Brief resentment flared in him--that sort of self-destructive pride he'd felt so often when prodded by the likes of Reseda--and for a flash of an instant, he wanted to lash out, to snag Dread in his magic and break his bones against a tree.

But he had not enough magic for that; the dragon had done nothing to deserve it, either, and... well, if he failed...

It was, all in all--Pride wisely decided--a poor impulse. A very bad idea.

Teeth gritted, and he looked down at the mud again, eating his humble pie and focusing.

There was a soft squelch, and the mud parted as another gemstone thrust up from beneath. Again it was gold-sheened, this time large and smooth-faceted. Pride looked up and felt an intense surge of relief upon seeing the satisfaction, the greed, in Dread's eyes; the dragon's gaze was locked upon this newest prize. He pulled this one, too, beneath his body--in the other foot--and looked at Pride.

"This one is a good one," Dread informed him, no tone in his voice. "I can only carry two. You will give me the rest in your cave."

Pride knew what that meant: Dread would return these stones to his own hoard in Monoceros, and then come to Orion for more. "Of course," he offered, with an incline of his head--all politeness on top, but seething anger again flared through him.

He pushed it down. It was not real pride. It wasn't healthy, or good. It was nothing but impotent rage born of fear, and he couldn't let that control him. "Thank you for your help, and your patience," he added, trying for humor--and when the dragon gave him nothing but a disinterested glance, he had to fight off that anger once more.

Pride was already half-forgotten. The gemstones were gripped firmly in his claws.

The Hive was defeated, at least enough for his benefactor to be satisfied, and that was all that Dread cared for. None of the others--the Children of Rot, the deer Astraea--none of them--interested him. He cared only for these shiny stones, now clutched in his talons, and for returning home to check on the security of the rest of his hoard.

The dragon was never very confident with his treasures left unguarded.

He broke into a shuffling run, stumbling briefly in the mud, his vast wings spreading and catching the misty air. They beat--twice, three times, four--as he ran, before at last lifting him off the ground. He crashed upward through a few thinner tree branches and then he was airborne, shoving off through the canopy and out of sight beyond.

He was not relishing the long, trudging wing-walk through Tunnel H, but he was looking forward to adding these gemstones, at least, to his pile once he got home.

The rest of his payment would, as he'd assured Pride, be collected later.

exit Dread

M for f-bombs again lol

Pride stared as the dragon winged away, lifting above the trees and into the darkness.

Silence was all he left in his wake; the quiet left after the thump of wingbeats had wholly receded. The mist churned and coiled back into the space Dread had cleared, settling back over the muddy, uncovered chrysalis, now sunken half into the mud, but holding.

Sudden exhaustion--mental as much as physical--gripped him.

Since Pride had been a fawn, he had taken care of himself and everyone he had met. Reseda had tried to manipulate him. Envy had been a fucking wreck, their entire life, and Pride had done nothing but shore them up, support them, constantly offering advice and reassurance, and putting up with all their various, infuriating issues. Patience had been difficult to maintain. And then there had been the Bloodberries; war and death on every side, judgment cast on him by his own damn allies. The decisions on what to do, what not to do--these had always lay on him. He had given up his own health, assumed a mantle of severe illness, again and again to help one of his allies.

He had always stood strong, in the face of it: done what was right, protected those close to him, even those not, and had never faltered.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, in the wake of the cruel battle and the departure of the savage dragon, watching the chrysalis quietly lying there, Pride felt himself crumbling.

He was, abruptly, on his hocks and knees in the mud, head low, breath quivering in his throat as sobs threatened to choke him. He fought it--half-bewildered, wondering where this had suddenly come from; half-exhausted, so worn down by everything that he found himself simply succumbing to it.

He had not rested enough--not even with Mercurius, not with the children; he had always thought of protecting, defending them, providing his own support to the sensitive lion. As for himself-? He had never considered it, but apparently--as he was abruptly learning--he needed a fucking rest.

The stag lowered himself fully to lie in the mud, antlers clicking down softly and then resting against the chrysoprase cocoon. His breaths--barely-controlled--came shuddering and breaking, his ears sagging down.

Some part of him with vague remaining self-awareness felt wryly glad that the Bonebound and the rest were not here to see this. And another part was distantly puzzled; what had prompted this-? But there was no one thing.

