"Yes, very good," Mercurius chimed in response to the fawn-cub that had shuffled closer, large nose sniffing at the curled, young fern. His moonlit gaze shifted over to Arsu as he, too, came closer to sniff at the plants. Nodding encouragingly, the pale lion watched as the children each seemingly took their places. Azizos --- rather hilariously and adorably --- had shambled backwards and squared off to cast his magic. In unison, his twin had simply lowered his head further and examined the fiddleheads some more before growing some of his own. A few paces away, still, the Morning Star looked petulant and disappointed.

The pale beast carefully got to his feet, giving an encouraging lick to the top of the more successful, plant-bound fawn-cub as he drifted toward Azizos with his head low. Voice ever-soft and gentle, he murmured, "it's okay, Azizos. Try and try until you've made magic." Mercurius gently lifted the side of his paw to the fawn-cub's chin, lifting the babe's head up. "Come, try again. Make magic," he rumbled and smiled warmly.

The petulant child in question whined softly, somewhere between a pitiful mewl and a grunt. As much as he enjoyed his maned father's encouragement and gentle tone, he still frowned. Already, Arsu was so much better at magic than him! Right away, his twin had emerged first and now had the first bit of magic going for him!

Oh, oh! Azizos's tail flailed a little bit, and he stamped his hooves in realization. Maybe this was a competition! To see who would be the best at magic in the world, and he could only get better if he practiced and tried his hardest. Now, he hadn't quite gathered this from either father's words, but their tones. The fawn-cub realized that he'd just have to learn how to bend magic to his will.

Still unsure why, he shuffled back a few teetering steps and squared off again. His silvery-pale gaze disappeared behind screwed-shut eyes and furrowed brow. Throwing magicka out once more, he felt a literal poomf! in the general vicinity. The grasses around him danced in the little wave of force he had generated, sending an overwhelming sensation of excitement trembling up his limbs. With a gasping squeal, Azizos whirled around to each family member, calling out "good magic!" to each one before managing to trip over his own legs and flopping back onto his side.

@Pride

Pride listened, ears flicking forward some at Mercurius' words.

"Be careful, my friend," he warned, though his tone was gentle. "We don't want to push them, or make them feel inadequate." But scarcely were the words out of his mouth when plants were blooming with Arsu's touch, and the grasses rocking back with the power of the little Azizos' blast.

Pride blinked, and felt happiness rush through him. Pride, even. Oh, but Azizos had his magic! That was delightful!

"Ahh, well done, both of you. Azizos, you have my magic, I see. Moving things with your mind alone." Pride wasn't really aware that magic had strict categories--some spells came to him more easily than others, but that was all. He lumped a blast of power in the same general idea as moving things around with the mind--for what was the former, but moving air with one's mind?

He attempted to pick up Azizos gently--just a couple of inches off the ground--and then set him back down.

Instead, his magic wholly backfired. It flipped the child straight into the air, and Pride was instantly horrified--how was it so fast?! He bolted up and forward with a speed he hadn't known that he possessed, hooves flinging away dirt and foliage as he moved to ensure that his back was under Azizos. NO! A firm snarl of his mind wrestled his magic violently back into control, and he gently caught Azizos, delicately setting him back into the grass.

His heart raced, the panic of any parent on a dangerous near-miss gripping him. He flashed a grimly-controlled (he did not want to frighten the children), guilt-ridden glance to Mercurius, and looked down, grappling with his fear in order to present a calm face.

"Like that! Fun, yes?"

He hoped beyond hope that the little one would squeal with joy, not scream with terror, and his heart raced as he waited to find out.

Arsu practically glowed. This was all just so wondrous! The praise from Mercurius, and his father's rasping tongue between his ears, left him warm with contentment--and the plants and their mysteries now beckoned to him.

He was oblivious to Pride's near-tragic mishap with Azizos, at first--instead he tottered nearly out of the little grove, so rapt with the plants was he. It would be easy, were Mercurius distracted by the almost-disaster, for his parents to quickly lose track of him. In a blink he'd tottered from Mercy's side to almost entirely out of the grove.

Children, it seemed, would be very hard to keep track of--especially these boisterous twins. But if his parents did somehow lose track, they'd find him still there--his butt sticking out of a hedge while the front of him leaned down, focused with fascination on trying to grow more plants. "Magic," he murmured.

The sprouts tickled his nostrils, and the slow-motion dance of the flowers around him brought him into another world--their world--quietly peaceful and slowly, gently magical. It was probably good that he didn't see what was going on behind him.

@Mercurius

The children casted well and efficiently in what seemed to be a controlled manner. Mercurius laughed softly, gently dismissing Pride's warning: "yes, but if they give up after their first attempt, they will get nowhere — now or then." It was a basic tenet of learning to harness and honing one's magic, of course! Perhaps one that would have to be introduced to the children if they succumb to disappointment without encouragement. Self-encouragement skills were among the greatest tools for surviving these desolate and bleak Caves. Mercy should know.

The pale lion shifted over to Azizos, gently grooming at the top of the child's head in warm encouragement and purring. Mercurius's pride was unspoken, but affirming. Both of the fawn-cubs would grow to be great magic-users, he presumed. It still provided no light to where the little ones' paths would lead and diverge and intersect; that was, of course, just fine. Stories weren't exactly meant to be the most predictable, much less life itself.

