Pride stepped quietly from the garden, leading the way out into the open air. It was night, by the cave's standards, now--misty, and dim, a faint chill to the air. It wasn't cold, but it was a little cooler than could be called "pleasant," and Pride drew himself in just a little.

He was silent for a moment, though he could hear Mercurius's ever-gentle paws padding behind him on the soft earth. His ears flicked back, and he turned to watch him, solemn and quiet. His mouth was a little tight; after the strange display with the children, he was worried. The lion's magic had seemed to backfire, somehow, and showed... something that Pride did not think was random, not by any means. And Mercurius' reaction, his terrified breaths and utter loss of composure as he'd stammered a frightened explanation, had genuinely disturbed the stag.

Once they had been standing in the quiet, for a few minutes--Pride's ears reassuring him that Arsu and Azizos yet slept--he spoke, softly. "What was that, Mercurius? ...Who was that?" He turned, his silvery eyes ghostly pale in the dark, searching Mercurius' face for an answer.

An answer that he was just a little afraid of.

Pride listened, his expression studious and concerned, his ears pressed forward to catch every single word. He forgot about the cool night air, he forgot the mist, and the quiet hum of insects in the forest. Instead he was picturing Mercurius's words in his mind--and trying to imagine what they meant.

A white doe, a light-painter of stories and worlds. Kind. Mercurius, named Beast? --and slave to--a stag! Pride felt a strange surge of something that, in brief examination, he could only define as betrayal. The lion had a traumatic past with a stag, and hadn't told him..? Why? Pride felt sympathy, though--pity--seeing the pain that it so obviously put Mercy through. He himself wasn't angry, but he was a little hurt. Mercurius had kept this from him..? Or perhaps-... Perhaps he'd only been in too much pain to speak of it. One didn't like to tear open old wounds.

The mention of the darkness, though, worried him. It sounded more literal than anything--and what was Belladonna?

Another thought struck him, too--an awful one. A stag, and a white deer..? He was a white stag, and he had no idea how he'd come into existence. Could he be..? Worried, he pushed that thought away, and began to speak--only after a long, thoughtful moment of silence.

"Let me... ask questions, as I do not understand this all. You were called Beast, and a slave to a stag..? Why did you not tell me of this?" He didn't say it in a demanding tone, but rather, an earnest one. "He brought this doe, this Clover, but he was touched by what you call darkness, and it affected her too? What is a Belladonna?" He paused, nostrils flaring, thinking. "Is this darkness--literal, a magic? Or do you refer to emotions, Mercurius?"

He didn't want to outright give his suspicions, either, about his potential heritage--as slim a chance as it was. Perhaps he had been their child, and Mercurius had known all along..? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to tell him? "May I ask--what magic, what stones, the stag and doe had? And where it was that they lived? I assume--that they are both gone, now." He didn't say why he was asking--and maybe Mercurius would be too caught up in his own emotions to notice, or at least Pride hoped--but Pride's question held a distinct thread of thinly-veiled nervous tension.

Pride listened with that faint and focused frown. At the mention of Orion he felt a jolt spark through him. He'd been born there. What if..? What had happened to this Hasira's son?

He hesitated, troubled.

"I have no idea who shed the stone that bore me, nor who gave it life. Golden does not sound like anything like mine, and I have never been angry bar once, and I certainly wasn't watching it. I was born in Orion, though; what did this son of the stag looked like?" He looked away, thinking.

"You could have spoken of it at any time. You needn't hide anything from me and I certainly apologize at turning the conversation toward myself, but the idea that I might be related bothers me. It seems an odd coincidence, but you needn't fear me trying to hold myself to any standard. I am me. Though I do apologize that you had to go through that," he added, glancing to Mercurius again.

He didn't know what the lion had undergone. He studied him, but he couldn't imagine how a stag could ever bully a lion, even a cub. What had he done to him? Physically hurt him, or harmed him, perhaps, with magic..? Belittled him? It wouldn't do to ask; and if the stag was dead, now, then there was little reason to pry. He took a breath, wondering how to proceed. "And I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. I've met one other in the caves touched by horrid rage--I've mentioned to you, I think. I wonder if it is something more visceral, ahh--a true disease, magic or the like--than we realize. I won't press you on it further; but if you ever wish to speak of it, I am interested in listening." Not interested in hearing; it wasn't for him, and he was careful to phrase it as such. Yes, he was curious, but it wasn't a favor he was asking, it was an offer that he was making.

If Mercurius ever wanted to speak of his past trauma, Pride's ears would be open.

He hesitated, and then rather impulsively added--"But Mercurius, as for having to pity you--of course I would pity you for having gone through that. Anyone would, though more the child than who you are now. Who you are now remains the same--I think you have overcome it all, as best we can overcome anything, admirably. You are one of the kindest and most reasonable Gembound I know. No--the kindest."

Pride reflected on all of this.

A little humorously, gently--trying to lighten the mood--he spoke. "I have never met nor heard of this Kingsfoil, but--a golden crown, truly? How gaudy. My own, I think, is far more classy than that." He gave a joking stamp of one hoof, a teasing toss of his head, all terribly melodramatic; it was clear it was a joke, too, given that he hardly valued such things. It wasn't that he didn't value beauty--but it certainly wasn't an achievement, bar keeping oneself clean.

Then again, he'd made a golden crown for Envy, had he not? And Reign had been hatched with precisely the same sort of gem.

A little more soberly, he considered this, his head tilting. "You know, thinking of it, I have met another with the same sort of stone--a crown, and golden-hued. A cat, though--a cheetah; perhaps it is a sign of some kind, that of a potential leader or the like. Or shares a kinship with certain magics? I'd never considered that some gemstones might be aligned with certain mag--..." He trailed off apologetically, glancing at Mercurius. "Tsk, look at me; I ask you to speak, and then run your ears off with my own words. I apologize."

He reached out, long neck stretching, to offer a warmly friendly nose-nudge to Mercurius--an apology. A reassurance of friendship. A reassurance... in general.

"Mercurius," he told him more gently, "is an excellent name."

Pride tossed his head a little in a nod, looking away in thought; his gray gaze travelled over the myriad leaves shifting in the dim light. They seemed to sparkle, or dance, and to him the glittering of dewdrops seemed to be something from a slightly different world.

"Mm, I think potential is a word I chose quite precisely--potential can be ruined. And most certainly, others can develop well, lead, without any crown. I simply wonder at it--at whether gemstones and their placement hold any significance."

At Mercy's comment at his own name, he glanced at him, a little warmly. "Thank you. It is the emotion I felt on hatching, and always have; Reseda and the others insisted that it was 'sinful,' which in my opinion is frankly ridiculous. Pride is what drives us to better ourselves, to do the best we can, to never let down those that we care for. Certainly, there is a fine line to arrogance--pride that we perhaps do not deserve, gloating as being better than others--but alone, it is the opposite of shame, and that can never be a bad thing." Uncharacteristically, Pride's voice held a measure of emotion in this--it wasn't cold logic, though it was just as considered and exactingly-phrased as always. Instead, though, there was a dim passion in it, as though this topic was something he had thought on quite deeply.

He fell silent, and turned back to face Mercurius. "So; have you ever spoken to anyone else of Clover, and Belladonna? Or of this other stag?"

Pride's gaze was inquisitive as he suddenly turned the questions back toward Mercurius--but gently so. He seemed worried; perhaps he was trying to gauge whether the lion had ever been able to speak of this before, to vent to another, to work through his feelings.

Certainly, given the magnitude of the events as Mercy had presented them, it was important to do so.