Apr 15 2020, 09:34 PM
Guarding. Protecting.
They were interesting concepts, in theory; but Pride was coming to realize the trouble with it. Protecting Gembound... The only real threats in the caves were other Gembound. The Masters, perhaps. The fungus... spread by other Gembound. But mostly, just... bullies.
It wasn't a good realization. The knowledge that to protect others, you had to fight yet others still.
Pride had come to grasp that this was what caused him some measure of stress; that there was no faceless villain out there that needed defending against--or if there was, he hadn't seen it. Instead, the Seven--if they were to be protectors--would need to build their strength, to become feared throughout the caves not as bullies themselves but as a force that bullies would have to contend with.
I want every Gembound to know--if they think about harming, killing, stealing--I want them to think, 'ah, but then the Seven will come after me... maybe I shouldn't, he thought.
And from some distance away, along his mental link, his familiar scoffed at this. He was being silly. He should just eat; drink; and live. ...But his familiar was only a hare; he didn't expect her to understand such things.
Nassir had reassured him, some. The leopard's talk had been... surprisingly helpful with gathering some form of insight. And maybe that was a form of guardianship, all its own. But for now, Pride was worried about a related problem: numbers. They hadn't enough; and Dread's help had to be bought. It was only a matter of time before either the dragon began to demand more than they could pay, or he refused to help altogether... or someone on the wrong side paid it. No; the Seven needed numbers of their own.
Idly, Pride lay down before Orion's Throne, and sent his magicka into the air; his intent was to create a dancing, sparkling display, a replay of the events in Cetus. The sweeping breath of the dragon; the fleeing Hive members; the march of the Bonebound on the nest. It had been a battle--grim, but a battle nonetheless--and it was what was on his mind, right now.
Quietly, as he lay there thinking, he watched the display--transient, faint, dipping and coming and going--but it was there, at least. And it took his mind, for now, off other things.
They were interesting concepts, in theory; but Pride was coming to realize the trouble with it. Protecting Gembound... The only real threats in the caves were other Gembound. The Masters, perhaps. The fungus... spread by other Gembound. But mostly, just... bullies.
It wasn't a good realization. The knowledge that to protect others, you had to fight yet others still.
Pride had come to grasp that this was what caused him some measure of stress; that there was no faceless villain out there that needed defending against--or if there was, he hadn't seen it. Instead, the Seven--if they were to be protectors--would need to build their strength, to become feared throughout the caves not as bullies themselves but as a force that bullies would have to contend with.
I want every Gembound to know--if they think about harming, killing, stealing--I want them to think, 'ah, but then the Seven will come after me... maybe I shouldn't, he thought.
And from some distance away, along his mental link, his familiar scoffed at this. He was being silly. He should just eat; drink; and live. ...But his familiar was only a hare; he didn't expect her to understand such things.
Nassir had reassured him, some. The leopard's talk had been... surprisingly helpful with gathering some form of insight. And maybe that was a form of guardianship, all its own. But for now, Pride was worried about a related problem: numbers. They hadn't enough; and Dread's help had to be bought. It was only a matter of time before either the dragon began to demand more than they could pay, or he refused to help altogether... or someone on the wrong side paid it. No; the Seven needed numbers of their own.
Idly, Pride lay down before Orion's Throne, and sent his magicka into the air; his intent was to create a dancing, sparkling display, a replay of the events in Cetus. The sweeping breath of the dragon; the fleeing Hive members; the march of the Bonebound on the nest. It had been a battle--grim, but a battle nonetheless--and it was what was on his mind, right now.
Quietly, as he lay there thinking, he watched the display--transient, faint, dipping and coming and going--but it was there, at least. And it took his mind, for now, off other things.