Envy listened with more than a little dejection as, even in this, Pride one-upped them. Stronger even when it came to the awful process of taking lives... even though he was never meant for it, and Envy was.

And soon, Pride was speaking of Mercurius again, asking the weasel if they'd consider going to see him. Envy's stomach tightened in a brief thrill of revulsion. They didn't answer until it had died down, trying to think as Pride would, but unable to get past the thought, the feeling, that Mercurius was Pride's favourite. They were sure that meeting him would only make them feel worse. And even if that weren't the case... Envy wouldn't be able to open up. No-one could see this. It was bad enough showing Pride this side of them.

"I can't," they said finally. "No-one else can see this."

There was a pause as Pride thought, and then continued. Questioning, asking. Envy felt their quills raise slightly, and they looked up for a second before hastily looking away. They thought, their ind reeling. How could they answer that? Because it wasn't them. They would avoid fighting if they could. But there was an anchor that always drew them. They remembered seeing the hybrid rearing and tearing, the white deer's pristine hide stained with red and reeking blood. The fear yet reluctant compliance as things went south before the fight with the goose. Always it was something else tugging them along.

It was always, always...

"It was... you, Pride."

Envy's quills prickled with embarrassment. They realized after mere moments that their words were the wrong ones and their quills rattled, skin burning. "I mean, not... not like that. I just... He was attacking you. I had to... I couldn't let what happened to me..."

The weasel trailed off, heart hammering.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

He was about to protest--to ask why no one else could see. Mercurius was, after all, trustworthy and kind; he would never pass on whatever Envy shared with him.

His thoughts were knocked rather harshly aside, however, when Envy explained why they'd come to the battle. It had never been for the Bloodberries--nor for the caves. It had been for him; it had been for Pride. Guilt immediately wracked him. He'd never even considered the possibility. He'd assumed that Envy, like he, had been intent on wiping a greater evil from the cave; for protecting the population at large. The idea that they'd come solely for a friend, solely for him, and were suffering so terribly as a result-... Well, that struck him, in a way few things had thus far.

"I--had no idea that it was for me alone," he admitted, surprised, his tone a little saddened. "I had thought it was for the caves, for others--I did not know you'd put yourself in danger for only me, Envy. I'm sorry. And you don't have to do that." His voice grew more grim as he spoke.

What else could Envy have done, though? He'd charged in head-first, and he'd called for help. But then--he'd thought Envy had been on the same page all along. They'd always expressed the same desire to take down the Bloodberries--they'd always agreed that they were violent, and dangerous, and had to be eliminated. Hell, Envy had suffered by them just as much, by their own admission here--so why would it not be at least a little selfish? Pride was baffled by this, but he didn't think that it was a falsehood, not by any means. In a sense, he supposed, Envy wanting to prevent harm to Pride wasn't all that different from wanting to protect the caves. It was more personal... and a little more selfish, he supposed, while at the same time being nearly wholly selfless. How did one morally define wishing to put oneself in danger to protect a friend--but not to protect strangers?

The stag considered, for a long moment, and then sighed, pushing the thought away.

"I thought we shared a goal, in that, or I'd never have asked you to put yourself in danger. I am grateful--but I am also sorry."

The pain, the guilt, the grief and the trauma that the weasel was experiencing--it wasn't a neutral, necessary thing. It was because of him.

For once, Pride just wasn't sure how to cope.

@Livius

As soon as the words were out of their mouth, and even more so as Pride began to answer them, Envy regretted them.

They detected that note of sadness-- of... disappointment, perhaps, in Pride's voice. And they felt themselves shrinking, hanging their head and curling their sinewy body up against the ground. "Well, I--... I... it was a little bit for the caves. A big bit, actually," they lied through gritted teeth. "I mean, I... built my kingdom. That wasn't all for you."

That was the truth, at least... but their real reason for building the Kingdom was one that they weren't willing to admit, not anymore. It was all to do with validation, as Pride probably suspected, but also power.

The weasel felt embarrassment tightening in their chest, prickling over their fur. And for the first time in cycles, they felt bitterness rise, resisting and countering their sorrow with a rush of adrenaline. They wanted, suddenly, to snap at Pride, in all of his aloof emotionless. Of all the things he could pick out, was he really disappointed in them for this? Because they rushed to his aid? Because being a hero secretly sucked? Because of all the people they'd met throughout their cycles, the only one they truly trusted, the only one that they'd trust with their life, and not only that, their deepest and darkest side, was Pride?

"Is it really a bad thing?" they finally asked, reining in their temper for a moment, although their voice still came out a shrill cry. "I thought you would be happy."

After all, it could all have been solely for themselves, their image as a king.

...Well...

...It was.

But at least there was one thing that mattered just as much.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

The shrill note, the near-defiance, in Envy's voice caught Pride quite by surprise--and, as he turned to peer down at them, he came to a realization.

He had no idea how Envy's mind worked--and more than that, Envy clearly had no idea how his worked. He'd have to be patient, then, and explain. Pushing down the grief and guilt that lingered, he spoke calmly and quietly, taking a moment to piece the words together before actually speaking them.

"Happy? Why would I be happy that I led you into pain? I am grateful," he repeated, with emphasis--fully aware he'd just said this a moment ago, but feeling that it apparently bore saying twice. "But no, I am sad, and I feel a guilt that I did not bear a few moments ago, because I did not realize that I was half-dragging you into something you would not have otherwise chosen to be a part of. Does that explain it more clearly?" This last was said slowly, patiently--not in a condescending manner, but carefully, so as to be difficult to misinterpret. He wanted his feelings clear for Envy to look at and to understand, because the always-volatile weasel was in a very bad place, and a single misunderstanding might well snowball into something terribly worse. This Pride understood, instinctively.