It was everything; it was nothing. It was standing up, never standing down, it was war, after war; it was death and illness and a sinking chrysalis; it was magical exhaustion, and a dragon staring down at him-...

The stag closed his eyes and rested there, chest-deep in the mud, struggling to control his too-rapid, ragged breaths.

Pride had asked for Nassir to come along - and the black panther'd said something along the lines of "I'll be there in a moment!" preoccupied with making sure something disastrous didn't happen to Reign. They'd dispatched the creature fleeing from the Hive's burning ruins, and he figured that he might be able to get a moment's respite from interaction, society, all of this chaos while the pale stag worked with Dread to unearth whoever'd fallen in.

The massive shadow cutting through the mist and fading was an indicator that the dragon'd fled the scene with his prizes, and Nassir took a final glance across the landscape - bidding his companion farewell, for now. His paws carried him through the muck, still shuddering at the sensation of mud sucking at his limbs with each step. How the Children of Rot stood living here was beyond him.

He came up to the shore again, down to his chest in the swamp. Ghost-white eyes peering towards Pride, his ears flickered back. Hauling out of the water (not even taking the time to shake himself off,) Nassir slunk forwards. Each step was slow, measured, but not so deliberately quiet to seem like he was stalking. More to just make a careful approach, jaw working but failing to form any words. There was his leader, guide, mentor - stag-of-many-honorifics collapsed against a filthy blue chrysalis, just barely keeping his breaths in.

That feeling - chest too tight for the lungs - was achingly familiar, and the dark beast settled where he was, not too far off from Pride but close enough to be heard murmuring. His voice was quiet, soft (hopefully) reassuring: "do you want to talk or - just listen? I can talk about... m-meaningless stuff, if it'll... help. Nod if you want to or - just... shake your head for neither, I guess."

@Pride

His own ragged breaths, so loud in his ears as he fought to even them out, must have deafened him, because he did not hear Nassir's approach. But then, the cat was a cat; stealthy (and was that racist? perhaps) even in the mud-

Pride's head came up, eyes wide and blinking, caught unaware at the sound of Nassir's voice. He tensed, and felt that mask slipping back on; frightened, somehow, of being caught out like this. It wasn't... right. And it wasn't right to lay it on Nassir, either; the leopard, caves knew, had problems of his own.

But perhaps... it would do the leopard good, to help him. It was a little manipulative, perhaps, perhaps selfish or selfless--he didn't know, and he wasn't exactly in any condition to work out all the moral aspects right now--but Pride knew that if he let his guard back down, talked to Nassir, perhaps it might bolster his confidence too--to know he had been useful. More than useful.

It wasn't arrogance or aloof superiority that made him think this way; it was, in a sense, kindness, a grim sort. Had it been someone else, he perhaps would have slipped that shield back up, dismissed the offer with a simple excuse of being magically exhausted--but caves knew he could use someone to talk to, though he still wasn't sure what about. And Nassir-... They all needed somewhere to belong. Some purpose to serve. Didn't they-? So, arrogant perhaps, to assume the role of offering the leopard a role of his own, but it was Pride's thought process, nonetheless.

All of this flashed through his mind--more emotion than real coherent consideration--in a few seconds; he had tensed, staring up, and now he relaxed, lowering his antlers back down to rest against the stone, his shoulders again loosening.

His voice came thick--even to him, and it surprised him--with emotion, guarded as it may have been. "I-... would not mind speaking," he managed, quiet; "but I am not sure what to... what I need to... speak about."

He paused, taking another breath, a waver in his voice as he continued. "I did not expect this. I... don't know what prompted it." A shaking breath, and his head raised a little, eyes searching the swamp absently. "Exhaustion, perhaps..."

Pride turned wearily to look back at Nassir, tiredness etched through every line in his face. He made no move to raise himself from the mud, lying chest-deep and slicked near-black. "And you-? How are you holding up?" he asked, quietly.

@Nassir

Nassir was no professional at reading minds - both physically and magically - but he picked up on the tensing, an barrier put up involuntarily in defense. The leopard was prepared to just sit in the tediously tense silence, waiting for either of them to just relent or escape. But, Pride quietly relaxed, settling against the stone like he couldn't even hold himself up, and spoke quietly.

