Mercurius chuckled unwittingly, "I wouldn't call myself a protector. You seem to fit the title better." Then, the moonstone came to life too, a palpable glow rather enthralling to him. "Like the roots of plants," a teary-eyed smile fell upon his face as he scuffed his paw along the minuscule shard of stone before him, "they will prosper, I think."

Then, he was given another choice. To remain here, attempting to tame the wilderness of what once was his beloved safe space, or to return to a truer home and nurture the youth in solitude. Solitude, it seemed, wasn't the most pleasurable thought to him. Flora and fauna of all sorts grew in Eridanus, yet the grove was a place of isolation. At least, here, they had more space to practice their magicks, if they so wished.

Moonset eyes blinked, sending more delighted tears down his cheeks, as he rocked up to his feet. He took a step or two forward. At the middle, between the two stones, he began to bury his claws into the dirt. A shallow hole formed, Mercurius gently nosed the diamond shard into it and stepped back. "They should be here, among us and your allies. The grove has survived well without me."

With a genuine Duchenne smile, the pale lion marveled over his imagined images of the children, "I think they will be beautiful, pure, with spindling horns and antlers that capture the stars."

@Pride

Pride watched Mercurius smiling. It was unsettling, in a sense--almost a snarl of white fangs--but he knew its origins, and so remained unafraid. The tears, too--unnatural, but bittersweet. He leaned forward, pressing his nose briefly to the lion's, a kind and affectionate gesture.

"That sounds beautiful; but their looks are not what will matter. Though-..." and here he eyed Mercurius, amused. "Honestly, I think it would be difficult for our offspring to ever be hard on the eyes. You are beautiful, and I of course am completely perfect," he added, with obvious humor, and a mock-strut for a moment--showing off nothing in particular. "Caves, that felt silly even in joking," Pride said then, and laughed good-naturedly.

He then fell a little more sombre, though still kind-eyed, as he looked to Mercurius. "We shall remain fast friends, I think. Raise them together, yes, but-... If you ever require my aid, Mercurius, or even just--wish to speak, or the like. You know you have but to ask, yes?"

Gently, he nudged the shimmering moonstone forward. He nosed out a hole beside the diamond, and with a final touch, plunged the stone in. "I do not know if I am a protector, either, but together we shall guard them." He stood up straight, looking down at the gems, and quietly agreed--"Like the roots of plants."

@Mercurius

Mercy couldn't help but to appreciate the gesture, a flick of his tail indicating such. A bark of laughter erupted from him as the deer strutted, sticking his legs out real far. "Ah, no. Looks don't matter at all, but I think they will be the best of the two of us." With a chortle, he added, "perfection, even." He couldn't imagine any horrific result from his nor Pride's stone. Despite the shortness of their friendship, neither seemed to bear an overwhelming number of skeletons in their closets. Purity and kindness reigned well between them, and Mercurius truly hoped that the children would, indeed, be the best of them.

His ears flickered forward, watching as the deer buried the bit of moonstone, a tender smile on his own face. "I know, and I must thank you already. Now, later, forever." Moonlit eyes shifted up into Pride's silvery gaze, warm and full of light. "I am grateful that we met, no matter how recent it was."

"We will guard them," Mercurius repeated, continuing the trend of confirming phrases.

@Pride

Pride let out a quiet laugh, and looked over the stones. Once again he tried to summon up a little mist, to add some magic to the untended grove--a little bit of drifting fog, a little bit of atmosphere.

It took some effort, after his granting life to the stone, and stone to Mercurius--but it came, in time, if faintly. His pale eyes looked placidly about as the dew gathered on the leaves, and he smiled as best a stag could. It wasn't a snarl like Mercurius's, but it was there, and it was visible.

"...There. It's a start. Let them drink, and maybe they'll forgive you and let you tend them," he joked. "We could bring plants from Eridanus, too, perhaps--and grow beds, again? Perhaps I should begin to learn your magics," he added, with a smirk toward Mercurius.

For now, though, he found himself abruptly weary. The use of magic--the creation of life... he slowly drew himself down, curling around one side of the stones, blinking contentedly up at his friend.

"I think I have said it before, Mercurius, but it is strange to me how strongly you feel of an old friend. Thank you for this. It was a surprise, yes, but-... I am glad for it."

I will need to introduce him to Envy, and the rest, I suppose. I doubt he would have any interest in joining them--hell, I wouldn't have, but for what I owe Envy--but they should know that he is here, and a friend, not to be harmed. With this mental note firmly in place, Pride looked down at the "planted" gemstones once again, and laid his antlered head beside them.

The exhaustion was overcoming him, and the grove was still wildly untended, but-... somehow, none of that seemed to matter. He was here, with his friend, with their soon-to-be children, and they were safe--and their future was bright.

"We will tell them many stories, Mercy," he murmured, and with a smile, his eyes slipped shut.

exit Pride
@Mercurius

A faint mist rose in the air, emanating from Pride's influence. Mercurius, as usual, did not need to delve deeper into the workings of the wild plants to know that they appreciated it. Dew gathered eagerly upon the leaves. Then, the deer spoke of gifts to the plants, to make up for his abandonment. "Ah, perhaps! I can host them while we travel there and back, so that they don't die on the way," the lion said rather excitedly, already beginning to plan that he would bring his trefoils and wheatgrass here, to form soft beds for the children to lie upon. "I would be endlessly happy to teach you about them, if you'd allow it."

Pride wearily curled about the buried stones, tiredness blatant but not undeserved. Mercurius himself was rather exhausted, joints aching from their travels. "If you tell no one," he began, already chuckling, "then we could be old friends." As the deer's eyes slipped close with sleep, Mercurius laid his own head upon his paws. "We will," he whispered softly, closing his eyes and beckoning forth a gift of his own: light, soft and warm, emanating from his pelt, nurturing the plants alongside the mist.

; exit Mercy