Pride stepped quietly from the garden, leading the way out into the open air. It was night, by the cave's standards, now--misty, and dim, a faint chill to the air. It wasn't cold, but it was a little cooler than could be called "pleasant," and Pride drew himself in just a little.

He was silent for a moment, though he could hear Mercurius's ever-gentle paws padding behind him on the soft earth. His ears flicked back, and he turned to watch him, solemn and quiet. His mouth was a little tight; after the strange display with the children, he was worried. The lion's magic had seemed to backfire, somehow, and showed... something that Pride did not think was random, not by any means. And Mercurius' reaction, his terrified breaths and utter loss of composure as he'd stammered a frightened explanation, had genuinely disturbed the stag.

Once they had been standing in the quiet, for a few minutes--Pride's ears reassuring him that Arsu and Azizos yet slept--he spoke, softly. "What was that, Mercurius? ...Who was that?" He turned, his silvery eyes ghostly pale in the dark, searching Mercurius' face for an answer.

An answer that he was just a little afraid of.

@Mercurius

There was mist, and it was not Pride's doing. Mercurius shuddered slightly, grateful for the cover of the hedgerow, which took the brunt of the coolness and dew. His flank twitched as he walked, phantom attempts to warm himself up. He'd need it, if what he thought was about to happen did. Looking ahead, moonlit eyes met silver tines and a worried gaze. Mercy's steps ceased, content with the distance and lack thereof between himself and his companion. Carefully, he rocked back onto his haunches with a sigh.

"That was… a failed attempt at creating a world the twins could see. As I casted it, I thought of Clover — the deer — she was… sort of a mother figure to me. She could spin the light into beautiful scenes, beautiful colors, beautiful worlds," he murmured, careful not to get too caught up in his own bittersweet nostalgia lest he have a breakdown then and there and disturb the children with another one of his 'bouts.' "I used to not understand why she was so kind to me, why she was not like the stag king Vazi Hasira, full of pain and rage and hurt and taking it out on all others but himself." Mercurius's breath hitched slightly, and he closed his eyes. No, another strategy. Another method.

"At one time, there was just a little cub named Beast who thought there was nothing wrong with being treated as a lesser, as a slave. He thought that he did not deserve compassion and rather—feared it, because the stag's mood changed like the wind and kindness often gave way to pain." Detachment. He was no longer Beast. "And, one day, the stag brought a pale white deer who saw only sweetness in the world. She was his treasure, his beloved. Clover could not tolerate what Hasira did, yet she loved him anyways. And..." he scuffed his paws across the earth, "the darkness that had hurt Vazi, had corrupted him so, consumed Clover. Clover began to war with the darkness in her heart, in her eye. And this darkness had a name… Belladonna." As a security blanket, Mercurius carefully drew up a bit of light, staving away any and all shadows.

"Belladonna destroyed her," the pale beast was edging into tears now, more of mourning than anything else. "She hurt Beast and her true lover, Bartos — a little cat with glasses that was a slave alongside the cub." Sniffing, he said rather matter-of-factly, "Belladonna lost, in the end. She fell, and took Clover with her."

Darkness often took the moon with it, once it left.

@Pride

Pride listened, his expression studious and concerned, his ears pressed forward to catch every single word. He forgot about the cool night air, he forgot the mist, and the quiet hum of insects in the forest. Instead he was picturing Mercurius's words in his mind--and trying to imagine what they meant.

A white doe, a light-painter of stories and worlds. Kind. Mercurius, named Beast? --and slave to--a stag! Pride felt a strange surge of something that, in brief examination, he could only define as betrayal. The lion had a traumatic past with a stag, and hadn't told him..? Why? Pride felt sympathy, though--pity--seeing the pain that it so obviously put Mercy through. He himself wasn't angry, but he was a little hurt. Mercurius had kept this from him..? Or perhaps-... Perhaps he'd only been in too much pain to speak of it. One didn't like to tear open old wounds.

The mention of the darkness, though, worried him. It sounded more literal than anything--and what was Belladonna?

Another thought struck him, too--an awful one. A stag, and a white deer..? He was a white stag, and he had no idea how he'd come into existence. Could he be..? Worried, he pushed that thought away, and began to speak--only after a long, thoughtful moment of silence.

