Pride stepped down the incline slowly, picking along the path without any rush, taking nibbles from the foliage as he went. He was grazing his way down to the Eyes, with the idle notion of checking on Aster, should he happen to find her there.

He no longer had to look after her--she rarely asked him to hunt anything, capable enough with her own magic, now. But he still checked in, from time to time.

He'd told her of the children he'd helped to form. She knew--or at least he'd told her--a little of the Sinful Seven, though what she actually took from that was always hard to tell. Aster had always been... otherworldly, in a sense, as if her mind existed just aslant from the rest of the world. Askew. As if it partly dwelt, like Seers he had met, in a slightly different plane.

Pride didn't mind. She was steady company, kind and thoughtful, and he was glad whenever he saw her well. The memory of her pain still haunted his nightmares distantly, at times, and sometimes after such a night, he'd seek her out, fearing for her well-being.

Today, he was merely companionable, and as Aster came into view, he swallowed the last of his leaves and flicked his tail, moving into a floating trot. He slowed again to a stately walk as he came near, lowering his head down with its rack of silver tines, offering her his nose, for a moment, as if to sniff. The diamond plates at his back, belly, throat and neck jingled just a little, the strange glittering circlet around his throat dangling.

"Aster," he said gently, by way of greeting. His voice was melodic, as always, and softly fluting. He lifted his head, glancing around. "Peaceful today, is it not? --Are you well?" he asked, though more with friendly affection than any real concern.

Pride never took note of Aster's strange demeanor--or, at least, he never took offense, nor made mention of it. It was simply her, part and parcel of the strange being that was Aster.

"That is good," he softly trilled, looking over at her leg. That it did not "speak" meant, at least he assumed, that it wasn't hurting. "As are the children. They are both wishing to move off, now--to explore the caves for their own. Azizos has quite the clinical mind; Arsu is a dreamer, still, but that is not a bad thing. He will have stories to tell, I think, like his father, and Azizos may have a fine future ahead of him." As Pride spoke, he idly summoned up ethereal wisps of magicka--creating images of the two children, near full-grown now and elegant. They were as he, in a sense, but maned and muscled, standing tall with lion's tails and unicorns' horns. The image lasted only briefly before fading, Pride not too intent on forcing it to linger. He fell silent, for a moment; sometimes he rambled to Aster, though he wasn't sure how much of it she actually ever took in. But now he was debating whether to mention Charity at all. She was rarely happy, and her interactions--and moreso, her conflict--with her "momma" Envy were bordering, now, on tragic.

Pride thought better of it, and instead looked to Aster, his pale eyes placid. "What is it," he asked amiably, "that the water is saying?"

His gaze shifted down to the Eyes, silver meeting silver as he contemplated the stillness of the surface. He remembered how bitter cold--how unnaturally icy--the waters were, and he remembered the warnings of otherworldly dangers lying within.

If Aster heard them speak, then perhaps it was more than her strange interpretation of them. Though even if it was, he still wished to hear what she heard.

The stag inclined his head, silver tines tilting. "Do so," he agreed, flutingly--and then, in a gesture of amiable good will, attempted to open a link to Aster's mind himself. He felt it flicker into place--gently, with a familiarity like coming home.

I'm here, he thought to her, directly to her mind. Show me, if you wish. I can see.

Ahh, but his magic had improved; sometimes, it was the easiest way to communicate with Aster, as stunted as she found physical language to be. It rarely did her thoughts justice. But he could not recall if he had ever linked to her with this more powerful form of his spellwork, before. He supposed that it hardly mattered.

Idly, and in a friendly fashion, he showed her briefly of his forming of his armor: summoning gems from the rock, shaping them, placing them onto his own body by use of magic. He showed, too, their usefulness in theoretical battle--a few claws slashing off the stone, leaving white hide untouched.

Then he settled back to wait, curious as to what she had seen in the water--or what she'd thought she'd seen. A distant memory flickered up through his mind--perhaps visible to Aster. A fawn--spotted, young, newly-hatched. A single amethyst antler perched atop her head as she peered earnestly toward him, and in his memory, her mouth was moving. "Faces," she was saying, and there was a flicker of imagery. He was viewing the fawn's thoughts, in this memory. Two faces, peering down into the water--jumbled by reflection, or by magic. Cats, perhaps. But they had been here--the fawn performing much the same magic at nearly precisely the same spot. And she, too, had spoken of faces.

Pride found himself peering raptly at Aster, fascinated as to what this might mean--as to what they might both have seen.

He let the link fade--easily, as it did not not matter so much now, and the magic was difficult to maintain. He leaned back, feeling a twinge at Aster's unspoken question--her leg--and then somewhat grimly turning his mind away from that. She was asking how he'd learned. About the armor's comfort. If it could come off.

"It is magic," he began by explaining, and then felt a little foolish for doing so. Hurriedly, he continued. "I have been learning that magic will do whatever you will it to. It can be shaped, directed; I taught myself to form and create stone. This armor was designed to be comfortable, though being without is moreso, of course." He glanced over his shoulder, jingling it a little--it was hard, brittle even. "This was not my first attempt. I failed many others. It hooks into itself--I can maneuver it into place, either with my body or with magic, as well."

He fell silent, his mind shifting back to the Eyes and all she'd said of them. He leaned forward, ears pushing forward, his own pale muzzle dipping to touch its surface. Silvered eyes slipped shut as he tested his own magicka, reaching into the past.

For a moment, he thought he'd left their link open--he was seeing the same things, again. Faces, though a distant sense of dread washed over him. The way they lurked in the dark, leering forward--they seemed outright sinister somehow, or at the very least, ominous--and he realized that his visions were clearer than Aster's had been. He saw, too, the shape more clearly as it rose from the depths--a reptilian Gembound, moving with a speed fuelled, perhaps, by fear as it fled the dark below. He saw it scramble from the waters, and he peered back for a moment himself--back at the Eyes--and, for the briefest instant, he felt... unwelcome.

Startled, he dropped the link, and pulled his head somewhat sharply away. He pushed back up, and away from the waters, pacing around Aster to lay back down in the moss and grass a few feet away.

"I have taught myself to see the past, of things," he said carefully, puzzling over what he'd seen. "I looked into the Eyes and saw what you saw--so I can say with fair confidence that what you saw was in the past. But I saw a little more," he added, glancing worriedly to Aster. "I do not think it to be friendly, nor asking for aid. Something--the thing deeper, that came up--it was fleeing those faces. I do not think they were kind." Pride mulled this over, and then looked back to the still silver pools.

Just what was this water..?