ORIGIN

Pride was not particularly surprised at the deer thing, but the other part had him perking his ears forward. Now that was interesting, and he spotted at once the chance for a lesson; Orthoclase-Alpha's confusion at the mere notion of altruism was astonishing to him. But, arrogant though he was, he saw himself as in a perfect position to give unasked-for knowledge, to try and offer the creature perspectives it perhaps did not yet have.

...And he was pretty sure that this thing, then, had met Vivilene.

"I think you met my granddaughter, then. I hope she is well," he added, mildly, hoping that the creature had not frightened her too badly--or worse. If she'd given it peaches, he hoped that Alpha had been mollified away from doing whatever the hell he'd done to terrify James, at least, or that sort of thing.

He also wondered if it would be confused, miffed, or perhaps indifferent at the proof that others did, in fact, reproduce freely.

In any case; on to the lessons, such as they were, after a brief pause to finally re-raise the damn shield (and what had been interfering with that..? How strange...). "As for my helping my friend--ahh, she preferred rats, though perhaps for obvious reason." Eating deer in front of deer, and all that. "Though she was fairly small, and so I am unsure if she could have eaten even a cave deer. In any case, I can explain the altruism; if you wish to look at it logically, it hardly inconvenienced me, certainly did not put me in much danger, provided me with useful training of my own when I had little else to do, and gained me an ally, in a sense--or strengthened her bond with me, in any case. But," he added, and this was pointed, intent, "There are other reasons to help, even at great cost to oneself."

"If you wish to hear the philosophical reason," and he didn't wait in case of a 'no,' "we live our lives and then we die, and are no more. This life, this one existence, is all that we have; and I see little point in either cowering through it, avoiding all that could be interesting, or serving only myself. If we were all this way--helping only ourselves, and never one another--we would all, as a whole, grow much less. Learn much less. We would all be more miserable, competing constantly, never a chance to rest; fighting, killing, dying sooner. Perhaps it's also practicality, in a sense; but enforcing cooperation and peace makes a better life for all of us."

A pause, and he eyed Orthoclase; he thought that the creature would get point one easily enough, though it might disagree; and point two was fifty-fifty, in Pride's mind. There was still some logic, to that one. Point three, he felt, would go straight over its head but he was going to offer it anyway.

"She was also a friend, and I would have felt terrible simply leaving her there to die."

Ahh, but one could discuss morality; evolution toward social cooperation for the survival benefit of the whole; altruism as a survival benefit for group-based species... How free will was perhaps an illusion, how choices were programmed by genetics and reinforced by experience... but Pride knew nothing of these things. He only knew that he would have felt terrible leaving Aster behind to die, and that he felt good having aided her.

In truth perhaps one act was no more "good" than another, in terms of true motive--but Pride had not gotten onto such existential ponderings yet, and was blissfully still in the "one of these actions is bad, and one is good" stage of philosophy.

Which... might have been for the best, really. Orthoclase-Alpha might have been losing patience as it was.

"Grandchild, yes," Pride confirmed, explaining: "She is from my son, my child. So she is the third in our line."

The stag listened, hiding any amusement, as Alpha tried on various coats of logic and then partially-reversed them. You gained, at no cost, followed closely by you helped at no expense, but gained nothing- and Pride smirked, just a little, in a good-natured manner. "I did something because I felt it was right, because I wanted to help, yes."

He listened to Alpha's... Justification? Explanation? Pride tilted his head, and spoke gently: "Mm, what designs are good for... what purpose, however? As fighters?" he hazarded, because that's certainly what this family looked like, to him; "What would you fight for, then? If not to protect that which is yours, or those that you care for; why would you fight? And what if there is no need for fighting?" His tone was not argumentative, but calm, patient; it was, as far as Pride was concerned, philosophical discussion. "What if something too big to fight comes along, and what is needed are... small designs? Which can hide, to survive? There is no way of knowing, is there?" Unless, of course, they were somehow proofing a thousand of these "designs" for various purposes, but Pride was rather missing the point of this, and he knew it. Obviously this clan had some plans in mind--and everyone else just wanted to live. But what troubled him, a little, was that Orthoclase-Alpha didn't seem to be particularly involved in the deeper aspects of it. Perhaps it was just young, or unintelligent; but it seemed to be parroting half its viewpoints, in an almost confused manner.

Mentions of Vivilene, again. The first--assurance that she had not been harmed--brought him relief. The second--that Orthoclase cared for her--brought him immense surprise. She had been so terribly shy, at first; he could hardly even imagine her befriending such a creature as this. Was it... manipulation? Was the Orthoclase pretending at this obliviousness?

He hesitated, a moment, and then tentatively reached his mind for Alpha's. When he saw nothing obvious to indicate a lie, he again inclined his head, interested. "She is... very kind, isn't she? Very-... idealistic. She wishes to help others, you know. To bring them lights, and food, and make sure they are happy. It... troubles her, I think, that she cannot speak. I am sure your company brought her comfort." A thought, an idea; "Perhaps one day you can travel with her, and offer her protection as she goes about her tasks; that might be... interesting."

Pride leaned forward, taking one of the uneaten bananas, nibbling at it as he listened, and as he spoke. Orthoclase-Alpha seemed to be struggling with the questions, as much as the answers, and Pride had a feeling it had never been asked them before. That it'd never asked itself.

For a moment, he allowed himself pride--not that he was managing anything specific, but that he was in calm conversation instead of a confrontation. That, for him, was also a step up. And then there were things to pay attention to, things that Alpha was telling him that Pride thought it should probably not be. That Orthoclase-Alpha was a 'shock trooper.' A front-line soldier. That the little creature he'd seen in Cetus (that was who it meant, right?) was intended as a stealthy scout. That its life was one of training and preparation for this mysterious, seemingly-nonexistent 'war.' (Though images of Dhracia and Raheerah still swam unpleasantly through Pride's mind.)

