("Pride, these children are innocent, trust me. They have been manipulated to fight a war that is not theirs.")

That was what he had said, mustering up a flurry of vines against his dear friend just as ozone began to crackle and pop in the air. Mercurius had sighed, the glow of glimmering moonstone dulling slightly as he cast the vines back into their canopy — watching as the white stag conjured pitch-black cages around the chrysalises. Then, dutifully so, Pride had gone in search of the missing bloodberries: the source of all of this trouble.

I hope that he does not find them, he thought quietly, staring at the chrysalises, I have never seen such... anger, in his gaze. At least their sons were safe and sound; the garden was yet untouched and undiscovered. Mercurius had lulled them to sleep with a wondrous, if hurried story, then immediately set to the scene of the war.

A scene which featured, most peculiarly, a unicorn. The creature was similar to Arsu and Azizos, though clearly grown and clearly different. There was an influence other than a lion or a stag's, here. Plant life flourished from the being's snout. Mercurius smiled warmly as she welcomed plants into the world, reminded dearly of the more dreamy and whimsical of the twins. With a little burst of magicka, the pale beast approached, head low and spiralling horns glimmering in the orb-light.

"I know that you didn't intend to greet me," he rumbled, with clear humor in his voice, "but hello, as well." Moonlit gaze turned to the plants, briefly, urging them to grow further. Slowly, but surely, grow they did. Each little sprout yawned higher, leaves frilling out and buds sprouting delicate white blooms. "Would you mind if I offered a little help? This — hm — battlefield is quite large."

Ah, he had frightened yet another poor creature of these caves --- and nearly out of their wits, too. Mercurius immediately lowered his head, appearing far more submissive than he did already. His tail flicked once, twice, then settled to be half-between his legs. "Ah, I should be the one apologizing," the pale beast deflected, "my presence should have been made clearer."

There was no point in dwelling on the fact.

"You live here? It's odd that I have yet to see you about; my name is Mercurius, and I live here as well," he rumbled, a hint of curiosity giving a lilting edge to his voice. Oddly at comfort and ease with this creature of the woods, (perhaps it is the similarity to the Stars) Mercurius nodded his head in some odd direction, away from the battlefield, "Travel that way, and you will find my garden, if you ever wish to visit."

The old storyteller paused for a moment, then shifted slightly to face away from Ayr. Moonlit eyes glinted in the orb-light as his spiralling horns did, urging forth magic. A sprawling carpet of amaranths seemed to emerge from nothing, pushing up from the veritable pit at the heart of the battlefield. "I've been working on this, too, as well as another, Oliver --- have you met him?" The sprouts quickly surged up into dense growth, offering forth many leaves and odd blooms. A faint, floral scent pervaded the air, pleasant despite the blood and gore lying about. "He's quite a bit smaller than me, with a canine face and the forelimbs of a bird's wings. He is kind, and grows plants, too."

Though, lately, the crow-dog had been absent, and Mercurius worried for his well-being.