James walked through the familiar green overgrowth with uncertain strides, his brows furrowed and his ears down. His feathers reflected his turmoil, some bent from the journey through the trees, others falling off. He found himself over-grooming, plucking one too many feathers when he preened himself and pulled broken or damaged ones out. It was difficult to rein himself in, but so far he hadn't caused too much harm, and his feathers were still shiny for now.
He'd been told of a 'garden', should his wanders not bring anything up, and searched for it, his brows furrowed with worry. What was he supposed to do when he met Mercurius? He didn't know him at all, and it would be weird to show up in emotional turmoil for a first visit. Though really, that's exactly why he was here.
He stepped forward and squeezed between two trees, stumbling out into a garden. He looked up and around, blinking as he observed the plants, most overgrown. What order there had been was nearly gone, with lesser birds flitting about and butterflies and moths fluttering past. It was still beautiful, in it's own way.
He looked over to his companion, uncertainty in his eyes,
Pride moved sedately through the underbrush, his diamond armor glistening in the forest's dew. His mind was distant, pensive, his senses on high alert, a counterpoint to his graceful movements--movements that seemed practiced and without care.
James' question had him glancing his way, silvery eyes catching the light.
Leaves parted, and Pride reached out his mind, first.
Then came voice.
Please.
A baseline normalcy would be good for James to understand: a reference point, before they spoke with Aristotle.
Pride offered Mercurius a gentle, affectionate nose-to-nose nudge, and then stepped back with a bow of silvered tines, to allow the two to speak. He waited, there, patient--ready to answer questions, but also to allow them to interact for as long as they wished.
@Mercurius
Turning away from the overgrown brush he'd been tending to - bah, they all were growing too quickly for him to keep up with moving between Monoceros and here, these days - the storyteller called softly, "ah, I'm coming. No need to keep calling." Inky lips quirked in a gentle smile, not a single tooth shown. His head immediately dipped to the arriving horse and regarded all the introductions with a relaxed squint of the eyes. "It's a pleasure. James, hm?" Moonlit eyes turned to regard Pride, seemingly just as baffled by the compliments as he was every other time the stag offered them, however indirectly.
Whether or not it was acknowledgement, too, of the pointed look offered, no one could say. Mercy simply returned the nudge and indicated toward the bed of soft grasses he kept at the ready. "Rest, at least." Ah, that's what he was often told before - and a pang of pity stole through his face.
He looked to James next, speaking as he padded through the grove, "what sorts of plants do you like to eat? I'm sure I can grow whatever you can name." A wry sort of look twisted his face, but vanished in the next moment where he extended a paw. It barely grazed the patch of shoot grass, urging them to grow. They crackled to their full length, retaining their gleaming lime color and soft freshness. Mercy bowed his head to it, "we might as well get comfortable," and made to lie in his own patch. He blinked like he'd caught something, and added gently, "or no, if you'd prefer to stand. There is plenty of room to do so."
He waited patiently and contentedly for the pegasus to settle down in his place of choice before starting the pleasantries with a soft "with the Seven, are you?" It was rhetorical, of course, so Mercurius continued warmly, gaze not leaving him, "I've always wondered what it'd be like if I'd decided to become a guardian in lieu of a gardener. Perhaps, I'd have been a poet in diamond armor." Here, he flashed a wry smirk at Pride. He held it for a moment, then looked back at James, briefly at a loss for how to continue.
"But... ah," (here we go,) "but, what is it like to be among them? The Seven, I mean." Mercy shifted in his seat, leaning slightly forward onto his forepaws; he tucked them beneath his mane, brows quirked in genuine, disarming curiosity. His stag companion'd always offered his stories, but a different perspective... what a prospect!
@James
James watched Mercurius and seemed all the more uncomfortable and broken as the seconds passed, doubt and uncertainty welling up in his big doe eyes, ones that hid absolutely nothing. His thoughts- his soul were constantly on display, so even when trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes betrayed him.
Because Mercy was too much like his beloved Aristotle, his Aristotle who he'd steal the world for, catch and tame the stars for... and who could possibly be someone truly evil underneath that golden fur, using chicanery to achieve what he wished among those he deceived.