"Let me... ask questions, as I do not understand this all. You were called Beast, and a slave to a stag..? Why did you not tell me of this?" He didn't say it in a demanding tone, but rather, an earnest one. "He brought this doe, this Clover, but he was touched by what you call darkness, and it affected her too? What is a Belladonna?" He paused, nostrils flaring, thinking. "Is this darkness--literal, a magic? Or do you refer to emotions, Mercurius?"

He didn't want to outright give his suspicions, either, about his potential heritage--as slim a chance as it was. Perhaps he had been their child, and Mercurius had known all along..? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to tell him? "May I ask--what magic, what stones, the stag and doe had? And where it was that they lived? I assume--that they are both gone, now." He didn't say why he was asking--and maybe Mercurius would be too caught up in his own emotions to notice, or at least Pride hoped--but Pride's question held a distinct thread of thinly-veiled nervous tension.

@Mercurius

If only Pride could have known why Mercurius truly kept his traumas and history under tight wraps: he did not want the white stag to worry about himself. The pale deer had, of course, frightened Mercy at first, sending him into a rather frenzied panic in light of who it could have been. But, through sheer will and time, he had managed to subdue the terror deer seemed to spark in him. Perhaps, it had been the lack of familiarity, then.

When his companion asked permission, Mercy only nodded mutely, unwilling to make eye contact. "I didn't see anything wrong with being called a beast," the lion paused, scuffing a paw across the fronds of a large fern, "I had just been born and didn't know any different, any better." His head tilted slightly to the side, then down to his hovering paw. "I didn't tell you because... I was afraid of you, initially. Vazi had a son, later, who rather resembled you. Not quite as kind." A huff escaped his lips, and he managed to look up at Pride, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel like you needed to uphold this--- this sort of expectation or... to pity me." Speaking from the heart suddenly gave Mercy this epiphany, and he frowned for a moment. "It was long ago, I was young. I've had time," he rumbled, ever-soft and vague.

As for the darkness, he replied simply, "I don't know." Truly, he didn't. "Belladonna was Clover's inner demon, I think. Her deepest evils and desires, the darkness that sat in her heart."

Feeling rather weary and heavy, the pale beast slid down onto his elbows. Allowing his hind legs to spill out to the side, he mulled over what his then-tormentors had looked like, had controlled. "Vazi knew water and ice," Mercy's gaze drifted down to the stone on Pride's chest, "and had a stone on his chest, like yours. It was one piece, though, and went red when he was angry." The beast's ears flicked back; he had forgotten how much he feared --- and didn't understand --- the color red. "Clover could spin the light and her stone was one of her eyes, golden yellow at the start. But it went dark when Belladonna overtook her and changed her. We all lived in Orion."

A beat passed. "Vazi was killed by his ex-lover, a long time ago." Mercurius had quietly rejoiced the day that the stag king fell, not because of petty revenge of a sense of justice but because the poor man could finally rest easy alongside whoever he had lost. Visibly taking a breath, the pale beast finished, "and... Clover threw herself off of a cliff in the end. I --- nor anyone I know of --- haven't found her stone."

@Pride

Pride listened with that faint and focused frown. At the mention of Orion he felt a jolt spark through him. He'd been born there. What if..? What had happened to this Hasira's son?

He hesitated, troubled.

"I have no idea who shed the stone that bore me, nor who gave it life. Golden does not sound like anything like mine, and I have never been angry bar once, and I certainly wasn't watching it. I was born in Orion, though; what did this son of the stag looked like?" He looked away, thinking.

"You could have spoken of it at any time. You needn't hide anything from me and I certainly apologize at turning the conversation toward myself, but the idea that I might be related bothers me. It seems an odd coincidence, but you needn't fear me trying to hold myself to any standard. I am me. Though I do apologize that you had to go through that," he added, glancing to Mercurius again.

He didn't know what the lion had undergone. He studied him, but he couldn't imagine how a stag could ever bully a lion, even a cub. What had he done to him? Physically hurt him, or harmed him, perhaps, with magic..? Belittled him? It wouldn't do to ask; and if the stag was dead, now, then there was little reason to pry. He took a breath, wondering how to proceed. "And I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. I've met one other in the caves touched by horrid rage--I've mentioned to you, I think. I wonder if it is something more visceral, ahh--a true disease, magic or the like--than we realize. I won't press you on it further; but if you ever wish to speak of it, I am interested in listening." Not interested in hearing; it wasn't for him, and he was careful to phrase it as such. Yes, he was curious, but it wasn't a favor he was asking, it was an offer that he was making.