He didn't know, and somehow... that ignited something in Nassir. Motes of concern and worry flitted further into his expression, and he tried his damndest to shuffle forwards in the slop without standing proper. "Y-you could start with whatever... comes to mind?" He stopped shuffling, settling into his spot and starting to somewhat regret lying down. "What's first? Going through right now?"

"Everyone has to rest at some point," the dark beast murmured quietly, looking to Pride with earnest, "you... n-need to rest. Not j-just sleep, but..." Pale eyes went sidelong, voice faltering at stone-barked trees.

As for him? "I'm doing okay - could be... better," he assured, and turned back to silence with an imploring quirk of the brow, but otherwise awkward posture.

@Pride

Any thoughts of morality, right, wrong, and purpose had already faded from the stag's mind--it had been fleeting, as it was--and now he was trying to get his head on straight. To actually look at the situation logically--but he is right, isn't he? When is the last time that I rested--truly rested?

Pride could not remember.

He gave a quiet, humorless laugh, looking again to the leopard--still making no motion to pull himself from the mud. Rest now was as good a time as any.

"We have neither of us done much resting, have we-? I was sick, aiding Amazon. And then Livius left us. Both of us. And Raheerah-... And then Nemean, with her demands. The insect swarms. This battle." He sighed. "Is this normal-? I do not know. We have no one to look to, to tell us what to expect. We are all, I think, making it up as we go along. And I imagine you and I are both trying our best to keep things..." Pride trailed off, watching Nassir without really seeing him as he searched for a word. Orderly? No, that wasn't right. He'd never particularly tried to install order in the caves. Good, then? No, 'keep things good' sounds ridiculous.

The stag sighed and shook his head. "To make things as good as they can be. I suppose Zothra running off and leaving us in the lurch did not help, either." He should not have trusted her; she must have been a child, still, at least in mind. "Resting" for cycles. Not reporting back. Shirking her duties. Hrmph.

Some part of his mind went immediately to planning--to figuring out how to strengthen the Seven, to build them up, to take the weight and pressure off of him. And he stopped that part immediately, condemning it for foolishness. It would only put more responsibility and work on his shoulders, and Nassir was right; he would have to rest, first.

But what was 'rest?'

Pride looked to Nassir. "I hardly know how to 'rest,' I think. You are right, of course--but how, when each time I do, I see things so terribly wrong? I took refuge in Mercurius' garden, and they were chased from Eridanus by Astraea." He shook his head. "Every place I would go, or any thing I would do, to find peace only shows, in stark relief, what is so terribly wrong with our world." He paused, watching Nassir even now. "It is the only reason I have kept this concept of the Seven alive. I fear what might happen if there were none left to stand up for what is right."

Memories of his confrontation with Rift briefly surfaced--doubts. Of him lifting the cat up into the air with a snarl. He'd doubted himself, then; but then Rift had failed to even bring forth the promised trial. His actions had proven Pride's... concerns. No justice had been done. If Pride had been in control, the trial would have happened within days, and he knew it.

Reseda's bones still decorated Orion's Thrones. Gruesome, perhaps: but the stag got results. And were the caves not safer without her?

His thoughts ran in this circle, and he blinked, and looked to Nassir with wry humor. "If only I knew a way to simply stop thinking, for awhile." A pause, then, as he studied the black leopard. He wished to ask what it was that troubled the cat, but he didn't know how to phrase it. To ask "what is bothering you" implied that Nassir had nothing important enough to trouble him--and Pride didn't want to sound that way, nor did he believe it. In truth he didn't know what responsibilities Nassir might consider his own. He didn't, he realized, know Nassir well enough to know what he did when away from the Seven, or what he valued. He knew the cat had had a rough time of it, and was struggling to train himself, some. But beyond that-?

"What is it, specifically, that wears on you?" he asked, his phrasing careful, his emphasis on the 'you.' Perhaps he could help--and it escaped him that taking on some of Nassir's burden was rather antithesis to the concept of "rest."

