ORIGIN - empty eyes

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James had left the rock near the Throne like he had so many times before, seeking an audience with his mentor. He was ragged, not only physically but mentally, and he'd spooked at a vine earlier while traveling. It was pathetic. He'd never been overly fond of snakes, but he'd never been so afraid of anything that seeing a similar shape out of the corner of his eye would cause him to panic so badly.

He let his wings drop and finally got to work preening them, slowly returning them to their regular glossy sheen. He preened his chest feathers, his back feathers, and what neck feathers he could, slowly making himself look like less of a mess. But he had new scars, dozens of snake bites along his legs and body, a few on his neck, appearing between missing feathers, but the ones on his legs were the most prominent, the hair having yet to grow and cover them.

After a while, he laid himself down next to the Throne, hoping Pride would show up relatively soon. He had... a lot to tell him. A lot to ask. Tahi-shei had provided comfort (among other things), but now? He needed advice.

And maybe to warn Pride also, for he would be the best to tell in order to keep other Gembound from going into this trial blind to the fact that failing had severe punishment.

~~He wasn't jealous about the fact that his months old child had completed the trial easily and before him, absolutely not. Nor was he jealous that, as far as he knew, he was the only one to fail.~~

Laying his head down, James settled down to wait, his eyes dull, mouth down-turned. It seemed like every time he got ahead, something was there to grab at his legs and bring him down again.

@Pride

Pride moved in quietly, one ear flicking. The taste of greenery still lingered pleasant on his tongue, and his mind was wandering, here and there. He'd been in Orion, mostly; James had left the stone, he'd seen it and so he hadn't been gone for very long. A couple of hours to go snatch a meal.

He didn't know what the young horse might need, but he had steeled himself, relaxed his mind some, in case it was another case of stress and insecurity. It was weighing on Pride, a little, to always have to be the rock for James to lean on when his own mind still stirred with dark and deeply troubled depths. It wasn't that he minded, exactly--and really, he just hoped James could find some sense of happiness, of confidence. He, too, had been through a lot. Pride didn't really blame him for not quite turning out happy and bright, at least for now.

And anyway, maybe it wasn't something like that at all. Maybe it was good news, and maybe James would bear gifts and smiles, or even family for a visit.

...Ahh. Or not. Pride's step briefly slowed, a soft sense of sinking quickly steeled away, as he saw a miserable-looking James half-sprawled across the stone. Pale eyes wandered down, noting new injuries, a battered demeanor-...

"James?" Pride asked, any reluctance he'd held forgotten in favor of concern. "Are you all right?"

@James

James' ears perked up as he heard hooves on rock, looking up at his mentor. He stared for a moment, wanting to pretend that he was okay, feeling so guilty about continuously coming to the deer because his own problems weighed so heavily that he'd crumble if he didn't share the weight. But it wasn't fair to Pride. And it wasn't fair to himself, too.

"... Not as good as I could be," he finally said, forcing himself to stand, tail swishing behind him.

"I failed my trial," he sniffed, "You did one, right? I think you did. The owl creature in Polaris, Emuh was his name. My daughter passed their trial, a cat named Madhukar passed, you passed... everyone else has passed with flying colors!"

Bitterness welled up, his feathers rising and falling, ears pinning, his voice strained, as if there was something stuck in his throat, "But I failed. Of course I did because that's all I ever do! My stupid spell backfired and I not only failed but humiliated myself! I was happy, I was having fun at the festival a-and I went to go and take the test to see if it would be the final piece of the puzzle to allow me to finally heal but I failed!"

He'd been relying on the confidence boost from succeeding to finally start feeling good about himself again, but now he was back at square one and feeling worse than ever.

"As punishment for failing," he said, tearing up, "He sent snakes after me. Big ones. A-all over and around me, choking me, turning my limbs to stone and freezing them. I-I thought I was going to die."

That much venom and those kinds of effects should have killed him.

"I'm going to take the trial again," he said, sniffling, "I have to succeed."

Failure wasn't going to be an option. He couldn't fail. He couldn't.

@Pride

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

an f-bomb

He was about to ask for elaboration, after James' first round of explanation--why did the trial matter, why did it matter who had managed--when the horse suddenly exploded into a round of vitriolic self-loathing so hateful that it drew Pride back in a startled, blinking jerk.

'But I failed. Of course I did because that's all I ever do! My stupid spell backfired and I not only failed but humiliated myself-'

It felt so illogical, so misguided and self-blind; so vicious and self-hating that Pride had no idea what to do with it, for a moment. He simply stared at James as though the young horse were a stranger to him as he struggled to come to grips with it. His response was very nearly angry--anger at James for being so hard on himself--but it was tempered (necessarily so) as the horse went on.

Pride stared hard at him for a long while before he spoke, and his own voice was not entirely coddling and kind, as it normally was. It was, in fact, a tad reproachful, a little severe, though not harsh or actually cruel; it was the tone of someone speaking blunt truths.

