ORIGIN

Eridanus' light, dappling down through shifting leaves, caught slivers across the white stag that passed now through the foliage. It bathed him as though in white fire, catching across the gemstone at his throat and reflecting in blinding sparkles, and reminded him yet again that he was incredibly bad at staying hidden.

Pride was not, at least, trying to stay hidden--not now. He'd never done anything like this before and he honestly wasn't too sure how to justify what he was after. He had two children: but he now knew Vivilene, his grandchild. He admired a great deal about her, and his goal today was twofold. To offer her a sibling, related in blood (...so to speak); and to, he hoped, add another like her into this world.

The recent happenings in Orion both warned him against this--did he really want to put another child into the caves, with things like that going on?--and left him, too, hoping to safeguard against some darker future. Surely if there were enough of them--enough generous, bright, kind-hearted Gembound--they could stand together against any threat..?

He shook the thought aside. It would cost him nothing, of course, to create life--or, at least, very little. But he had to get Attikias' acceptance, first. His approval. He knew the other's name, but little else--not his appearance, nor his precise location, though he knew the whereabouts vaguely from Vivilene. So he paced along its outer edges (unaware that Attikias hunted deer, but aware at least that he'd befriended--sort of--Azizos), calling out now and then.

"Attikias? Is there one called Attikias near? -Vivilene?" When at last he stumbled upon the grove, the little living-space with clear signs of tool-use, and artistry, he paused only for a moment. Then he pushed through the foliage, head tilting as he called again. "Attikias?" he asked, hoping to find the other one here, in what he hoped was his home.

Pride had agonized over what, exactly, to say; he'd somehow worried that Attikias would be a stiff, cold sort of person. But he found that he liked him at once; he warmed to the elf-like creature's immediate openness, and freely-offered hospitality. Pride felt himself relax, a little, and offered a deep, respectful incline of his head.

"Peaches, perhaps; she seems to like those," he suggested, with gentle amusement. Okay, so maybe the kid wasn't gathering entire peach trees for her garden, but...

The white stag stepped delicately closer, still leaving polite distance but approaching enough to not seem to linger rudely at an awkward distance. "You know me, I take it-? Or does Vivilene have quite so many friends, that all visitors are for her? She is a good child," he added, warmly, "and it is good to know that she seeks to help others--ahh, my apologies," and here he interrupted himself. "I am rambling. My name is Pride. I am Azizos' father, and if I'm not mistaken, Vivilene's grandfather." He guessed that Attikias knew of him, but introductions were polite, regardless. He offered a gentle shake of his head to the offer of fruit, and a murmured 'thank you;' he was too anxious to accept, and didn't want to take Attikias' food supplies, really. He himself could just eat grass, after all.

"I have... a strange request of you, given that we've never met before." A breath, as he studied the tall, purple-hued creature, as silver eyes ranged over the expressive face and the survival-honed musculature. This was, indeed, a father; and one who provided for his family, Pride felt. "I have Azizos and Arsu, my sons--twins--and their father, Mercurius, is a close friend of mine. Now Vivilene is my granddaughter, but I hardly know her family--you! and whomever else," he began.

A hesitant pause, and he glanced away, and back. "It is a strange and admittedly very personal request I wish to make of you. The caves have been chaotic, of late. I think it is in those like our children that we may place our hope, and I wished to further join our families. To get to know you, as allies, perhaps as friends. And to add another good life to the caves, one like Vivilene. If I were to offer a piece of my stone, would you consider bringing it to life? I understand it's an abrupt question, so of course if you are not comfortable with that, please do refuse; I will take no offense. But..." Another pause, hesitation, and Pride glanced around, at a loss for words, for a moment. "But I think more Vivilenes in the world can only be a good thing," he settled on, at last, looking to the father of his granddaughter.

"I would be glad to help raise the child, or entirely raise them if you'd prefer," he added, head tilting.

Pride dipped his head as Attikias admitted hunger, and then gave a quiet laugh at the idea that his kids had mentioned him. "Only good things, I hope-? You met Arsu too, then, I take it?"

At the mention, too, of Attikias getting many requests, Pride gave another quiet laugh. "Well, I am sorry to have added another," but as the elf went on, it became clear that he was more than enthusiastic about the idea. Pride's own eyes lit up, some, pleased at how well Attikias was taking it.

"Ahh, by all means! And if you ever wish a babysitter for the rest of the family, I had raised those two," he added, with amused dourness in his tone--because of 'those two,' it seemed, at least one had shown a tendency toward getting drunk and unexpectedly leaving children about. Pride studied Attikias for a moment, and wondered; he remembered the pillars. Azizos' strong connection to them; to, Pride thought, the idea of pairing, of love. Was he more closely-linked with Attikias than he had realized-? It was an unexpected thought, but not an unwelcome one, though he hoped he was stepping on no toes, then, by adding more children to the strange and jumbled mix.

He didn't mention it, either way--it would be awkward if he were wrong, and it wasn't really any of his business otherwise. But he did dip his head, smiling as best a deer could, and segued topic. "I can also offer magical practice, if you ever need someone familiar with mind-magic. I am fairly well-practiced in it, among other sorts... stone and the like, too, I think. Now, ah--thank you for this... let me see." He leaned down, a few inches, as if to see his own stone--then realized how foolish this was, and lifted his head high over Attikias' proffered palms.

A moment of focus, then, and he shed a shard of stone, feeling the strange and unnerving sensation of it fracturing, of the sliver sliding free and falling away. The hairs on the back of his neck raised; it felt vaguely wrong, somehow, each time--as though he'd lost a tiny piece of himself.

Attikias was still speaking, too: something about hoping he was good enough (if Pride were interpreting correctly) for raising family. The white stag gave another, quiet laugh as he stepped back, inspecting Attikias' hands to see if he'd caught the gem. "Of course. Vivilene seems very happy; I would not be here if I did not think someone had raised her well." A kind smile, then; it might've sounded arrogant, but that was far from how the stag had meant it.

He went silent, then--as much to allow Attikias to concentrate as anything else, though after a moment he did murmur, "Did it work?"

Pride turned to peer at the... what had Attikias called it? 'Installation?'

He eyed it somewhat quizzically; it looked like a statue, but he wasn't sure sure what of. "That was kind of them," he answered, and then--curiosity getting the better of him--"What is it?"

He looked back to the elf-creature, then, blinking. "Ahh, I am usually here in Eridanus--often Mercurius' garden, if you know it--or in Orion, generally near the abandoned throne. That is where the Seven are based, though they all have their own lives, of course..." He looked down to the stone, watching it slowly fusing to the dusty ground beneath.

Pride took a breath. He had only seen life created once or twice in his life, and it was still an awesome sight.

"Thank you, for this," he said softly, nearly choking at the magnitude of his both gratitude and awe. "I will come as often as I can to help. In the meantime..."

He kept on chatting, intending to remain here awhile longer--out of politeness, and curiosity, and idle contentment. Rushing off would have been odd--and anyway, Attikias seemed both eager for company, and a good conversational partner.

The statue, of course, was still mysterious--but perhaps they could get to that later.