Mercurius had begun to lead the way once he and his companion arrived in the crystalline room. Interestingly, the sting of smoke and fire and brimstone filled his nose, and he forced a shuddering exhale of breath and the shake of his head. He paused, paws and overgrown claws scuffing against the stone as he lifted his head slowly, gazing over the cliff's edge. Moonlit eyes glanced back to Pride as he apologized gently, "forgive me. It's been a while since I've been here." Oddly enough, his paws were unused to this stone, yet so intimately familiar with it. It had been so long since he was last properly here. Cycles and cycles, marching on and on.

Clearing his throat, he started a story of his own volition, moving down the path as he peered about. "It was snowing once in a time. White filled the world, cold seeping into your bones and blinding you. And there was a creature lying in the drifts," he paused, lowering his head, plodding forth as he tried to remember how exactly the tale went. "It had its legs tucked close to itself, huddling against the raging winds that teased and spoke horrid things to them, encouraging them to give up and sleep." Moonset eyes glanced to and fro, staring down a broken alley and another, before cantering down another. "But... this creature did not listen. It did not want to. It had somewhere to go. Someone to reach in the wasteland."

He hesitated for a moment in his steps, glancing to the tower on high. "It wanted to go to a broken, ancient tower, with carvings and paintings all around the inside. These pictures told secrets unknown, whispering all sorts of things that would help it. But, the way was cold, long, arduous. Seemingly infinite." Mercurius knew the story seemed juvenile, on-the-fly, but it was something to help him think. He moved down another corridor. "But the creature had prepared, furiously studying so that it new everything it could. It grew a coat of white fur, staying warm, standing up in the snow. It pushed on through the cruel, biting winds. A stranger emerged from the flurry, a silhouette at first, but then appearing just like it. It spoke, shouting above the winds, 'I can't allow you to go to the tower.' The creature backed away, shouting, 'Why? There are many I could save!' Its copy sighed, speaking into its mind, 'There's too many secrets. They could bring harm. I won't let you go near the tower.'"

The pale beast furrowed his brow for a moment, stopping again so he could stumble over deeply buried memories of a snow-laden Eridanus. Certain he missed some part of the story, he continued, "the creature cried, 'then teach me!' The storm grew stronger, colder, more ravenous. It threatened to consume the creature and its doppelganger. The copy nodded, motioning for the creature to follow through the blizzard, into a tunnel that seemed to appear from nothing. They entered together, into the darkness. There were many columns and the stone was cobbled with many bricks, delicately placed in ancient times. Decay was evident all about the room. At the end was a great mirror, impossibly clear, framed in gold."

Mouth falling into a straight line, he shoved his way through another alleyway, glancing back to see that Pride still followed, "the copy spoke, finally, 'this mirror will allow you to take any form,' and shifted so that it no longer imitated the creature, but something entirely different. 'You may use it to collect your own secrets,' it said, waving a hand. And the creature thought about it, thinking that it could become a stranger, become a noble beast, defend and destroy. So it strode forth, into the mirror." Had it been like water? No. Shallower. "It stepped into the mirror, and the world fell silent, dark. Impossibly dark. Creatures great and small emerged into sight. Dragons, bears, lions, deer."

He frowned as verdant growth came into view, stifling his voice. "---I... don't remember the rest of the story," he half-lied, ears flickering back as he circled the thicket. The entrance was... smaller than he had remembered. His mind was too distracted to properly cast magic, as he spurred a soft glow in his horns. He willed the overgrown wall of plants to move, to make way. Yet, nothing came. A disappointed sigh echoed from his lips as he made to clear his mind. "Sorry, magic's... fickle, when I'm thinking of a lot."

@Pride

Pride followed along, quietly, his delicate steps clicking hoof to stone. He listened to Mercurius's hesitant tale, and he sensed that something lay beneath--something only hinted at in the shuddering exhales, in the pauses, in the furrowed brow. Pride eyed him sidelong, but did not interrupt, did not press him; only at length, long after the lion had fallen silent, and when it became clear that Mercurius would not continue, did he speak.

"That is a shame," Pride said, quiet but warm. "I am curious as to what happened. This tower?" the stag asked, glancing back at the Tower of Orion.

He looked forward, to the growth before them, hidden as it was so deeply in the ruins. He'd never seen this place--never caught sight or scent of it--and was fascinated at once as to what might lay within. Cautiously he approached, and when Mercurius seemed unable to do... something, he guessed that it was opening an entrance. He couldn't be sure, however.

Gently he gathered his magicka, and gentler still he reached out with his mind, touching the walls of foliage and curling them aside to form an entrance of sorts--a way in, a way past, without harming the plants.

He turned to gaze at Mercurius, his expression somehow ancient and self-possessed, as if filled with kindness, wisdom, and infinite patience. It was the lion's presence that did it to him, somehow--that lent him that patience, that willingness to aid.

"I hope I do not overstep," he said softly. "Despite hatching in this cave, despite living much of my life here, I have never even seen this place. It is well-hidden, as are all your secrets, it seems--please, after you." A polite, low sweep of his tines, and he stepped aside.