And then, thoughtfully, he went on. "Is it a bad thing that you chose to help me? Absolutely not. What is a bad thing is that I pulled you into it without a thought as to your feelings on the subject, without awareness of the repercussions on you. That is my fault, and for that, I apologize." He felt the resurgence of this fresh guilt, his ears loosely dropping back toward his neck. But he was focused, now, more on Envy than on himself--watching them closely, hoping they understood what he was trying to say, that he had been clear enough.

@Livius

Envy faltered at Pride's words, feeling like a fish out of water. They weren't used to speaking like this, or being spoken to like this, and it showed. Pride's gratitude hardly mattered, at this point. They shook their quills with an embarrassed huff, skin burning. Envy didn't know what to think. They wanted to talk back, to protest, like an irritable child, but they instead bit their tongue and nodded at the ground. "Y... Yeah," they said, after a moment's hesitation.

They looked up as Pride continued, listening, expression to his words with an expression of exhaustion. He was apologising now, for dragging them into things without thought. Finally, they said, in a small and wavering voice, "it's okay."

Part of them wanted to say that they would have gone anyway. That, they knew, would look better. Less weak. But they knew deep down that it wasn't true; not that that mattered, they were used to lying through gritted teeth. But on the other hand... hearing Pride's apology, hearing him say that he was feeling something, well... that felt good.

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride listened, and then sat quietly for a long moment, ruminating. As he did so, the combination of past adrenaline, of weariness from his exertion, and simple tiredness from a long day began to drag on him. It hit him harder, perhaps, because he was laying in a quiet, dark place with a feel of safety about it: his instincts urged him to sleep now, while he could. While it was safe to do so.

He yawned, and then offered Envy another brief nudge.

"I hope it is over, and that we must--neither of us--ever face this sort of thing again. Now-... I am finding myself weary from it all. If it would drive you off, I will find another place, but otherwise I may lay my head down now and rest, for awhile--if you do not mind?"

He eyed the weasel, wondering if they were as tired as he was--emotionally, probably far moreso, at least.

@Livius

Envy looked up slightly as Pride spoke again, their quills trembling slightly, then flattening. They were surprised, a little, by his words... but they knew they were just as exhausted, even if they wouldn't sleep. The only thing keeping them awake was the self-inflicted adrenaline rush, a product of their own excess emotion.

Embarrassment still bubbled in the pit of their gut, from what they'd said.

They weren't about to admit that out loud, though.

"Yeah... good idea," they said with a quiet nod, avoiding the stag's gaze. They didn't lay their head down, though, not yet. "I'll be here."

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride looked at Envy.

The weasel was ever troubled, and he didn't doubt for a moment that they'd lay awake--perhaps for hours--fretting and second-guessing and doubting.

...Yet another nudge, and he spoke. "Envy-... At times when everything has felt quite grim and bleak--when it all seemed to change around me. I found that after a rest, it was surprisingly easier to handle. Perhaps if you sleep, too, you will find it easier to cope with it all come morning. I do not think either of us should be trying to think things through, in this state, anyway."

A moment of focus, and then--slowly starbursting into being--came a series of long and gentle ribbons of light. they were the auroras, once more--as the Kings had shown them both--and Pride set the light playing over the rock around and above them both. It wouldn't be visible from outside the alcove--but for them, it was something like a lullaby for the eyes, a languid lulling of pleasing colors.

"Rest, Envy," Pride urged, though his own lids threatened to slip shut over his eyes.

@Livius

Envy let out a small huff, unwilling to admit that Pride was right, and that they knew they'd lie awake. Their plan had been, as far as they were concerned, to wait until Pride was asleep, and then simply disappear, as though they were never there. Perhaps in his warmth they could spend a while thinking, perhaps it might be easier, even. But they felt embarrassed, as though they'd said things they shouldn't have.

Envy was distracted from their thoughts, however, by the lights that Pride summoned, sent dancing across the world around them both. Envy watched them, stared, unable to tear their gaze away. And they felt... odd. Strange. They felt like they ought to feel jealous of such beautiful magic, and the way that Pride created it so effortlessly... but they also felt... a sliver of gladness. A sliver of warmth. As aloof as Pride could be, as much as they hated expressing their feelings for him. This was for them, from him. And that helped.

The weasel, despite themselves, snuggled just a little bit closer into the stag's chest, watching the lights slowly moving.

They tried to fight it, at first, but eventually they felt their eyelids beginning to droop, as well. They found themselves speaking softly, the words, "alright," left their lips.

And some time later, they had drifted off into sleep, a restless sleep in which they twitched and dreamed, but a sleep nontheless.

-exit Envy-

Speech. Thought.

@Pride

Pride was satisfied enough at that simple acknowledgement. There was relief in knowing that Envy would sleep--rather than lying awake for who knew how long, torturing themselves.

He lowered his head to lay it down, along his forelimbs, half-over the weasel--and his eyes at last slipped shut. The lights continued to dance for a time before, once Pride drifted into sleep, fading away.

His own breathing grew even and quiet, his mind dropping into a deep and dreamless rest. Once day drew near, dreams would come--and, perhaps, some nightmares. But for now, at least, nothing was left but blissful, unaware rest.

exit Pride