And that Vivilene had, at least once, touched it. And hadn't done so again. That implied a warning, at least, but Alpha's claim of her lack of fear would have spiked his disbelief and worry even higher had he not already consulted the poor confused beast's brain for signs of untruth.

"Hm. I do wonder what it is that they'll send you to war against." It was making more sense now, though, wasn't it--Khloros' claims of Astraea's words? That the Gembound were only unwanted byproducts of purged... something-or-others. If these caves held some deliberate purpose, some purpose kept to by Vargas and the masters whilst the rest of them went about their lives-... But then, why would we be tolerated? Either they are benevolent enough that they do not mind our presence, or it is more practical. Perhaps we're kept around in case we become useful later on, our... 'designs.' Or maybe we've always shared this world with them, though Astraea's words said otherwise. Or maybe we'll be used as target practice, and as food, he thought idly, and then--mind reaching back to Cetus--...or to watch the caves and monitor them for other influence. Was that it-? Were their numbers simply too low, these fierce alien beings (but then, Astraea was a stag-?) to keep things such as Mother at bay alone-? Or perhaps the caves in general had been without protection too long, and that's what they were breeding, training? A Seven, but--like this?

Pride tilted his head, a little. Alpha had been forthcoming so far; maybe it had an answer. -Best to frame it wisely, though, in case it was repeated back later on. "If your Overseer and the Masters are designing and testing, why do they tolerate all of the rest--the by-products? And why, do you know, does one of the Masters have a regular design?"

But is it-? You don't have six eyes and poison-looking quills, Pride thought, glancing over Alpha, but you know what you've heard, and seen. That Rezik looks like you, that Astraea looks like you, that one of the former 'kings' of Orion who claimed this very throne looks like you. I wonder... His thoughts half-spoke to himself, and then he shook his head.

"In any case, we must all have something to dream for. A goal, a desire for the future. That can be yours, hm? It sounds like a good one, I think." After it'd 'proven itself,' at least.

Whatever that entailed.

Pride had expected the conversation to wind to a close. For Alpha to, perhaps, quietly agree; for it to depart. But no, it had a near full-on panic attack, pacing, smashing the stone (and tensing the still-very-much-a-prey-animal-stag up all over again, right as he'd curled down to lie neatly on the rock). He lay there, staring in surprise.

I don't have things. Thoughts.

Sharp pity twisted his gut--and then anger, slowly-blooming but white hot. Who the hell was it who had created this--this thing, and created it with feelings, and then told it it wasn't allowed to have them? At once, his brain clicked on. "You are a 'design,' yes? A deliberate one?" he asked, after a moment, delicately. "If they created you with the ability to think, and feel, certainly that was done with purpose. Have they actually forbidden you from these?"

He glanced to the hand, and the shards of gemstone stuck within. He focused, for a moment, taking very specific hold of the local capillaries there, turning the blood back along different veins before it hit the open wound. An incline of his antlers, and he spoke further. "You may wish to pull that gemstone out before it gets embedded farther in. I've stopped the bleeding, for now," he added. He was fairly sure that he could stop it at the exit point once the gemstones were out. If it wasn't flowing, as long as the toxic-looking substance acted like normal blood, it should clot quickly.

He hoped. As long as the wounds weren't too bad, at least.

Mild silver eyes again lifted to Orthoclase-Alpha's alien gaze. Anger bubbled in him. As big as it was, as brutish as it seemed, it was like a child caught in a horrid, cruel world that it didn't quite understand. "Would you mind, perhaps, taking me to your Overseer; or telling him that I wish to speak with him?" He paused, and inclined his head lightly again. "I think he and I have something to discuss."

Pride perked a brow at the short, harsh response. Alpha had, at least, calmed some--both from his question, as intended, and seemingly from the preoccupied necessity of cleaning its own wounds. "About the dragons, primarily. Perhaps you could ask him to meet me here, oh, later tonight?" he suggested; "This way I can have a gift ready--I presume he's a carnivore..?"

He focused on keeping the blood where it was meant to be, so that it could fully clot, concentrating in silence for a moment.

He then looked to Orthoclase-Alpha. "However, if you ever wish to come and socialize a little more, you are more than welcome to." An extension--an invitation--of solace, of a haven. He doubted that the creature would take it--not now, and not in the future--but it was there, just in case things... changed.

"I'd also like to get an idea of his expectations for the caves." Pride didn't verbally elaborate on this, and it was almost indifferently-said, but it was, at least in part, true.

He wanted to speak to Vargas, and get an idea of if they'd be clashing, in the future. And to try and head that off, with negotiation; and if that failed, he wanted to know what they'd be dealing with.

Pride wondered, for a moment, if he could contact Astraea if things got out of hand. Surely an Overseer would have to answer to the Masters, yes-?

His spell abruptly lashed back at him, and he blinked as he first lost control of the Alpha's blood--not a huge deal; it would leak a little, and then clot further naturally--but also smacked into his own. For a moment he swayed, heavily, feeling his limbs threaten to lock, and then snorted as a short spray of red blood shot from his nostrils. Pride shoved up, standing, coughing, and shook his head. "Ahh, nothing hurts but my own magic, it seems. The spell's backfired, but you should still be fine," he assured it, glancing down as red dripped to the rock.

He sure as hell hoped that he hadn't ruined his impression of immortality, so carefully and humorously cultivated--but he imagined that he had.