Most unpredictably, Azizos suddenly shot into the air of his own volition with a shrill bleat of pure terror. "Pride—!" Mercurius whispered hurriedly, worriedly, losing his calm composure immediately and trotting as fast as his worn old legs could carry him. Realizing, painfully, that he was too slow, he began to cast a spell on the plants around them, preparing their strength to catch Azizos if Pride did not and he couldn't. By the time he made it over to the child, Pride had already caught the fawn-cub with more magic and set him down. The pale lion sighed in relief, sagging visibly as he let go of his magic, spell uncast. At the pale deer's kicked-puppy look, Mercy whispered softly, "perhaps moving them with your mind isn't the best idea, for now."

Azizos had been minding his own business, gently twisting on his back so that he could scratch it — what a wonderful thing that was! — when he was abruptly carried into the air by some unknown force. With a shriek, the poor babe twisted and stared down at the quickly shrinking ground. His eyes widened as his fathers became white blotches against the endless green and his brother seemingly vanished from view. A mournful bleat escaped him as he spun higher and higher into the air, ever faster. Then, he began to fall; his shrieking started up again.

But, then, he didn't fall. The Morning Star opened his eyes, seeing his antlered father gently setting him down. As soon as Azizos's quivering hooves met the earth again, the fawn-cub stood righteously and bounced about and shouted, "bad! Bad magic!" He wasn't crying out at Pride, though, but the bushes surrounding the grove. The little one trusted and adored his father far too much to even think of the pale deer as the one who had thrown him so high up into the air. Instead, it must be some other Gembound that they couldn't see that wanted to hurt them and make them disappear.

Speaking of… the fawn-cub whirled around, brows furrowed in clear worry. "Arsu? Brother?!" Dancing on his limbs anxiously, he stared towards Mercy and Pride. "Arsu?!" He couldn't see him! Did the Gembound that threw Azizos also throw his twin? Was Arsu gone forever? Completely facing the opposite way from the white butt sticking out of the hedges, the Morning Star began to whine softly, pouting and near-tears for the third time since emerging about thirty minutes ago.

@Pride

Pride still looked stricken as he answered Mercurius. "It was meant to be--a little, gentle toss-... No, I'm not doing that again." The unspoken 'what could have been's were still chilling him to the bone.

He hurried to offer Azizos reassuring nudges, but at the little one's calls for his brother, Pride's head shot up and he looked around. At first, he didn't see Arsu, and further fear gripped him. He felt faintly dizzy, and his head whipped this way and that, antlers slashing the air, as he searched for a sign of the other twin.

Oh-... there. A white tail and little staglike hind legs were jutting from a bush. Pride spoke up, peering.

"Behind you, Azizos, look. --Arsu, what have you found? Stay close, mind." His voice was gentle, lilting, but held that undeniable parental authority to it--advice, warning. ...Why was he in a bush.

The child pulled back, turning to peer--blinking--at his parents, and at his brother. Bad magic..? What had he missed?

A single leaf sat atop his head.

Arsu toddled back, peering up at Pride, and then to his brother. Over to Azizos he stepped, head low and ears tipped forward, giving the twin his full attention.

"Azizos," he said, pronouncing it carefully. "Bad magic? Where?" Then he looked around, worriedly. He looked back to Pride. "I stay close," he agreed, hushed.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but his brother's tone had frightened him.

@Mercurius

"Good," Mercurius murmured softly, bowing his head and offering his companion's chest a gentle bump, "don't worry about it, Pride. Azizos doesn't blame you at all." It seemed the fawn-cub didn't, anyways. As soon as all four limbs were on the ground, the child had begun to cry of bad magic and whirl around to 'face' it. The pale lion watched as Pride nudged the Morning Star, offering unspoken reassurances. A smile bloomed on his face, but it was swiftly stifled by the realization that none of them could see the other twin — Arsu had been forgotten in the momentary panic and had managed to disappear.

The lion was about to ask the plants where the child had gone when Pride gently nudged the younger twin in the right direction. Oh, the little one had ventured into the hedgerow. Thank goodness the children were so starkly-colored against their surroundings. Even if they seemed to already have a penchant for vanishing, at least they were easy to spot at a moment's notice. With a gentle smile, Mercurius looked to the pale deer once again, "it seems Arsu's turning out to be very curious." And adorable, of course. The leaf atop the baby's head was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

At the fawn-cub's palpable worry, the pale lion shook his head slowly, "ah, the bad magic is gone, now." He spared a gently warning glance towards Pride. Offering kind reassurance to the twins in the form of a rough lick, Mercy tilted his head and rumbled, "what did you see in the bushes, Arsu?"

Azizos grew more cagey as his fathers revealed that they, too, didn't know where his brother had gone. The antlered of the two had whirled about, head swinging this way and that; the maned one had begun to gaze carefully at the edge of the grove. The Morning Star sank to his haunches, a plaintive whine preparing to slip from his throat and tears threatening to fall. But, a reassuring few nudges came and he could see Arsu again. With a bleat of pure delight ("Arsu!"), Azizos bounded to his twin and touched noses briefly.

Tail flailing about behind him, the Morning Star flicked his ears back. "Bad magic pick me up! Take me high up! I fall! But Father—" he tossed his head towards Pride with an excited stomp of his hooves, "—catch me and put me down." If it wasn't clear that the child didn't blame his antlered father for his momentary jaunt into the air, it most certainly was now. Azizos, of course, had no qualms about the new house rule of staying close. Who knew when the bad magic could strike again!

To make a point against the unseen, fake force, the fawn-cub shifted so that he would hopefully be side-to-side with Arsu and making contact. If they were touching, the bad magic would just have to take them both.

@Pride