"You know, James, if anyone else came to me and spoke about you in that manner I would hurt them," he began, and this did sound a little harsh, at first, before it softened: "I would tell them that anyone does their best, and lives their life as they can, and it is cruel--wrong--to judge them on accomplishments. That what matters is in your heart, first and foremost, and that you are a kind and thoughtful person, and therefore whoever was calling you a failure, bound to fail and to be humiliated, can kindly go fuck themselves." This he left hanging in the air for a moment, bolded and bright, staring at the horse.

"Your value has nothing to do with your magical ability and until you can see that, you will continue to look down upon the latter no matter how good it actually is. You will never see yourself as good enough until you can split those two things. I have told you before and I want you to remember it, to believe it: as long as you try your hardest you have nothing to be ashamed of. We all fail." Again he paused, taking a deep breath, exhaling it, shaking his head. He did not, he hoped, come across judgmental or dismissive: he was being supportive, albeit in a way that might shock one out of misery rather than coddle them softly. He genuinely believed what he was saying, at least. "That said, and it's unimportant but I will say it anyway, your magic is just fine. You are not a failure. As for the trials, if you want to give it another go, do so! Be determined to try as many times as it takes to succeed. Perhaps next time, perhaps in fifty attempts but you can do it. If you think it worth it. As for your injuries, the owl-thing is a prick. He has no right to cause you harm. Is that where you have been-?" he asked, brow furrowing down.

He was tempted to go to try and hurt the thing, in turn.

@James

James recoiled as Pride spoke, ears pinning back, head dropping in shame. He was being pathetic and he knew it, but better out than in, right?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, drawing in his wings tightly, refusing to meet Pride's eyes.

The stallion stepped away, legs shaking as he were about to bolt. He wanted to. He wanted to hide away, wanted to stop humiliating himself and to stop acting like such a stupid child.

But he never wanted to step foot in Polaris unless he had to go somewhere.

"I don't want to feel like this," he said, "It's pathetic of me to continue to hate for no reason, I-I have children that are more important than this stupid logic my brain insists is the reason for all of my misery."

If he could take out his brain and leave it somewhere for a while he'd be oh-so-glad. Even better if he could be rid of these terrible emotions for good. He had Sun, Comet, and Aristotle's children to think about.

Maybe he ought to ask for help.

"... I have so many to care for now," he mumbled finally, "Sun, Comet, Peggy. And then Aristotle's four children he left behind. He gave life to them and ended up killing himself trying to give life to too many, leaving them in the care of his son. Sure, I managed to be mostly on my own just fine, but they're already so... reliant on me. What about my own child, too? He was just born and I've left him for two weeks because some stupid owl decided that failure meant a punishment so severe that I chrysalized from it!"

This time James was almost in tears just from the stress of it all, "I-I can't b-be the father Aristotle wanted me too- I never wanted to be! I-I gave life to Peggy so that Comet wouldn't be alone, and now I have seven children relying on me f-for love and support and I-I don't know if I can do it! N-not to mention Tahi's war which of course I said yes because I need to protect my family and I need to make sure Tahi isn't doing something stupid-"

He was pacing now, ears flat, wings ruffled, tail swishing back and forth.

"I-I just can't leave them alone," James said, "Not after I promised them all I wouldn't. I don't know who to ask for help. You and Kaimana already have handfuls of your own to try to raise, I couldn't ask you to help."

Tahi-shei? Probably not. He's busy recruiting anyway.

He was so tired and jumbled up, his thoughts not lining up in his own head. He felt like a bookshelf that had fallen down, everything piled up on the floor with no cohesive order, some pages missing and bindings damaged. His thoughts never felt linear or coherent anymore.

"Even in death," he said, "That damned lion still torments me. He died and just left for me his children to care for, because it would be cruel to let his son try to raise the four of them on his own. Which he left him to do. Coward."

James wiped his eyes and finally stood still, agitated, upset, and stressed beyond belief. He needed a damn vacation.

@Pride

The "I'm sorry" brought the briefest spike of frustration, aggravation, and Pride almost told James to stop apologizing. But then the horse was going on, and there was first frustration in James--('good,' thought Pride), and then he was laying it all out. Explaining it.

Again, he expressed his frustration, helplessness, with being overwhelmed by children far too young--Pride remembered them having had this conversation, and again committed it to memory. He'd warn anyone in the future not to bear any so young--it had half-ruined poor James, taken him from carefree to worn and stressed.