If Mercurius ever wanted to speak of his past trauma, Pride's ears would be open.

He hesitated, and then rather impulsively added--"But Mercurius, as for having to pity you--of course I would pity you for having gone through that. Anyone would, though more the child than who you are now. Who you are now remains the same--I think you have overcome it all, as best we can overcome anything, admirably. You are one of the kindest and most reasonable Gembound I know. No--the kindest."

@Mercurius

"Nobody gave me life, I don't think," Mercurius said, rather off-handedly, not quite answering Pride's question, "no one other than the caves, at least. I have not seen another like me and Vazi believed that I carried his friend's stone, even though he held it, himself." The pale beast looked back to Pride, meeting eyes again, "perhaps it was simply the Caves bringing life and magic to another one of its many stones." Mercy did not want his friend to trouble himself too deeply with his own origins --- hah --- and worrying about who he was descended from. Seeing as there was no link between the pale deer and the deceased, he moved on, "Kingsfoil, I believe, was white and had Clover's stone. It was a golden crown before his antlers."

Ah, and Pride had a way to unintentionally make the pale beast feel guilty. Of course, that was probably projection --- Mercy had a way of making himself feel guilty. His head dropped slightly, chin meeting the stone for a moment before lifting. "There's no way you could be related, Pride; I promise," he offered quickly, earnestly. "I'm sorry for withholding all of this and," the pale beast paused, glancing towards the opposite side of the garden, "again, for allowing it to spill out in front of the children."

Mercy wasn't entirely sure who his companion referred to, rage-filled and possibly vengeful. There were, unfortunately, multiple candidates for that description: the multitude of the Bloodberries; one of the Sinful Seven; or even just another unknown Gembound. "It seems to come without reason, at times," he mused gently.

"Thank you for your pity, but," the storyteller paused for a moment, tail flicking and gaze falling, "I was a different Gembound, then." A rather shy smile overtook his face, and he glanced up with it spanning ear-to-ear, "I try." Mercy shook away tension he had not noticed collecting in his shoulders and his tail. The tassel tip flicked carefully, showing a peculiar sense of contentment. "I only recently began to call myself Mercurius," the topic seemed to veer away from the current subject, but he'd loop around to it, "it felt right; eloquent, you know? Like a long-gone traveler from another world. I did not want to rationalize Vazi's actions and cruelty, even if he was angry. I wish I had realized sooner and tried to help him in ways better than growing pretty flowers in Orion."

Yes, that had been his entire plan for therapy: a garden to chill out in. It had not worked, apparently.

@Pride

Pride reflected on all of this.

A little humorously, gently--trying to lighten the mood--he spoke. "I have never met nor heard of this Kingsfoil, but--a golden crown, truly? How gaudy. My own, I think, is far more classy than that." He gave a joking stamp of one hoof, a teasing toss of his head, all terribly melodramatic; it was clear it was a joke, too, given that he hardly valued such things. It wasn't that he didn't value beauty--but it certainly wasn't an achievement, bar keeping oneself clean.

Then again, he'd made a golden crown for Envy, had he not? And Reign had been hatched with precisely the same sort of gem.

A little more soberly, he considered this, his head tilting. "You know, thinking of it, I have met another with the same sort of stone--a crown, and golden-hued. A cat, though--a cheetah; perhaps it is a sign of some kind, that of a potential leader or the like. Or shares a kinship with certain magics? I'd never considered that some gemstones might be aligned with certain mag--..." He trailed off apologetically, glancing at Mercurius. "Tsk, look at me; I ask you to speak, and then run your ears off with my own words. I apologize."

He reached out, long neck stretching, to offer a warmly friendly nose-nudge to Mercurius--an apology. A reassurance of friendship. A reassurance... in general.

"Mercurius," he told him more gently, "is an excellent name."

@Mercurius

"Well then," the pale beast said as seriously as he could, when he was moments away from letting out a hearty chuckle, "I suppose you're lucky to have not seen Kingsfoil and his gaudy 'ol crown." His own paw patted at the earth, Mercy's way of slapping his knee. A few rumbling laughs escaped him and he shook his head. 'He is lucky, truly. Kingsfoil was spoiled right out of the chrysalis,' he thought without much bitterness. Most princes were spoiled that way. It seemed to be the status quo.

