Pride watched, content and even a little--well, proud, as the two quickly caught on and then, just as quickly, returned to their play.

Like Mercurius, he was enamored with them. He glanced up, dipping his head in agreement.

"I believe so. I will need to let Envy know that they've hatched. I know that they gave life to that one shortly after we did ours." He leaned down, nuzzling at Azizos as the little cub-fawn barreled past. Stumbled. Got back up.

...Adorable.

Taken by a sudden bout of gentle playfulness, the stag turned, his bouncing, floating trot carrying him carefully past both cubs and around. He did a slow lap of the garden, inviting them to chase, but infinitely careful--should they stumble, he would ensure that he didn't step on them.

"What magic do you think they know? Perhaps you can--show them what it is? Most of mine is-... ahh, geared toward combat."

He knew nothing flashy, really, nothing gentle and fascinating. He could create gemstones, but he doubted rocks would interest these little ones. And he could move things with his mind, but the last thing he wanted was to backfire that, and drop them.

He chased Azizos for a time, and already he was stronger--but already, he was out of breath. When Pride when dancing past, he gave chase, stumbling and bounding and bleat-mewing along.

"Father!" he babbled loudly. He then shifted direction yet again, no longer racing, but prancing a little toward Azizos. "Azizos brother! Arsu! Hello!"

He then dipped and bounded away again, his long legs offering him a rocking gait, his lion's tail flailing behind him. He stumbled and fell as he turned, tumbling over and over in the leaves and moss, then picked himself back up. Like any child he looked upset--bewildered--as if deciding whether to cry. But then he spotted Mercurius again, and simply laid back down, watching him raptly--for whatever reason--silently, his fall apparently forgotten. "Father!" he repeated. Then he glanced back toward Azizos, to see where he had gone.

@Mercurius

The little ones were quick learners, already growing steadier on their own feet and bounding around the lush garden. Mercurius smiled softly at their antics, smitten now and forever. Moonlit eyes drifted back toward Pride, and he rumbled, "I hope that their child is as healthy and full of life as these two seem to be." Each time one of the fawn-cubs would spring by, the pale lion would raise a paw — claws sheathed, of course — and bat at the little one's shoulder in a playful manner. Unlike Pride, Mercy couldn't quite adopt a lofty gait or trot in any manner without irritating his sore old bones. This was the best he could do, given the circumstances. Judging by Azizos's squeals of delight each time he was hit, it was good enough.

On the consideration of magic, the pale lion hummed in thought. Would it make sense for the children to have magic the same as their stone? Or for their magic to match that of their life-giver? Mercurius looked from one mewl-bleating child to another. Azizos carried his own stone, given life by Pride. Arsu was the opposite: diamond spiraled from his crown and he had been given life by the lion. "I think," he began, at length, "that Azizos may have your magic. It would make sense for them to have their life-giver's magic. It is, after, all, what spurs their growth." Mercurius mused upon his own words for a moment, before nodding and gently stepping toward the heart of the garden.

What magic shall he present? He figured he should decide before he called the children to attention, given the current shortness of their attention span. It would have to be something connected to him, easily recognizable as coming from him and not the natural magics of the Caves. Mercurius contemplated mustering a glow from his own pelt, but figured that it would be futile. Light was not his home element. Learning the deeper workings of nature came far more naturally to him, rather than those of light or the past. Arsu, at least, could be introduced to plant-based magics.

So, he would begin with something simple: plants growing upon his own mane. Mercy woof!ed softly, but deeply, hoping to deter the bouncing beans' attention long enough for him to cast magic and present it to them. The pale lion nodded quietly toward Pride, murmuring, "could you do the… mind-speaking thing, again? So, that they may have concepts for what I'm about to say?" Mercurius allowed a beat to pass before he lowered his head to eye-level with the children, rumbling softly, "Azizos, Arsu — there is magic all around us and within us. We are full of magic and bound to it." As he spoke, he reached down into his stone, focusing on his mane and hoping to beckon forth a collection of plants and growth. "There is magic of fire and magic of the earth. I wield the magic of plants and of light. Your other father," he tossed his head toward Pride, "wields magic of force and of the mind."

Of course, no concepts or words were enough compared to demonstrating the real thing. Of course, his magic failed him.

Azizos, indeed, squealed each time his father's heavy paw whapped against his side, more out of a vibrant eagerness than any surprised or fearful response. He made his rounds a few more time, bobbing at the garden's edge while chasing Pride, before whirling around towards Arsu's call for him. As soon as his momentum was disturbed, the Morning Star realized that he, too, was out of breath and ready for a nap. And, oddly enough, had a strange rumbling feeling between his front and back legs. That feeling was unfamiliar and not quite clear, but could easily be ignored for now for the sake of trundling over to his twin.

"Arsu brother!" Azizos mewled in kind, bobbing his head as he trotted closer, "hello!" With a little stumble, he wound up in a loafing sort of position, limbs tucked delicately beneath himself and his tail wagging side to side. Rocking back and forth as he made himself comfortable, he licked his twin's neck and nipped at him playfully. Since there was no magic happening, the fawn-cub paid very little mind to his father, turning to face him only at the tail end of his words. Then, he stared in confusion, not quite retaining the words without concepts. Instead, he latched onto the sounds, crooning to Arsu in wonder, "magic! Maaaaaaagic!"

@Pride

Pride did his best to connect to the two, to sort of translate what it was that Mercurius was saying to them. He watched the lion, too, contentedly. He knew that magic might not always work--hell, his own might fail, here. But they had time. They could try again.

