James nodded and backed off, jumping from the roof and onto the ground. Something panged in his chest as he walked away, and his feathers drooped just a bit. He disappeared behind a building and folded himself into a tiny ball of horse and feathers, far enough away that he didn't hear the two talking anymore.

James wasn't Pride's son.

Sure, James was bright and had a lot of potential, but some days he doubted if Pride loved him like James loved Pride, or if it was one-way. He almost wanted to find a spell to try and feel if Pride did truly see him like that, but then there was the matter of if it was an invasion of privacy or not.

His heart hurt thinking about it. There were so many things he needed to ask Pride, things that a son would ask a father, but he wasn't sure if that kind of thing existed between them. Perhaps he'd ask that first after he revealed the news of his child.

But for now, he'd wait.

Exit.
@Pride

Pride hadn't ever been particularly bratty, even just as a normal kid's reaction to weariness. He was aware of it, of course, but necessity and life-or-death situations had dictated his behavior instead. It was hard to be pissy about speech when one's friend was crippled, near starvation--but that wasn't what his mind was dwelling on. He was just a little confused, a tad baffled as to how to handle this. Azizos and Arsu had always been polite, only cranky now and then, certainly never throwing a tantrum and it was the white stag's first experience with such things.

Her bark of 'No!' stunned him into silence, his head reeling back, eyes blinking. She hadn't, it seemed, registered any of his encouragement--that struck him, hurt and saddened him, just a little. He was surprised, even, that a mere child's rebellion could hit such a chord. He pushed that down, aware that she didn't quite mean it. His parenting experience didn't quite extend this far, and so as Jampa finished speaking, he tried reason instead, calm and directed.

And this time, he kept the wordiness to a minimum.

"'I'm sorry' is a good start, and your apology's accepted. I'm sorry if I'm boring you." It wasn't sarcasm, just slow and measured speech. She'd yawned, which half confirmed his suspicions, and so he nodded. "That is a no to a story, then-?" he asked, and nodded off toward the Throne. "Come." This tone brooked no argument, though it wasn't commanding--merely firm, though still kind. And Pride turned to head that way, though he glanced back to see if Jampa would follow him.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't disappointed that she didn't want the story, but as he walked he began a little light show, nonetheless. Perhaps it'd put her to sleep, or at least soothe her mood--he didn't know--but it was a gift all its own, just the same: a soft display, curtains of shimmering violet and green as if an aurora glistened in the air around them, glittering with the diamond droplets of stars. It was very clearly sky, and it seemed to form ribbons drifting, tail-like, behind a magnificent, phoenix-like bird: the Three Kings, sweeping high around them, an illusion of Pride's making. Arsu and Azizos had enjoyed watching such things--they'd often drifted to sleep to illusions or tales from Mercurius or Pride; perhaps Jampa would like them, too.

"I hear that's what the sky is like," he told her, quietly, as he led the way to a place that she might rest--a place he'd bedded down in many times, thick with soft grass, his fur and scent. "The open space outside the caves where other creatures fly." A pause, and a nod to the bed, though he kept the light show swirling up around them: "You may rest here, if you want." No demand, lest it be rebutted: merely an offer and the hiding, too, of a father's hurt feelings.

@Jampa

Owing the departure of James to her own little tantrum, she watched him back down and leap from the roof with an expression of pity upon her face; not to spare any for her new friend, but for herself. She had not meant to drive him away and presumed she had been the precursor, watching the dark shadow of his winged body flee from where it had been lingering. With a pout she turned her gaze towards the grit by her feet.

There was an uneasy silence that settled then. Something that Jampa felt acutely but could not label, having never felt this awkwardness before, at least not to the extent she could separate it from the ever-present strangeness of existing in the universe overall; she was young and everything felt too heavy, too strongly, or too much. Pride's tone shifted too, became like a bracing wind, which lured her attention back.

She followed after her father. There was nowhere else she could go, nowhere she could think of nor want to be, even in her current state. Having nearly exhausted herself in the game of chase and the attempt to fly, as well as with her untrained magics, Jampa was unsure of where she was going or why. There came a trailing aurora then, following the pair, transforming as it flowed.

There was grass here that felt cold as she pressed her toes upon it, soothing her somewhat. Pride's voice rang out with a truncated version of the tale he might have wanted to share with her: open space, flying creatures. The light rose over their heads and Jampa looked to the offered bed, creeping towards it until she sagged on bent knee, curling up beneath the dull glow of his magic.