ORIGIN

The sudden shift--the revelation, it seemed--in Temperance was wholly unexpected, shocking Pride into silence for a moment. But it wasn't a bad thing; it seemed a sudden maturation, a long-needed change in perspective. Pride, though, did not want his child feeling guilt--never guilt--and he quickly crossed the small distance to offer down his muzzle, the touch he held out gentle.

He had no time to think over what he'd say, instead blurting his thoughts through emotion alone for once, for good or ill.

"No, Temperance, no. You are young; you're not expected to take care of others, now or ever. But looking after each other--that's what family does, hm? It's--good that you bear in mind that others have feelings, certainly, but you haven't done anything wrong." Temperance was right, though, weren't they-? If they'd been too self-centered to think of others, and now they realized as much, that was a good thing. "It's--very good to be aware of others' feelings, though. But I am your parent; I'm meant to be taking care of you. I love you too, I'm here for you too, and if you want to figure something out--we'll help each other, all right?" he said gently.

Undoubtedly it was all open to Mercurius, too: Pride's wonder at this moment, his surprise, his faint confusion. He was always one to look first to logic and it was hard to respond to a child's tears with logic, but he was doing his best to turn to emotion, too, for once. It just wasn't easy.

After a moment offering his whole head down--the slender nose-bridge, the soft muzzle--for touch, he considered something else that Temperance had said. "Nassir had a very kind heart, and I think you do, too; but it's your own, all right? You make what you want of it. What do you mean, though, about this--maybe-anger? Do you want to talk about that?" he asked, hesitating.

Was he moving on too quickly? Or would he have been remiss in not addressing it? Was he saying enough, or not enough--or saying too much?

Parenting was not easy.

"Well, it's good that you realize all of this, I suppose. We can work together to make it better?" The suggestion was gently offered, and then left alone, for now. Temperance was addressing their temper, and it was about time.

Pride turned, as he listened, pacing away with head raised in thought, considering Temperance's words. "You did," he confirmed. "I was hoping that Mercy could help you with that. The reason being, I have never truly conquered my own." This admission was given in a faintly troubled tone: in Pride's mind, Mercy was the calm, gentle one--the one that would handle this far better than he himself ever could. But he buckled to attempt the task, at least, as best he could.

"My temper is latent. It is not the same as yours--that much I can tell you. It takes a great deal to anger me--and it is usually a grave injustice that prompts it." He paused, still facing away, hoof-clicks coming to a halt--his eyes distant. "Perhaps it is not the same, but it is something I have long fought with. With myself, mainly: how much is too much? When is violence justified, in defending others? The Seven are protectors, yes; but where do we draw a line?" He turned back, and memories now had his pale eyes troubled, swimming with half-forgotten fury. "Let me show you," he offered, taking two quick steps toward his child--and then he paused. "Don't be afraid."

Nothing came of it, at first, and Pride hesitated, huffing air from his nostrils. The tense anger in his shoulders, across his frame, loosened some. "If my magic cooperates, and you are willing to see, I will show you a little of my anger in memories. Nothing terrible--no one was hurt," he added... although there was an ominous thread to his tone. It had been a very, very close thing.

"But it troubles me--and as an irony, that is one thing Nassir tried to help me with. To guide my mind when I was too mired in self-doubts about my own anger to see clearly. I do not know how to solve it; but I know a few things that can... help."

But solve-? No; Pride had never solved it.

The bones still fixed atop the Throne could attest to that.

The worst part was, he still wasn't convinced he hadn't been completely right. And at the injustices he remembered--that he debated--he felt his anger rising again. How dare they. How HAD they dared-? His eyes grew distant, and the fur bristled along his neck, his head held a little lower--staring out, at the angry memories, rather than regally upright. It was not a dramatic change, but it was certainly there, and--well, if his magic cooperated, perhaps he could show Temperance. But it was not intended to be about Pride--he wasn't trying to turn the child's issues around onto himself. "I am not trying to eclipse your troubles with examples of my own. I would like to show you that you are not alone in it, that's all. Perhaps together we can find a way to deal with it. But my anger, as I've said, is different from your own. I can try again to show you my memory--and offer some suggestions, if you'll have them."