Then he was ranting, angry, and Pride drew himself up a little--and found himself nodding along. "Yes, be angry! You have every right to be. I know you are overwhelmed by having created new life too early, James, but it isn't your fault and you should never blame yourself. As for Comet, she is not a child, James. And one of the best ways to learn is to teach. Might I suggest asking her to help you babysit the others-? Not to lay much on her too early, as was done to you--but simply to help raise the others. I don't know all theri ages," he added, and the word '...seven??' trickled through his brain. He couldn't name half of them--Sun and Peggy weren't names he knew--ahh, Pegasus, perhaps-? "And I think Tahi-shei has learned his own lessons. James, all of those others are not your responsibility. You do realize this-? They are each their own person. We guide our children, offer them support, but you seem to be laying their entire lives and fates on your back. And, tall as you are, you can't carry that much," he added, with wry amusement. "Get your family's help with raising themselves." He didn't offer his own--not yet. He wasn't a babysitter, he didn't know them, didn't live in Pegasus. Perhaps when he visited, he could offer to take them for a day, but at the moment it didn't even occur to him as a solution.

Because, in the end, it wasn't--not really. Most of those in James' list didn't need babysitting, anymore; perhaps the horse only needed realize that for himself.

@James

James sighed, "Neither Sun nor Comet are. Sun was the first child Aristotle and I raised. He went with him when we... split. Sun is already helping a lot, and Comet... oh gosh, she's a blessing. She loves them all so dearly and is teaching them how to hunt, and... and..."

Realization dawned and he looked at Pride, ears down, "I've been an idiot, haven't I? I have been putting this all on myself when the help I've needed has been there all along!"

He groaned and sat down heavily, rump hitting the ground as his wings lifted to cover his face, head hanging in shame. He finally stamped a foot and snorted, ears pinning.

"No," he said firmly, "No more feeling sorry for myself."

James stood up and shook himself off, tossing his head and fluffing up his feathers, "I just... I need to do something to distract myself."

He looked around, ears perking up. He kicked a stone over and looked over at his teacher, brows furrowed in a determined (though he looked more like he was constipated) expression, "Teacher? Do you want to train? Like we used to, back when I wasn't such a mess."

Baby steps.

As if knowing the importance, his magic came to his request, lifting up the rock and spinning it gently in the air before carefully lobbing it towards Pride. If he failed to catch it, it would do no more than land on the ground, but hopefully the deer would accept. Hopefully he knew him well enough.

@Pride

Pride greeted the revelation with silence, with a nod--with relief. It seemed... resolved, then, or mostly so, and he had little more to add; he was finding it draining, already, almost exhausting even. But he was glad that James seemed to be coming to terms with the situation, at least. Perhaps he'd find the help he needed, after all, with that little nudge in (what Pride hoped was) the right direction.

Magic flared out instinctively as the rock came, but with a bit of mischief to it; there was the sound of clattering, but it appeared as if the stone had been caught, lingering midair. And a few others--five, if counted--joined it, lifting to hover near Pride--and then all lobbed lightly toward James before bursting into a display of glitter-trailing Fairyflies.

"I can train, but there's no saying I'll play fairly," Pride replied, amused. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to tackle, though-? I don't know how much you want to speak of the Trial--but if there's something I can do to help." He left the rest unspoken, illusory insects still trailing their flashing trains, Pride waiting with bright-eyed patience for the horse's decision.

@James

James danced back at the lobbed rock, trying to figure out which one was real before they burst into fairyflies, the real one clattering at his feet. He looked up and sighed, brows furrowing.

"It was... a puzzle," he said, "There were three snakes in see through boxes. I was supposed to get them to move to their back of their enclosures where they would fall and land on pressure plates on the ground. I'm not sure if that would have continued the trial or if that was the end of it, but it was mental magic. Unfortunately... it backfired on me, and that's when the walls fell and the snakes with them."

He shuddered and looked down with a sigh, "I'm not sure how you could help me with mental magic. I don't know how the trials are made and if I learn a new ability, will it stay the same?"

James shrugged and frowned deeper. He just couldn't predict what the trail could be, and that frustrated him-

Wait.

"Pride!", he said, "I want you to do something, throw a rock, attack me, anything. I'm going to try and predict it!"

He'd learned the spell after emerging, one he hadn't thought about... but it seemed like every time he went to chrysalis, he learned something new. Something that could help.

Closing his eyes, he breathed out, focusing... on Pride. On what he would do.

@Pride

He was, admittedly, a tad taken aback by the sudden request. He'd been mulling over James's words, trying to think of a good piece of advice to offer--but "throw something" threw him off enough that he paused, silent, and hesitated.

After a beat (confused, but willing) he reached into his magicka pool, like a magician's hand delving blindly into his hat. He wasn't sure which trick he would pull out (and his white rabbit wasn't very close by) at first.

But after a moment, silently Pride's hooves left the ground. He hovered--not a noise made, no clip of hooves to give him away--closer and closer to James, inch by cautious inch, until (only a few seconds later, really) he reached out his nose to attempt to touch the horse's flank. It was a very strange version of a game of tag, and Pride wasn't entirely sure of the point--but he'd play along, for now, and see what James had in mind.

He just hoped he didn't get hurt, somehow, in the bargain.

@James

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