Aster listened, as she always did. Rambling was reserved for when she knew how to, of course, but she did also appreciate that Pride didn't have enough expendable energy to chatter for hours on end via magic. Listening was good, though. Listening was easy. She didn't have to use her mouth when she was listening. Aster like that.

The borzoi gave a gentle nod and-- if Pride hadn't continued --it might seem as though she'd be perfectly fine with the explanation of 'magic,' even if she'd known this already, having seen it within Pride's memories already. She turned an unblinking gaze to the deer as she settled her head down on the moss.

"Armour," the dog echoed, quietly, as though she were standing on the other side of Eridanus. "I see." It's unclear if she actually did understand, however-- but her eyes followed Pride and his armour, looking over it carefully, before drifting away.

But the deer moving on his own, towards the eyes, caught her attention once more. She wanted to speak-- to say something that she couldn't quite find the words for, but also she didn't want to interrupt him. If Pride saw something different, it might help explain what's going on with the Eyes.

So, she did what she always did.

She watched.

Aster didn't seem entirely worried or unsettled as Pride pulled away and moved across the grass to lay near her. Merely, she turned her head to follow his movements absently, like a cat watching a fly, and slowly licked her lips.

"The past," another echo, stashing this term away into her ever-expanding volcabulary. For a moment she was silent, thinking, finding words. "Un - re - lie - ah - ble," she tested, before elaborating. "Might be... very long ago. Before us. Might be before caves. Might be cycle ago, or might be while we slept. Unreliable."

She turned her thin head back to the Eyes, a long, curly tail flicking against her. "A trap," she murmured, more to herself-- though loud enough for Pride to hear. "Perhaps not just water. Perhaps thing like you and I. Must eat," the borzoi shrugged.

@Pride

Aster's suggestion earned a sharp glance from Pride, the idea she'd offered spiking a thin thread of fear through him. He looked back to the water, his brow somewhat tight, as he considered. "...It could be," he agreed, though it was almost an admission. He didn't want to think that it might be a predator, a thing lurking but looking like simple water.

That was... disturbing.

He knew this was one of Aster's favored spots, however--and knew that she'd never been harmed, here. She must know, as he did, that the water was bitterly and unnaturally cold, and so he didn't warn her away from it. Instead, he thought back to the magic, oblivious to any discomfort caused by his chitchat. "And yes... I do not know how the magic chooses which bit of the past to see. It's as you say--it could be a cycle ago or ten thousand. I do not know how to tell."

Idly, he lowered his muzzle to the ground. Pale nose and soft lips nudged at the soil there, and he focused again on his magicka, for a moment--though it might have looked as though he were seeking shoots upon which to graze. He was, instead, acting on impulse--the idea had occurred to him to combine their two topics of conversation. To combine both gemstones--like his armor--and the Eyes. A gift, perhaps, for Aster.

He concentrated, his magicka flickering up, and from the dirt before him rose a small, flat, round disc of gemstone. It was a silver-grey, opaque and shimmering, not at all unlike looking into the Eyes. It was only a few inches across--small enough to carry about--and looked something like a grey Star Sapphire, though with an uneven, water-like shimmer to the 'star.'

Without speaking, he nudged it over to Aster--a clear present for her. He then leaned back, looking out at the Eyes idly.

"You should come and meet the children," he said quietly, impulsively. "Or at least visit Mercurius and I in the garden when they're out travelling." He knew that Aster preferred quiet solitude, but he often missed her company, and wished that she was more present in his life. He'd extended this invitations often, but it didn't stop him from doing so again. "You'd find the grove very peaceful--and I'm sure that Mercy would enjoy meeting you. Perhaps you'd like to hear one of his stories, too. He's very kind."

@Aster

Aster offered a strange little hum, before she pushed herself up and began hobble-pacing idly around the Eyes, peering into them. Perhaps a little too closely, for someone who just theorized that they might be predators.

The dog, however, had done this practice before. Staring unblinkingly into the freezing water, as if trying to silently will it's secrets out into the open. "Might be way to tell," she responded absently. "Maybe someone older know. Someone with lots of experience. More than you."

There was a pause, before Aster lifted her head to stare back at Pride. was there someone who knew more magic than Pride? He was just about the only person she knew who was as interested in magic as she was-- but that was out of a very small amount of the population in the caves.

She turned and settled herself back in her spot between the pools and, despite staring directly at him, didn't seem to notice Pride's gift at first until he spoke. She looked down and gently nudged it with her nose before sniffing cautiously, then extended one lanky paw and dragged it to her chest.

Perhaps, in her mind, this is how you say thank you.

Aster was unsure if she knew how to say 'thank you.'

"The children," repeated Aster, a rare frown crossing her mouth. She didn't know many words, but there were certainly words she didn't like. Words like 'movement,' and 'travel,' and 'walk.' They reminded her of The Leg. Aster did not like to be reminded of The Leg. "Where are they?"

It was about now that, for the first time, Aster wondered if it was normal to be alone all the time. She wondered if everyone else was alone-- but Pride didn't seem to be. Pride had friends. Plural. Maybe if Aster visited, she could have friends. Plural.

Did she want friends? Aster did not know.

"What stories does Mercy tell?" She asked quietly, ears flicking. "Do the children tell stories too?"

@Pride

Pride watched Aster pace the shore of the pools, quiet. If he was concerned, he didn't say it. Instead he waited, patient, for her mind to circle back around to his question--and when she asked one in turn, he responded. "Not far from here. I think the children have come here, a few times; but the grove isn't far at all. Likely you've walked right past it without noticing. It is well-hidden among the greenery."

