm quite confident in you."

Never mind the fact that it was hard to go wrong with barely any followers. They could work on that, at least. Perhaps, if they had an army and a true kingdom, and Envy were some kind of tyrant or lazy failure, Pride would have been dissatisfied; but it was hard to be angry at an empty cave, at silent ruins and a weeping weasel.

Pride eyed Envy beneath him, and took a breath. He'd stated the truth; now it was time to be a friend, for a moment. To go beyond factual replies, and offer a little comfort. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You are--we both are--trying to build a better world. You are upset because we killed Blackberry? -Don't be. How many did she kill, without remorse? How many children did she turn? I know the other, who died in the fight--I know that was terrible. But that was her fault, hers for training them that way, for using them as her weapons. I have said I think you better, because you are not a cold killer--but don't let your guilt break you. You did what you had to do, and it means no one else will suffer as her children have. Remember that, if nothing else--remember what we have prevented."

@Envy

Envy didn't raise their head as they felt Pride nosing gently over their quills, though their ears slightly perked. They put most of their effort in keeping their quills down and out of the deer's snout, despite the chill running down their spine at the contact. His words washed over them... kind, and comforting, yet... they felt the telltale ache of jealousy brewing in their chest, a feeling that they should have been used to by now.

If only it were that easy for them to feel so happy and proud, naturally. The weasel felt it were impossible, at least without taking such emotions from him. And there were others too. Everyone else. They remembered the brief time when aligning their own feelings with others' through the use of magic had been a regular occurrence --no-- an addiction.

They had come this far, they prepared to make Orion the centre of the caves and the Seven a group of guardians... and yet, Envy still felt that it wasn't truly theirs. After all this, they were still hollow.

The recent battle had only reiterated that. In a way, felt they were there only to keep Pride theirs.

It wasn't bravery... it was always, had always been, jealousy.

And yet here Pride was... telling them that he had chosen them, and that even now, he still had faith in them. How did he not see through them? After all these cycles, all these failures and fits of emotion?

Pride said he was never wrong, but...

For a moment, a fleeting twinge of guilt joined the persevering feeling of envy.

They said nothing for a while, but after a while raised their head and rested their chin on Pride's foreleg, craving the contact, rare as it was, yet worrying about showing it like this. Usually, the feeling of sitting on his head, the sight of his towering antlers either side of them, and the warmth of his wiry fur made them feel powerful. Now it made them feel like a child seeking comfort from the mother that was never there. And it embarrassed them.

They were, luckily, distracted from their bottomless well of self-pity as Pride continued. After a while, they shook their head. "It's... not that," they said, in a low voice. "Don't you remember the screams? The awful sounds as he was being crushed into a bloody pulp and she was being ripped into smaller and smaller pieces? The horrible scent of blood, so thick and so..." They choked back a retch. "I'm... not guilty about killing them. ...Not much, anyway. They were monsters. But..."

They shifted, pausing, hesitating, the memory and the fear bringing a fresh bout of nausea. They shook their head in an effort to clear it.

"I... It should be easy. I have sharp teeth. But... I've never eaten anything that used to be alive. Not since I was new-hatched." Their voice wavered, a little. Even that first meal hadn't lasted inside of them for very long. "...I've never hunted or killed anything, not even a plant. But now I've killed two... and both died in horrible, horrible pain and tortured agony because of me."

They paused, looking up at Pride with an expression full of despair.

"Do... do you understand?"

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride listened quietly, and didn't move as Envy shifted to rest against his foreleg.

With wry, dark humor, he realized that he had killed far more than Envy had. Aster--a dog friend of his--had broken a hind leg some cycles ago, when he'd still been a fawn. He'd had to use his magic to hunt down every meal for her--rats, mice, spiders, lizards. He'd killed frequently, and often, despite being an herbivore--and though he'd spent a great deal of time with Eridanus' Lesser Gembound deer herds, the thick skin against killing still lingered.

"I know," he said at last, "and you're right, it was terrible. Not what you did--that had to be done; they brought that on themselves--but a death isn't ever a nice and pretty thing." He paused, for a moment, surprised that Envy was actually so squeamish. Or was it just a normal reaction to such a horrible death?

He wondered about this. "I myself am a little cold, Envy. I'm sorry, but that is true. I have killed a great deal--I had a friend, a carnivore, who was badly-injured and who could not hunt for themselves. And as awful as that hybrid's death was, to me it was a necessity, and it is simple to shut it away. I can see it being much harder for someone of a gentler heart. I wonder--would you consider speaking to Mercurius?" The white lion was a gentle being, and Pride wondered if it'd help Envy to speak to him.

"I know that opening up to others might be difficult, but he's been through a great deal, and he is good, I think, at helping others overcome things they have had to deal with. He may be able to help you smooth your thoughts, or... soften the blow of memories, perhaps."

It is easier for me, he realized, and he wondered why. Why did he have less of an issue causing pain and death, despite being so morally vindictive against sadists? He wasn't one, himself--he gained no pleasure from it, either--and certainly the screams would flicker through his nightmares. But--perhaps it was not the fact that he had hunted, so much as the fact that his mind was, and always had, been governed by cold and crystalline, logical thought. Envy was emotionally-driven--they always had been. That must be it. They feel--and far more deeply than I do. I think, and I decide. We both act. I act out of necessity; Envy acts from... emotion? But what emotion drove them to do this, then?

"I think, perhaps, that I act out of logic, and you out of emotion. But I must ask, then--why did you do it? What emotion drove you to the fight?" Pride wondered if perhaps a reminder of what had sparked Envy's actions might reinforce the necessity of the killing, but maybe it wouldn't. He wasn't sure, but he was curious, too, and so he asked.

@Livius

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