"As safe as can be," Azizos replied politely with a slight nod, smile curling his lip.

As Bolormaa began to acknowledge each question with --- what he assumed to be --- full transparency, the Morning Star idly scraped his hoof across the ground. Rounded ears arched forth to catch every answer given to his burning questions, learning a number of interesting things: magic awaits a simple touch before activating--- though it seemed to go dormant and become invisible even to detection; the pillar-ceremonies existed as tradition and celebration, though their magic seemed to boost the strength of life-giving magics, it seemed. Amplified them, perhaps, to a greater degree of success. A boon of fertility, were they capable of ordinary reproduction. Not that Azizos knew anything about that.

Few joys, back then? The lion-stag wondered idly, head turning to catch his father's own questions a bit more easily--- and the responses were... a bit troubling, weren't they? "He survives, yes--- survives what, exactly?" Azizos glanced down at his hooves, yet more questions rising to the forefront of his conscious. Tightening his mouth into a hard line, he focused on one, his prior thought: "I know you've told me not to worry, to live life as I already am, but--- what do you mean by having few joys, back then?"

A few more queries raged in his head, of course, but better to not ask them all at once, lest one be forgotten, hm?

@Pride

Pride listened quietly.

Despite the cool white of the tunnel, the faintly-lingering floral scent, despite Momma Bolormaa's gentle nature, there was something lingering and ominous about this whole thing. Logical, rather than superstitious, his mind began to examine the situation for what made him feel that way.

Few joys... Unwise to elevate her to his rank in name, though it may be true. It speaks of a time of bleakness, when Astraea was forcibly 'higher' than she. I wonder why? I wonder to what end?

He pushed these thoughts away, for now. He wasn't here for thinking up conspiracies and looking for the dark beneath the light. He was here for his son, for time together, for magic and learning.

Oh, but Azizos had asked precisely what was on his mind. Pride smiled inwardly, proud of his son for his keen mind and gentle nature. He looked back to Bolormaa, intending to offer warm and polite praise, to thank her for taking the time out to speak with them. "It sounds wonderful," he said. "Sometimes life's most simple pleasures are the best ones, after all. These union ceremonies, these bindings--are they permanent? Or does it affect only the single act of creating life?" It was, again, a polite and mild question. He wasn't interrogating her; he had no personal investment in creating new life here and now. But he wondered, vaguely, about how it worked--about what sort of magic it might be, and its relationship to the rest that he already knew.

In all, it was a good day that he had spent with his child--and they had both learned. The conversation drifted into other things, however, and soon the stranger had left them. It was certainly something to think about.

edited into an exit due to inactivity.