@Mercurius

"Yeah," he said simply, an unsaid 'maybe later' at the end of his voice as his eyes narrowed at the wall of brambles and vines. Mercurius stared pensively at the plants, trying to conjure forth magic into his gemstone, but he was beat to the proverbial punch by the gentle movement of plants to open the passage once more. "Oh. Not at all," he said simply, a grateful smile on his face as he hunkered down and plodded through the opening.

The garden was in quite a deal of disrepair, yet overgrown fiercely like the one he had awakened to in Eridanus. What had once been a ring of moss at its heart was now an overgrown mass of spores and sprouts. His once-named plants had grown tall and mighty, winding deeply into one another. He hummed softly, glancing at the baubled lights lost within their leaves. Left unchecked, they would not allow other plants to grow. It had been like this for cycles, it seemed, as the floor was rather dry and lifeless. For a start, he pushed forth a burst of magicka, finding himself met with nothing but a fickle rivulet of energy that stirred but one leaf. The plants had made their choice, and he would respect it dutifully.

"This garden wants to stay wild, it seems," he chuckled softly, peering back to Pride.

@Pride

Pride glanced to Mercurius, somewhat bemused by his statement--he could not, of course, know what it was that the lion was attempting to cast.

He didn't worry about it overmuch, though. He was too at ease in the lion's company to worry about the details. Instead he stepped within the grove, looking slowly around him.

He took in the baubled lights, the overgrown moss and plants, and imagined to himself what this place must have once looked like. The lights themselves must have lent it a truly ethereal beauty, back when it was managed, in a sense--but even wild, there was a strange otherness to it, as if he'd stepped into an ever-so-slightly different world. It was like the Eridanus garden, but... different.

Pride did not know that he was, in a sense, stepping into Mercurius's past--and a darker past than he realized; he didn't know that this had been the lion's refuge and his haven. He knew only that the garden had clearly been tended with care, and with, he imagined, love. With a bow of his head he stepped through, looking over the plants quietly.

He tried to summon up his mists, to fill the place with a gentle fog, as he had in Eridanus--but his own magic also seemed to want to defy him, and instead he saw the dust intensify, the air drying even further. Brow perked, and he glanced at what was, once again, his host.

"I am trying to draw forth mist," he explained, "but my magic does not seem to want to do so." Quietly, each hoof precisely-placed, he circled the grove. Pale eyes looked over each plant, wondering at the care that must have gone into placing and growing each and every one. As his circuit came to a finish he turned to regard Mercurius warmly.

"You spent a great deal of time here, too, I take it--but it seems you have not been here in an age, as you say. May I ask why you left it?" It was not accusatory, but rather curious; it seemed odd, to him, to put so much love and effort forth and then to simply abandon the results. Perhaps the lion had found himself busy elsewhere, or perhaps he had left this place for a reason, but Pride wondered what the answer might be.

Given Mercurius's abilities in storytelling, the answer might even be wound into something fascinating--assuming, that was, that the stag was not prying too far.

@Mercurius

Mercurius mulled gently over his past, the time he spent curating this garden and cultivating its many lush plants. It had all been hopes to soothe the stag king Vazi, Hasira, whatever name he went by, to perhaps make amends for a crime he couldn't have possibly committed. Later on, it had been a place of peace and solitude when his thoughts raced and he felt the need to hide. The smokey smell was dredged up again, and the pale beast flared his nostrils in an attempt to dispel it.

"These plants do not want our help, it seems," he spoke rather casually, making his own circuit about the overgrown grove, "perhaps, it is upset I abandoned it without saying goodbye." Then, moonlit eyes dancing with all sorts of colors, he glanced to Pride, ears flicking forth at the question. A sigh emanated from the pale lion, slipping softly from inky lips. Mercurius plodded toward the overgrown moss pile and sat down.

"There was once a little cub who was all skin and bones," the beast began, detaching himself softly from his past, "who wanted nothing more for the cruel king to be soothed, to find solitude and softness in his life, because he did not understand the king's brutality." Phantom pains moved down his ribs, his back, his face, and his hide twitched involuntarily. "But, when he was freed, he did not dare return until he knew the king was calmed or dead, until he knew that the demon-bear that nearly killed the king was gone." Able to keep his sorrow and grief in, he simply shifted a paw over the overgrown mosses, scattering spores into the dry air. "I left because I wasn't safe. Too much was happening for me to be."

@Pride

Pride pricked forward his ears. The mention of such fear and violence was terrible, of course, but he couldn't help but be enthralled at the idea of an ancient king in Orion. Was it one of the Three Kings? It couldn't possibly have been Envy themselves, could it? Why were there so many who wished to call themselves "King?"

"A King?" he asked, quiet and curious. "I have met many who would call themselves 'king.' May I ask which one this was?" He paused, then, eyeing Mercurius. The lion was clearly... touched, by his own story, and not in a good way. He was doing a good job of hiding whatever it was, whatever emotions gripped him, but Pride felt that it must be something fairly deep to affect him so.