He slowly lay down in a patch of designated 'laying' grass, finding it a bit amusing before it was wiped away by his own will,
Stress, worry, fear. None of those things were good for one's stomach.
The stallion nodded gently, affirming his position as one of the Seven. His ears perked up at the notion that perhaps Mercy could have been the one to take him in, rather than Pride. How interesting that might have been.
With that, his voice grew bitter and his eyes gained an edge of anger, of betrayal.
James looked away and down, mulling over the memory before casting it away and resuming his tired, but relatively content facade, his eyes still agelessly sad as they watched an ant scurry across the ground, running and running to please it's Queen.
Pride moved throughout the little grove in silence as the other two introduced themselves, and spoke. His movements were delicate, graceful; each step carefully-placed so as to avoid crushing any of Mercy's lovingly tended plants. Here and there he paused to nose or nibble a leaf, or smell a flower. And when the conversation seemed to wind back to a place that opened for his input, he turned toward them.
Other than that Pride was quiet, unobtrusive. Guiding the conversation a tad, where he could; but he didn't really interrupt.
@Mercurius
So, the lion obliged his greeting with a quick bow of the head, and continued as usual.
"That's alright," he said warmly, "I hope that it returns soon." Mercurius knew what it was to go hungry, at times—it'd stunted his own growth and left his body wanting. Punishment affected him even today, what with those bouts of stiffness in his limbs. But, enough thinking about that...
... it was his turn to listen while James spoke, nodding along with his story. He couldn't help but interject once, about "stranger things, hm?" It was a short laugh, mirthful and not teasing in the slightest. "Ah, all things in these Caves seem strange, don't they." Oh, he could empathize with the anxieties. There still lurked a darkness in him, some niggling worry that it might overtake him. Mercy offered as much: "I used to—oh, well, I still am afraid of the dark, at times. That's part of why it's so bright in here. I learned to use light to combat it, even though lights cast shadows." A tad bit poetic, but you see—"I think it's good to act counter to your own worries. It proves that things aren't as bad as they're made out to be."
That being said, his brows furrowed in concern. Fooled... ? There was an optimistic note—the wings—but the rest was bitterly spoken, and the stallion distracted himself with an ant immediately afterwards. "I'm sorry," Mercy offered, and did not press the issue further than that. If it were so raw and new, he shouldn't press.
Pride fed a different topic of conversation, and the storyteller glanced gratefully his way. "Here... ? I've seen nothing of it," he rumbled, but then considered. There'd been a great deal of commotion and chatter not long ago, but things had quieted down again. "Heard, perhaps..." he mused, waiting for James to elaborate.
@James
James' ear twitched as Pride spoke, but the cold feeling of dread that suddenly doused his head, his chest, making his fur stand on end and his chest contract, it made him deaf for a moment.
When the conversation went quiet he abruptly looked up, flushing under his dark fur in embarrassment as he struggled to figure out what was going on. The Edenfolk? Right! Right.
It was a wonderful idea, one he so desperately wish to contribute to, but not until all of this was over and everything had settled. He still wanted to explore, of course, so this would probably be like what he had in Orion. A place to come home to.
Except for maybe the milk part-
James ended his story and waited for an answer, mulling over Mercy's words.
Like his flying? His care for Comet despite his sudden fear of Ari? Being outgoing and adventurous where he could to counter his own anxiety of even the slightest danger? He was doing that! Why wasn't it working?
Pride had come for James. He had intended to gently shift the topic, as James seemed nervous; he had intended to focus on the horse, not to interrupt, interject.
But one thought now stuck in his mind, repeating itself, confused and a little disgusted:
He tried to refocus--on James, on the description of the village; on Mercurius' words, advice, on his old friend's gentle musings. But the same thought kept cropping up, pressing past all that with vehement confusion:
Pride turned away, unobtrusive, nibbling at some greens--staring into the middle distance, trying to banish the word 'milk' and the associated horrified punctuation marks from his mind. At least he wasn't interrupting, now; instead he seemed to be peacefully, subtly minding his own business, as if to let the other two talk.
But... still.
@Mercurius