@Nassir

Neither of us - Nassir balked mentally, immediately turning to a chalkboard in his consciousness - searching it for the massive quantities of tally marks against his own. There was no contest as he selfishly(?) looked over all of the accomplishments he knew of through the stag. The dark beast paled in comparison. All he'd done was patrol and conjure up meager supplies of magicka; though his mind guiltily supplied at least you've done something upon glancing at the swamp. Fought a creature not even half his size and stalked a smaller one. He may have been support, at best. Not close to any of the heavy-lifters of that war.

Almost thoughtfully, the leopard paged through what few memories he had of before all of this. Not one of the Gembound sitting here had a clue of how life was supposed to be, but Nassir remembered... "it was quieter when I was younger. I - think it was quieter then, anyways. Maybe I was j-just obliv -" Perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say. "There wasn't as much happening when I was young, but..."

By the Caves, quit fumbling!

"There weren't dragons and dancing lights and insects crawling out of our noses." Other things could have been happening beneath the surface of it all, but life was... simpler. Not quite so much a roulette wheel of survival as today oftentimes was. Nassir exhaled quietly, a puff passing through inky-black lips at the force of it. "But, we hardly knew anything. At least - we can..." (a slight vocal shrug) "learn more, now. See more. Not as much is hidden out of sight and it's safer to improvise."

With the shock of Pride actually not being so divinely knowledgeable, Nassir found it tragically ironic that... well, the stag had no clue how to rest, how to let the world pass him by for even a moment. Perhaps he'd never had time to learn; or, rather, allowed himself that time. Ghost-white eyes moved just a tick further beneath his brow, a frown setting his jaw. The dark beast worked it a few times, and finally offered, "but the Kingdom being chased away wasn't y-your fault. You had no part in that - none of us could have helped it." At least, that was the assumption, from what little he knew of the circumstances.

He bit his tongue abruptly, backpedaling mentally (I don't want to tell him some things are just beyond his control.) "M-maybe have some, some faith in others?" Nassir offered quickly, with a lilt towards the end. His head swung towards the greater expanse of Cetus, "I'd never seen so many of us together, fighting." It was disorganized chaos, yet - "fighting for what's right, like you want."

Pride could rest easy with that knowledge - Nassir hoped.

Apparently physically desperate to stop lying in the mud, the black panther dislodged himself - the swamp hosting a solid indent of his body for just a few moments - and plodded forwards. He hauled himself into the shallows, limbs sore with the sheer amount of muck caked onto them. As he settled down on a patch of solid ground, he made a piss-poor attempt at humor: "we could find a way to knock you out?" For good (safe) measure, he smirked.

But, again, Pride pressed the point onto him, a genuine - at least as he read it - gesture of concern extended his way in response. Nassir's ears pricked back, and he looked away almost bashfully, "all of this mud, for one." That was first and foremost. "But, aside from that it's... it's strange to feel... so okay. To just be fine - I... fell off of a cliff and hibernated for a while. My chrysalis formed on some - poison? - and it leaked in. Oliver and Tenzin'd helped me but -" a shudder rippled down his mud-slicked flank, as if remembering the icy sensation of water, "I'm still getting used to being able to focus on something other than making a mess of myself. At least I've... been able to actually talk and try to live up to being a guardian in the Seven. It's -"

The leopard abruptly looked at Pride, gaze level and earnest, maybe even tear-filled with his personal gratitude, "thank you for what you've done. Not just for me but - everyone e-else. You deserve to be able to take a break and I'll... do my damn hardest to help you find a way to. It's the, the least I can do."

@Pride

Dragons and dancing lights and insects crawling out of our noses. Pride offered a soft snort of amusement at this, but otherwise simply listened. Safer to improvise? Nassir was older than he was, certainly; but Pride doubted whether it had been less safe to improvise in a time of quiet. He said nothing, though, still listening to the black leopard speak, watching him fumble earnestly through his words, propelled solely by purity of heart.

You had no part in that - none of us could have helped it.

Here the white stag shook his head. "No, of course not; I do not blame myself for that, nor anyone else. But it highlights how difficult it is to find peace, or rest. In aiming for it I too often find nothing but more conflict awaiting us."