More than that, the story of a skin-and-bones cub was clearly, this time, his own. He spoke of being freed--and yet of leaving; he spoke of a demon that fought the king, a bear. Who were these Gembound? Had Pride known any of them? He half-wanted to ask who they were, to try and match description to memory, but realized at once that this might hurt Mercurius even worse. Instead, he carefully asked, "Were the others... anyone I would have known?"

The question was asked gently, head tilting, as he stood there in Mercurius's grove. He didn't want to pry, to press; yet at the same time Mercy was his friend, and he also did not want to brush the story away as if it had not just been partly shared with him.

@Mercurius

"A king," Mercurius confirmed, ears doing quite the opposite of the deer's. "His names were Vazi, Hasira. He was... a stag, unlike you." He did not mean this in any discriminatory, mean way, and he quickly cleared his throat of the implications of it. "He was red, with a great many scars toward the end of his life and a stone at his core."

Inky lips pulling into a straight, thoughful line, he contemplated softly if, in fact, Pride would have known them. The demon-bear was, before it haunted Mercurius's dreams and waking moments, rather known by the stag king. The stag king himself and his reign of terror was known. It had shattered the caves in two, pitting innocence against bloodshed. But that had been... so long ago, back when he was young. Pride had yet to carry the world-weary demeanor so many Gembound from the pale beasts's time did, aged and worn. There was youth left, yet. Mercurius smiled softly at this, dipping his head.

Finally, he responded simply, "I don't think so."

Then, not quite meaning to change the subject but unable to segue smoothly, he glanced to Pride's stone, embedded into his chest and protruding in many places. "I've... made a decision, I believe. About the question you asked me." Mercurius tilted his head downward further at this, steadying himself on one paw and raising his other. His stone glowed gently, quietly, spiraling horns giving off a soft clink! as he pawed at it. From the side, inconspicuously, a small sliver of moonstone came from it. Wordlessly, he scuttled it across the ground, nudging it so that it sat on the cool stone before the deer. "I... would like to bring life to the world... as I would a story."

@Pride

Pride startled, just a little, at the description of Vazi--of a stag, unlike himself, yet--... a stag, nonetheless.

It was the first mention of another of his kind that he had ever heard of. Another stag. Like him. Uneasy, he peered at Mercurius--yet before he could speak, the white lion was continuing, and Pride kept quiet. And the lion's offer awed him. His pale eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees, antlers sweeping low, as if kneeling before his friend.

"I-... did not expect it to be so soon, or so sudden," he said softly, peering down at the tiny sliver of moonstone. He considered, and in turn, closed his eyes--a shimmer of his own magicka briefly visible around the central gemstone at his throat. It did not float forth in a bright shimmer, or even clatter with glinting light--instead, the small sliver of diamond simply fell, as had the moonstone, and Pride used his soft nose to push it toward Mercurius.

"A gift, in turn. Your tale of this... Hasira reminds me that I still do not know who birthed me--who gave the stone or the magic that created my life." He lifted his gaze solemnly to Mercurius, pulling the lion's stone close, preparing to infuse it with his own magicka. "Let us raise them carefully, and well--so that they know who created them, and value life, kindness, and the stories that our existences weave--and many tales beyond."

A gentle smile, a bow of his head, and he pressed his nose to the moonstone, preparing.

@Mercurius

Mercurius watched as his companion knelt, a rather shocked expression upon the deer's face. "I apologize for... the suddenness of it all," the pale beast murmured, staring down into the sliver of moonstone he had placed before Pride. Then, in turn, the deer cleaved a small sliver of diamond from his own throat, falling on the floor with a gentle tink! It clattered softly as it was pushed toward Mercurius, a mutual exchange.

"Perhaps... we will never know, in our lifetime," he mourned quietly before lowering his head to the impossibly small shard, "but they will. They will dream as we have, live as we have, and create their own story." With that final impetus, almost, the lion pressed his nose to the diamond stone. Distantly, he could feel some part of his energy being sapped into it, flowing gently and imbuing the shard with a tell-tale glow. Life. Moonset eyes sparkled, shimmering in all colors in the light. "We..." he whispered breathlessly, "we've done it." An awed quirk of his eyebrows later, and he felt tears nearly slip through. There always had been something enchanting about bringing forth life from the earth, beckoning plants to grow where they hadn't. But this? This was something beautiful.

It brought honest-to-god tears to his eyes. Tears of joy.

@Pride

Pride watched, solemnly silent--and listened. When Mercurius had finished, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

"They will," he murmured. "We will guide them, and they will have the greatest of wise protectors in you. I will also do my best," he added, with gentle mirth.

There was the faintest shimmer--so easily missed--as the white stag's magic passed into the shimmering moonstone. He then looked to Mercurius, still awed by the moment... and thinking, too. "They... take root, in a sense--I think--and grow. We can remain here, and tend your garden--grow it once more, and raise them near my allies. Or we can return to your grove in Eridanus, if you wish, among all that live you've been cultivating there, for so long. I leave this decision to you, though--I think that they should be together," he added quietly, a thoughtful cant to his head.

I... cannot believe I have done this. That we have done this. Have we done this, really..? Or am I dreaming?

Pride's face lit brighter, abruptly, and he peered at the lion, almost seeming to smile. "What will they be like, do you think?"

@Mercurius