Crowns signifying a sort of leadership? Mercy frowned at that, only in thought. Kings often wore things to denote their importance, but innate crowns? Leaders weren't just born --- they were created by others and by themselves. Otherwise, how do they find those to lead? As Pride shut himself down, the pale beast shook his head, "ah, no. I don't mind at all! It's interesting to think that... but I don't think that anyone is born with potential to be a leader. The Caves and actions within them shape that, nurture that. As for magic, I can't be too sure."

Mercurius graciously accepted the nudge of many meanings, tail flicking. "Ah, thank you. In a good way, Pride is fitting. Confidence in yourself is key." Caves knew everyone needed more of that.

@Pride

Pride tossed his head a little in a nod, looking away in thought; his gray gaze travelled over the myriad leaves shifting in the dim light. They seemed to sparkle, or dance, and to him the glittering of dewdrops seemed to be something from a slightly different world.

"Mm, I think potential is a word I chose quite precisely--potential can be ruined. And most certainly, others can develop well, lead, without any crown. I simply wonder at it--at whether gemstones and their placement hold any significance."

At Mercy's comment at his own name, he glanced at him, a little warmly. "Thank you. It is the emotion I felt on hatching, and always have; Reseda and the others insisted that it was 'sinful,' which in my opinion is frankly ridiculous. Pride is what drives us to better ourselves, to do the best we can, to never let down those that we care for. Certainly, there is a fine line to arrogance--pride that we perhaps do not deserve, gloating as being better than others--but alone, it is the opposite of shame, and that can never be a bad thing." Uncharacteristically, Pride's voice held a measure of emotion in this--it wasn't cold logic, though it was just as considered and exactingly-phrased as always. Instead, though, there was a dim passion in it, as though this topic was something he had thought on quite deeply.

He fell silent, and turned back to face Mercurius. "So; have you ever spoken to anyone else of Clover, and Belladonna? Or of this other stag?"

Pride's gaze was inquisitive as he suddenly turned the questions back toward Mercurius--but gently so. He seemed worried; perhaps he was trying to gauge whether the lion had ever been able to speak of this before, to vent to another, to work through his feelings.

Certainly, given the magnitude of the events as Mercy had presented them, it was important to do so.

@Mercurius

Potential could be ruined, but perhaps not beyond repair. All creatures, living or deceased, carried potential. It simply mattered how they used it. He, himself, had decided to use it for not a path of evil like his previous abusers, but to heal and mend with words and the plants surrounding them. But, did he still have potential to be corrupt, to be cruel? Clover hadn't seemed like she did, yet look at where she had ended. Broken, split in two. Missing and possibly to never be seen again.

"It certainly doesn't seem to be entirely random," Mercy mused, gently agreeing as he pushed away his spiralling thoughts, "there are too many Gembound with similar stones, similar placements for there not to be some element of... hm." An element of what? Chance? Fate? "Predestination, perhaps?" Perhaps there was, indeed, a little bit of potential within everyone and a little bit of some higher power. Some seemed to have their heads turned by trivial things, nowadays. By who, though?

The Gembound of the Quiet Age still weren't quite familiar with their creator, if there was --- or were --- one.

Frowning slightly at the notion of his companion's name being 'sinful,' the pale beast shook his head. "I don't know anything of sins and virtues, but pride's just another emotion the Gembound feel. It matters only if it is warranted or not and how it is used; it is the same as saying that happiness is a virtue where it could be a sin --- where you feel joy by the fall of others." Moonlit eyes danced around the garden, passively wondering if he should further fortify the grounds, string some more lights, create some more whimsical flora and fauna. Perhaps he should conjure up the Eventide once more, and try to grow a version of it within the garden; to preserve it and its memory.

Mercurius blinked, abruptly turning back to face his friend. As his stream of consciousness slugged back to the present, his head dropped slightly. "I've only spoken about them to Faelan, and that was out of necessity as well. He had been taken to the endless and bleak Void once in a fight, and I feared for the corruption it could have brought." Oh, how he prayed his beloved hadn't fallen prey to that void once again. "I don't have many friends."

@Pride