After Mercurius's message, he spoke further--still passing along the mental messages to match. "If you watch, he will try to do magic for you." He tried to make it sound wondrous.

He found that it was hard to keep the link open--he was struggling, despite it being simple and one-way--and so he let it slip shut, instead pacing over to give his full attention to Mercurius--to lead by example, in a sense.

Arsu, too, was squealing joyfully at the play, at Mercurius's swats and at Azizos' leaps. At length he stopped, sides heaving--he, too, was hungry, and thirsty too, so it seemed. But he gave his attention, dutifully, to Mercurius--his parents thus far had been kind and supportive, and so he was already turning out to be a good son. Their gentle respect had set a perfect example, and he stood, watching the white lion with rapt interest.

But he was a newly-hatched, with the attention span to match. When Mercurius's words, when Pride's message and the magic had faded, he found that something else had drawn his mind.

There was a scent--sweet, tangy--something close by. Something low down. His head dropped to the blades of grass torn and bent by the frolicking of he and his brother, and he gave them a tentative nip. Bite, pluck, chew, swallow; and he considered.

...Yes! This was good!

Quickly his mind shifted again, and he looked around for Azizos before bounding with two hops to his brother's side. He jostled him, flank-to-flank, and then dropped his head again to indicate the grass.

"Good!" he crowed--and then, still eating--as if munching popcorn at a show--he turned his gaze to Mercurius.

@Mercurius

If, at first, you don't succeed, try and try again. Mercurius didn't feel so much as a blip of magic from his stone, but he was persistent. Already, the eldest fawn-cub's attention had drifted to the grasses surrounding them, nibbling eagerly and showing his brother the wonder of food. The pale lion smiled and nodded towards Pride, murmuring a soft "thank you" before focusing back in on his magic. Even just a little indication of it, even just a little idea for the fawn-cubs would be fantastic. He woofed again, now staring down at his own paw.

With a flourish, Mercy lifted it, revealing the bare earth beneath his cracked and worn pads. "Now, watch." Setting his paw flat on the earth, he closed his eyes for dramatic flair and beckoned forth the seeds and life that the dirt already harbored. Feeling something push against his foot, the pale beast lifted it and revealed a delicate fiddlehead, still yet curled and new; not unlike unborn Gembound, he noted. "There is magic deep within you, somewhere, little ones. You must call to it and focus on it if you want to use it," Mercurius rumbled softly and warmly, tilting his head toward either child.

He rocked back onto his haunches first, then down to his elbows, his paws carefully enveloping the fiddlehead but allowing closer looks, if the twins wanted to take them.

The Morning Star jumped abruptly, rolling to his side as he was jostled by his own brother. Rather dramatically, he squealed and stuck his legs out as far as they could go, hopefully tripping Arsu with all the innocence in the world. It was all fun and games, really! Regardless, Azizos shuffled back to his feet and stepped over to the 'good' stuff his twin had pointed him to. Imitating his biting motion, he tore off quite a large mouthful of grass and chewed it very loudly and openly --- much like a dog eating peanut butter. "Good!" he agreed politely once he had swallowed.

Snatching another bite to eat, the fawn-cub shambled back to his bother's side and watched raptly at his father's woofing sound and call to attention. Concepts of magic flooded his mind, and of the stone he could now feel embedded into his forehead. "Ohhhh, magic!" Side-eyeing his brother, Azizos shoved up to his feet and wandered closer to his father and his display. Blinking in astonishment at the emerging fiddlehead, the fawn-cub bounced in place. At a loss for words, he squealed simply: "good!"

Prancing back a few steps, eager to possibly show off his own merits and magic, Azizos focused on the sensation his other father had sent his way. The fawn-cub squared off, bracing himself against something on steady limbs. A buzz rose up, though he felt it alone, and he threw it out with his mind. But, unfortunately, nothing came. Not even a little poomf!

Despondent, the child pouted and stared down at his hooves, most certainly contemplating crying.

@Pride

Pride watched, contentedly; he even curled up to lie in the mosses nearby. Mercurius was always so warm, like this--his gentleness quite clear. He was so engaged with the children that Pride doubted he was noticing much else; it was quite pleasant, all in all, like some kindly dream into which the stag had wandered. After a life with maneuvering and suspicion playing no small role, it was a relief. The children, too-... They were adorable. He held high hopes.

Ahh, but Mercurius had forgotten something important, in his lesson. Pride was paying attention, not merely musing on poetic thoughts.

"Don't worry if it does not work right away. It often doesn't, even for those of us experienced in it. Magic is a beautiful thing--wondrous, and powerful--but fickle."

He did his best to implant the meaning of these words using his thoughts--but wryly, he noted that he wouldn't be surprised if it failed. It certainly looked like Azizos was struggling, a little, but that was to be expected.

Arsu peered, wide-eyed, the grass in his mouth forgotten as Mercurius worked his (quite literal) magic. Some of the grass, he then swallowed--and some fell away, the blades tumbling to the ground as Arsu moved away from them. He crept closer to his father--the lion one--and peered down with fascination at the emerging ferns.

Quiet, almost reverent, he lowered his head--sniffing here and there near them, barely touching even with his breath. He then focused, for a moment, his moonshimmer eyes fixed upon the sprouts. One by one, a few more ferns began to push forth from the soil between the white lion's paws, unfurling a little into vibrant green curls that bobbed a little at the fawn-cub's breath.

"Magic," he murmured softly, an echo of Mercurius's word, and then backed up just as slowly. He didn't seem proud, or exuberant, anymore--simply in awe of this, of what had happened. He turned to look wide-eyed at his brother, and at Pride.

"Magic," he repeated quietly.

@Mercurius