Pride also made no indication that he was displeased with Aster's lack of manners--or rather, niceties; he wasn't. He didn't mind. It was her way, and he knew that.

And as for the stories--well! A happy expression--a rare display, for the stag--flicked over his face. For a moment he appeared content, even warm.

"Ahh, Mercurius tells all sorts of fanciful tales. Often there's a moral question to them, and other times they're just journeys for the mind. He's taught me to tell stories, and I do it myself, now. I could create one for you, if you wanted. The children don't tell their own, yet, but they'll get there--of that I'm certain. They're both quite keen of mind. Arsu is more the dreamer, though; Azizos is--ahh, more like me, I should think. Logical, I suppose." Half of him hoped that Aster would wish for a story--but the other half perhaps subconsciously knew that listening to him talking was not her favorite pastime. And maybe it wasn't even personal--the dog was hardly a social being, not with anyone.

He hoped, at least, that she would come visit. Perhaps it would do her good.

@Aster

Aster listened, though her attention slowly drew down towards the sapphire under the thick curly fur on her legs. She nosed at it quietly, her slicked-back ears flicking. She found it was oddly cool under her muzzle, and smooth. Her mind wandered, instinctively, her ears still occasionally flicking as Pride spoke.

Her mind didn't go to any particular places, of course-- she wondered briefly about the Eyes, and what they might be. What might have burst out of the waters and into the caves. It must have been before her. Aster would have liked to believe that she'd hear or see it coming out of the water. What was it?

Was it a dog, like her? It seemed dark, but everything seemed dark in there. Was it something like Pride? It didn't seem like it. Perhaps it was-- "bird," she mumbled out loud, for absolutely no reason to Pride's ears. A bird, or something else that could fly out would make sense. What else could fly? Bats? A very big bat?

Her mind circled back to magic, and the illusions Pride had set up. They didn't seem dark. What was the point in them, if they were a thing? Did Pride-- oh. Right. Pride. She was talking to Pride. When her gaze rose back to the white deer she saw that he was...

.... something.

It was certainly confusing. But still, she listened. As she always did. "Stories," she parroted quietly, thoughtfully, gazing out to Eridanus. She liked to think that she'd notice if Pride and his family were living in walking-distance. But if it were well-hidden, perhaps not. Aster didn't explore often. Perhaps she should. "What kind of moral question? Mind-journey?" The dog asked distantly.

Aster considered Pride's invitation for a few moments, however. Create a story. Story meant words. Aster wasn't very good with them, but she did like to listen. To learn. Perhaps a story would help her learn more words, perhaps reciting it would help her use them better. Then she could make friends. Plural.

"How long does it take, to make story?" She asked, settling her head on the moss next to her legs, watching the deer with wide, unblinking eyes. "I'd like to see. Visit. Meet the children," she added, more as an afterthought. And she would-- Pride was nice. Therefore, his children and Mercy would be nice, too.

At least, Aster was pretty sure that's how things worked.

@Pride

Pride's ears pushed toward Aster at her mention of "bird," but when she gave absolutely no context for her sudden speech, he didn't push. He waited, but she changed topic entirely. He glanced around half-heartedly for a bird she might have seen before turning his attention, somewhat bewildered, back to her. He listened, for a moment.

"Yes-... ahh. Allow me to give a quite simple example of each." Pride thought, for a moment, determined to truly make this brief. "A moral question, for example--let us say that you discovered that the caves were going to... come to an end, somehow, in a cycle's time. Fire, or collapse--it doesn't matter--but you knew, however unlikely it is, you knew that it was unstoppable. Now, imagine there's a great many Gembound in the caves--many quite happy in their lives, oblivious of their impending deaths, but others fighting with one another or the like. The moral question in this story is, would you tell them they are going to die, and let them prepare, and make amends with those they've been arguing with? Or do you keep it to yourself, hide it from them, but let them enjoy a cycle of bliss?"

It was a story he'd wanted to tell--in a more fleshed-out form, and more fully--but the bare-bones skeleton would do, for now. "And as for a journey... Tales of fantastic, imaginary places. A--an upside-down cave, filled with green water that flows upward. Or a vast, white cave full of strange black orbs, all made of stone, that whisper kindness when you touch them. Or an ancient ruin built from... hmm, from mats of old plant growth, so that it's all grown together, rough and scratching, and in it live four-headed mice. Things that do not exist, do you see? Things, places, situations that stretch the imagination, that take your mind to wondrous places."

The stag tilted his head thoughtfully at her other question. "I do not know--I suppose it varies by storyteller. Some, I craft over weeks of thought, picking up and then discarding ideas, reorganizing them. Others I come up with on the spot, and simply take joy in the flow of the moment." At Aster's agreement to visit, Pride practically leapt with joy. ...Practically. Really, it was just a tensing, and his eyes near lit up. "Ahh, I am so very glad! When would you like to go?"

Luckily for Aster, she was right; he couldn't read minds--well, he could, but he wasn't currently--but if he had been, he'd have told her that yes, Mercy was just about the nicest Gembound he'd ever met.

The stag waited, but eventually he realized that--somehow--the dog was apparently asleep. Or deep in her magic. He stepped over and nudged at her, once, but she did not respond; with a soft snort of friendly amusement he turned and left her to her rest.

He'd be back later, anyway.

edited/exiting due to inactivity
@Aster