The stag glanced back toward the rest of the swamp. "Oh, it is not that I have no faith in our allies, do not get me wrong. I certainly believe that some of them, at least, have their hearts in the right place." Aure seemed every bit as earnest as Nassir; and Dragon, if not kind, at least held survival in high regard. The survival of all of them, from what Pride could tell. "But I do not think any of them go out of their way to change things." They stuck to their own caves, their focus their families; but then, how was Pride much different? Dragon had at least arranged meetings of them all, in the past, but Pride-? Was training his few allies worth anything, in the end? They had come here--they had helped with this, certainly. So perhaps.

He found his head swimming again, trying to balance the good they'd done with the actions of the others in the caves, trying to weigh it up: was it worth it? What had they accomplished, really..? But Nassir was speaking again, and he looked to the leopard, blinking. "Knock me--no, I don't think that will be necessary," he answered, amused.

Nassir's confessions were grim, at first--Pride knew some of it, but even so it was heart-wrenching to hear it laid out so plainly. Pity flickered in him, but uncomfortable surprise quickly replaced it at the black leopard's thanks. "For-? I have--I have done nothing to be thanked for," he blurted, genuinely taken aback. What is he thanking me for-? Inviting him to stay in Orion? Training? "You are a friend," he added, simply, still confused.

The stag's priorities were, needless to say, just a little screwed up. One moment, apparently, he could condemn a goose to death, and half-kill those who defended her; and the next, he could genuinely not grasp why anyone would possibly thank him for offering safe haven and personal training.

Ahh, well.

"In any case, I think you quite deserve to feel 'fine,' and I hope that you can come to terms with it. I suppose I can understand how foreign it might feel." Pride wasn't sure if he'd ever felt that way, himself--either he was so cold that everything felt a constant "even," or everything was so constantly terrible that he'd never reached normalcy. Given his time, peaceful and content, with his family, it was likely the former; the stag simply took war in stride. Until, apparently, it became too much.

Pride looked away, thinking for a moment--lost in what looked like philosophical contemplation--before looking to Nassir once more. "But tell me something, Nassir. If you were able to shape this cave however you desired--in a cycle, a year, a decade; where would you wish to see it? What would your... ultimate vision for the caves, shall we say, look like?"

@Nassir

At least Pride didn't blame himself for what happened to the Kingdom of Eridanus - nor did he have a lack of faith in the other groups across the Caves. Nassir's shoulders sank nonethless, for he couldn't argue against the logic: yes, they weren't quite so proactive about quality of life for the caves as a whole. Aside from the Seven, the majority of these groups were small, tight-knit families. For supposedly being a kingdom, there was a lack of hierarchy (not that Nassir... had any sort of experience in patriarchal and feudal heirarchy) in Eridanus. Had been, he reminded himself quietly.

But - ! Hm. Pale eyes furrowed in thought, gaze distractedly roaming through Cetus again. They settled back on Pride, just in time for Nassir to offer, "maybe... the Seven could - arrange more meetings. You've said that Dragon did once, once, and... it went well? The leaders could meet and... d-discuss what's happening, what to work on." Exactly what a meeting was, by definition. Ah, well. Hopefully the earnest made up for describing the known.

He added, quieter, "help give them a direction to go..." Maybe, pointed towards a problem in the caves, they could all work together - ? Like this. They'd been called to action by Astraea. Pride could call them to action, too. It seemed, in collaboration, these gatherings of Gembound were mighty.

"Even if I'm a f-friend," Nassir swallowed, still yet trying to settle in a comfortable position that wouldn't plaster his paws to his chest, "I can thank you for how you've helped me. It's the least I can do." Even as Pride assured him that he should be able to feel fine, the dark beast dipped his head, a quieter "thank you" murmured.

"What would your... ultimate vision for the caves, shall we say, look like?"

It was now idealism time, it seemed. For a moment, Nassir was going to restrain himself - try to stick to what was realistic and feasible in a cycle, year, or even a decade. He wasn't used to optimism, free reign. His posture shifted minutely, growing more comfortable (at last!) as he worked his jaw in consideration.

Finally: "I don't think I'd change much - just... take away the hurt. The destruction. Of us and everything else. Maybe just... have peace all through the caves, but not... forced. Life would be boring and meaningless with that kind of silence." Abruptly realizing that might not make so much sense, Nassir verbally backspaced. "I'd just make the caves and everything inside kinder... good - by whatever definition that is."

Pale eyes fixed on Pride - "and what, Pride, is your ideal society?"

@Pride