He gave a little nod as he listened. He was gathering himself for another try, but as it was, he had a lot to go over with his child. But-... 'Do you think that I could find myself a Nassir?' This brought a wince in him, a glance away; what a hard question to have to answer-! "I hope," he began, slowly, "that everyone can find themselves a Nassir. But he was... unique. I've never met anyone else like him, as long as I've been alive," he added, glancing back to Temperance. There'd been other... gentle ones, certainly. Oliver came to mind--one of Rift's former allies, a close friend of Mercurius. But Pride hadn't seen him in some time, and he didn't know him well enough to really recommend him; he'd seemed a little childlike, too. Maybe he could ask Mercurius about him later-?

"But maybe you can find someone. Just... don't make the mistake of thinking of them as serving that purpose for you. That was my error: I saw Nassir as someone to lean on, as a supportive friend. I did not get to know him well enough. I didn't stop, enough, to ask him how he was doing. And that wasn't right," he finished, sadly. It was one of his regrets, certainly--among many in losing his friend.

"But you may be right about Mercy. I don't know for sure. It's an... insightful sort of wisdom, though." I don't know if he's ever been angry, Pride thought, pondering. He knew of Mercy's past--more, he assumed, than the children did. But he'd never had much reason to think that Mercy had ever reacted to that abuse with anger.

...He pushed this thought aside. It wasn't something he wanted Temperance to "overhear;" what Mercy chose to share with them, the details, was his own decision. Pride had something else in mind.

He felt the magic connect; felt the link began to kindle.

"...I think I have it," he said quietly--in warning. "Here." And Pride hoped that Temperance truly wouldn't be afraid.

Orion-... shifted. It was still there, yes: but now beside the Throne, and Pride was now stood near it. The white stag's voice was trembling with rage, raised into a snarling shout. Before him stood a strange, large, greenish cat--a plant-stained sort of mountain lion.

"YOUR trial?! And when I suggested the idea of a trial, did you think it would belong to us alone? Rift, if the Seven--if Envy and I!--had not intervened, you would have ALL been dead. Every one of you, your stones burnt away and risen as goose hybrids for her disgusting army! You owe us your LIVES, your home! And this is how you repay us? By claiming ownership, if the foul bird is still even alive..?"

The image of the white stag took a step forward, each limb shaking with fury.

"If that is your attitude, then I make the rules here, because this is OUR kingdom." Suddenly the cat was lifted--rocketed into the air, propelled--and held--helpless high above. "And with your life and freedom up to me? Who is making the rules now, KING?"

The vision faded--if slowly; and Pride hastened to grimly explain. "That one wished to leave a killer free. Someone who had tormented and killed many, simply for the pleasure of doing so. They invited them to attend the trial of another of their kind--free of consequence--without consulting any of the rest of us. That is my anger. It... flares up at injustice. It isn't like yours, I suppose; slow and simmering, and... irritating to you. But I've had trouble with it, all the same. -I did put him down safely, by the way."

With the link cut off, he added--to himself, quiet in his mind--And was I in the wrong? Somehow--even now--he didn't think so. But again, that wasn't the point. He focused his eyes again on Temperance. "As for suggestions on how to deal with it..? I find that... meditating, some, works. I can teach you what I know of that, if you like. Stopping, counting to ten, focusing on my breathing--when I'm very angry. But sometimes, it feels like that only makes it worse. At the very worst, leaving a situation rather than erupting into violence is preferable. Cold water--as silly as it sounds--can help; if I dip my legs in, in Eridanus, it's sometimes a little calming." He shrugged, a little; past that, who was to say? He was hardly the person to consult on temper, given how he'd erupted in the past.

His ears swept forward, when it was done, and he ran his mind back to what Temperance had said just before he'd begun. "Friends are a good thing to have, Temperance. That's very wise; and it's a good idea. You help them, and they help you, certainly, but sometimes merely... company, having fun together--learning, exploring. It is worthwhile." It struck him only now that neither of his children really had any outside friends, and this was something of a revelation; was this where he'd gone wrong? They'd been cooped up, here, without anyone to share their experiences or their worries with. It hadn't occurred to him merely because he'd never been the very social sort, himself: self-sufficient... until he wasn't.

"Maybe you can meet someone?" he suggested, and then--thinking--"we could host a gathering here, at some point, if you wish. If that strikes your fancy, you could help me to find food and decorations. It's been done before, and it might give you time to meet strangers if you like. Or you can simply explore: go out and meet others, and see how you get along--trade perspectives and so forth. But on the topic of Rift," he went on, and his hopeful voice slowed, became something a little more... wary. "Be wary who you trust. Not everyone is kind. I've said this before but I'll explain it now. There have been those in the caves, in the past," (and possibly still were, if the black wolf-beast was still around somewhere) "who have tormented, harmed others, simply because they can. For power, for bloodthirst. There were those who took children and abused them, turned them into violent servants to serve their own goals. One of those has bones now laid atop the Throne; I helped to kill her. Another was captured--the leader of a family who was doing such things throughout the cave, and someone who had attacked me, too, when I was young. She was to be trialled, fairly, before a jury of her prior victims--to allow them to decide her fate fairly."

