ORIGIN

Pride hesitated, gaze falling again to the moonstone.

His thoughts ran the same as hers: what if whoever "dad" was just hadn't wanted to say..?

"Do you mind if I touch the gemstone, briefly?" he asked, almost wincing as he did so. He didn't want to impose, but than again she'd wasted no time in picking the leaves from his fur; perhaps she wouldn't mind. "I would not ask, but--he is my son, I have not seen him in several cycles, and I may be able to tell--with my magic, that is--if he is well, through the gemstone. That is his stone, as well as yours," he added, in case she didn't know.

What he didn't say was that he hoped to see her conception, and whether Azizos' stone had been inert or not; or perhaps he'd see Azizos's death, or... something less pleasant.

"Afterward, I would be--happy to tell you about us, and about magic--how to protect, and heal. I have trained a great deal; I would be more than glad to teach others what I know, particularly for a good cause." The words, though quiet and warm, were forced through that lingering fear.

What if, what if, what if ran through Pride's mind, and none of the scenarios his imagination conjured up--nor the answers for them--were good.

It felt, very faintly, like some strange, bright nightmare.

Pride exhaled, and stepped forward carefully.

"This won't hurt, or anything," he assured Vivilene, and leaned his head down, closing his own worried eyes, to touch the stone with his nose.

Hindsight wasn't a very particular magic, and it didn't generally care what the user wanted to see. It seemed, more often than not, to show some random past images and for Pride, this was now the case. He saw a flash of brown fur, movement, and then more relaxed slow walking by the edge of a lake or a pond. It was clear, but he couldn't tell if it was even Azizos--which baffled him--and then it was gone.

He shook himself and stepped back with a sigh.

"I can't tell, but thank you for letting me try," he said. He was reaching out, even as he spoke, along his link to Mischief and she, for once, was actually worried: she liked the kids, and his concern for Azizos' well-being had her scampering to search for any sign of him. She was somewhere off in the forest, herself, not one for Eridanus (and its hidden predators) but she, like him, had to graze from time to time.

Pride shook his thoughts free, but paid vague attention to her search along his link. His eyes, though, went back to Vivilene. He wondered why she could not talk--his first thought was her gemstone, but that was on her chest. Surely she didn't have two-? He'd never met someone with two, before. "For magic," he said, going back to that first, "there are many kinds. Those that can heal disease, or close wounds with fire. Those that can shield yourself--or another--from harm. There are other magics, too--to pick things up, and move them, without touching them--there's many kinds. Do you know anything about your own, bar the mind-magic? -That is magic, yes? Ah, do you know why you cannot speak?" For it was occuring to him, now, that perhaps she was naturally unable to verbally speak, but came with the ability to speak, without magic, mind-to-mind-?

The stag considered, briefly.

"I could, but I had something of a head-start. The one who found me upon my hatching used the same magic you are using--I think--to speak into my mind, which taught me words more quickly. But my voice alone had no issues." Worry lingered, his awareness of Mischief's race to search for Azizos touching now and then at the back of his mind. But he pressed on. "But I know of those who had gemstones in odd places--one had one in their throat, which made it difficult to eat or drink."

He looked at Vivilene, and decided it was best not to discuss the entire "radiation sickness" and "slow and lingering death" things that had come with Amazon's stone; the tale of Livius' was bad enough. "But yours is not, it seems, in your throat. Perhaps you have two-? Though I've never heard of such a thing," he added, thoughtfully.

Pride paused to try and summon up a shield--nothing came, and that reminded him, blinking, of another point. "Perhaps your--light?--hurt because of a... fluctuation, let's say, in the magic? It's a very volatile thing, magic. It backfires often enough. I've had... oh, headaches, mostly. Blinding ones, when it chooses not to cooperate. Polaris, I've found--do you know it?--is good for practice. The magic is strong, there, and if you can control it there you may have an easier time outside it."

Pride lifted his head, turning it upward toward the canopy in thought.

"You can find it by going to the tunnel that would take you to Orion, but going the other way, instead. It is... dimmer, damp, with a river that runs through it. Be wary of that river," he added, silver eyes shifting back to Vivilene, with a warning in them, "as its banks are steep and it runs deep, cold and swift. There is a dam there, a crumbled wall with stones that animate and wander, and sometimes, they attack. There are crystals through it, though: all lit with light, and glittering."

That little twist of storyteller rose in him, and a little wistfully--expecting it to fail as it so often did--he reached for his magic for a display.

To his surprise it didn't backfire on him, at least; it was fainter than he'd hoped, and he had to struggle to maintain it but there it was; a shimmering, ethereal light show creating a vague image of the Spire, of the walls and crystals studding them. "The Spire is a great crystal within it, one full of power, and energy--and a little bit of mystery. It isn't safe to get too close to, and I think there's something inside it, but beyond that no one knows much about it. We just know that it's very magically-charged," he added, shifting the image a little so Vivilene could get a good look at it.

"This is another form of magic," Pride explained, in case it weren't somehow obvious; "it's related to... ahh, glowing, in fact. It's light, but more--advanced."

He looked at the fawn-child, again, wondering what might be wrong with her voice--how he might help, even--but he was at a bit of a loss as to how to pinpoint what the problem might be. He could hardly see into her throat--well, perhaps if he had Squick, but he had no idea where the parasite had run off to, these days.

Still, he wracked his brain, trying and failing to come up with something useful.

The stag eyed Vivilene, and warmth struck him unexpectedly. He was about to lapse into realization that this was his blood--truly his blood--when Mischief's triumph rang along his shared link.

He blinked.

...Ahh.

"Well, your other father is alive," Pride offered; "Resting in his stone, I think. I can see it, through my companion. A Lesser," he added--"Do you know about them? It seems that if you manage--and it is not easy; I failed for a long time before I succeeded--if you manage to impart some of your magic into one, it links to you. Mind to mind. It may be worth looking into, if your vocal issues continue-?" he added, not unkindly. "There are some rats--the, ah, gray ones--that can mimic sounds perfectly, and some birds that can somewhat manage. It may be worth having a voice outside yourself for when your magic grows weary," he explained.

He wondered, vaguely, what had forced Azizos into his chrysalis (and, in response to fiery prodding by Mischief's mind, acknowledged her with amused gratitude). Had he simply gone to sleep, there in his other father's grove? Or had he dragged himself there, wounded and near death, to the last place that-... No; that didn't bear thinking about.

He's safe now, at least. I'll make sure he stays that way, and meanwhile I need to focus here.

Vivilene was obviously rapt, and Pride cleared his throat gently. "I could tell you a story, if you like-? Either a fantastical one, with no roots whatsoever in reality--as it should be!--or I can tell, and show, more of what I know of the caves?"