He paced away a little, thinking back--not stressed so much as trying to remember all the details, and trying to phrase them to not be so damn terrible. But it was a thing that was hard to sugar-coat. "Rift led a group in Eridanus who cared for the plant life there, particularly after a couple fires ravaged the place. They'd grow trees, and the like--Mercy was among them, gardening, tending the flowers and so on. We--the Seven--had offered to trial Blackberry... that is the goose who was leading these attackers. These Gembounds, her group, her f-" (Pride averted saying 'fucked up' just in time) "-foul family, had attacked and tortured, tried to kill, many of Rift's gardeners in a coordinated attack. The Seven came to their aid and together we drove them off, but not without many returning to their stones." He glanced solemnly at Temperance. "Rift wished to trial the family leader, and offered amnesty for this trial's attendence to another of the family who was potentially even worse. A true brute, and one that revelled in sadism and in spilling blood. And he said, without asking our opinion, that she could join this trial without restraint or attack." Anger threaded into his voice, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned away. "As for why-? I believe a sense of fair play and mercy, one that Mercy or Nassir might have shared, but not me. After seeing what she had done, I would have seen her ended rather than put others again at risk."

"Yes, it still bothers me. I told him that we would kill her on sight. That such savagery would not be tolerated; for if we spared her now, who else might she harm in the future-? These questions have no easy answers. Reacting violently isn't the right thing, as Mercy will tell you, but that is where my trouble lies: in gauging where a moral line must be drawn." He didn't sound troubled; he sounded quiet, firm, granting a lesson just like any other. "I don't know what's happened to Rift, since. The trial never occurred. They went into hiding after angering a Master, and Rift never returned, so far as I'm aware. Mercy did, and left them; I think the entirety of their group is now gone, ahh-... split apart. Blackberry and her brood were mostly unaccounted for, so--be careful," he explained, with another look to his child.

"That's a dark bit of the cave's history, and I'm sorry you have to hear it. But it may be good for you to tour the caves, to meet strangers who might become friends--but to be warned that not all of them will be." And they'd asked, after all; asked who Rift was, and the like.

Well-... now, for better or for worse? They knew. This talk had gone a fair bit beyond discussion of Nassir, and Pride wondered if this were a good thing, or a bad one.

It pleased him that Temperance had warmed so quickly to the idea, and Pride dipped his head, more relaxed than he had been. Good-! Good, if he could find a way to give the child some form of joy, he'd do it.

The words of sympathy--and philosophy, morality--had Pride dipping his head again, albeit more solemnly, now. "It certainly is okay to hope, or else we become like they are, seeing everyone as enemy or victims. Even if we feel we must turn to violence, perhaps it is best to do so with reluctance and regret; to indulge in it as an easy solution and feel nothing is a dangerous game." This response was quiet, thoughtful, and in retrospect he realized perhaps a little heavy for one Temperance's age--but the cub wasn't simple-minded by any means. "Your opinions, your values--they may change as you grow, and with experience, but never lose sight of that hope, as you say. There will always be good in the world, and we should look for it."

As for the idea of a party, and how to arrange it-? Pride considered. "You know, it might be very good for all your siblings if we hosted it as a family-? I realize that perhaps... you should have been given more chance to explore and meet new friends as you grew, even young. It might do them good--do you think?--to meet others, too; you could speak to them first? See what sort of things they might like--maybe Tobie would like a certain food, or Cas might like some specific decorations--and you can help them plan it?" It might do good for Temperance to feel they were doing something for their siblings; and the planning alone--having control over something, and creative freedom--might also help them some? "And when you've picked a date, perhaps... if you want to? You could travel the caves a bit, either alone or with one of us, and invite anyone you like. New friends or total strangers," he went on.

He paused, pondering. It would give Temperance a chance to do something with themselves, something to focus on and succeed in. And a reason to get out there, to meet others, maybe. "Mercy and I could help you decorate, of course, if you want any of that. Flowers, lights--you name it. What do you think?"

Hopeful--worried--he waited, to see if this new spark of inspiration would continue in the cub, to see if he'd said the right thing. Caves, he hoped he had.