Temperance had followed the mouse for a while. Had watched it in its sojourn, using a space within some rocks to try and hide from him. After a while he'd become bored and simply lifted the stones up, head snapping down to catch the rodent.

Now he stared at the thing as it twitched and died, ears down and shoulders slumped with melancholy. Sure, Ember seemed to be okay just how he was, and as they turned to try and spot their sibling doing whatever, he felt just a little bit of jealousy. He had two parents and a sibling just like Temperance did and was so content and happy, unlike them.

Why couldn't he just be happy? Be normal?

Anger welled up and he felt his bitterness bubble like a pot boiling over. It wasn't fair.

He felt so alone despite people being there for him, supporting him. Like there was something missing, like there was no meaning for him.

He snarled and slapped his paws down, sending a burst of energy slamming into the ground, right on top of the mouse. His head reared back as he saw the smear of what used to be his meal and quickly shoved dirt over it before anyone could see. His tail curled beneath one of his hind legs and guilt curled around his throat like a vice, replacing his rage. He shouldn't have done that.

’Why can't I be how dad and papa want me to be?’, he thought bitterly.

Why couldn't he be like his father and the parent he'd never met? Why couldn't he have born without this fire in his chest, a fire that threatened to engulf him at the slightest of problems? Even his own brother sent him hissing to himself whenever the other did something annoying.

’Somebody please find me!!’, he begged silently, lower lip quivering.

’... Don't leave me here.’

@Pride (and Ember)

Pride picked his way along the rock, following scent and magic in an attempt to find one of his wayward children. His magic was... well, it was uncooperative today. To put it mildly. He'd reached out his magic senses to try to find the child, and wound up with a backlash, a sense like someone driving a red-hot poker between his eyes and, lower, through his gemstone.

Unpleasant.

After several moments of grimacing and panting, of waiting for the pain to pass, he'd moved on: but he couldn't see a thing, magically. Ahh, well; back to good old hunting-by-scent. His ears flicked back, pinning briefly as the last waves of fading pain subsided.

He'd spent time with Ember. That one was attentive, quiet, but there was something stubborn in him. It was almost a standoffish streak, or... resentful, maybe. He was reserved, and seemed to hold some form of grudge that Pride couldn't break past. It was nothing severe: the child was friendly and dutifully obedient and all of that. But none of the offered games or kind words elicited anything like warmth in response, and that... bothered him. Upon reflection, though, it wasn't particularly surprising; Dread was not known for his kind streak, and Fireheart had shown very little emotion. He'd had courage, selflessness, but not exactly affection.

Then there was Temperance. The kid was broody, gloomy. Sour. If he was kept active--distracted--his mood improved, but for the most part his default was dark. It was perplexing--Nassir had been a sad one, but it had been down to poor experience, and there was no heart warmer than that which had lain beneath that quiet black veneer. Neither child had had a bad experience, so far as Pride knew, so why were they both so... down? Mercy was nothing but kind, loving, supportive. Pride was supportive, too, and he hoped equally as kind, but the kids just weren't responding to it. He ran over lists of things he'd tried, and things he had yet to: storytelling, training, games. What would bring them out of their unnatural melancholies?

It was a sad thing for the white stag to have to deal with. He had enough of his own terrible memories and worries; too many came to him only for support, and never to support him. He missed Nassir's quiet acceptance, the leopard's soft words of concern and advice. He had, it seemed, been replaced by another dependant. Pride didn't resent it, but it was... tiring.

Ahh, well. He took a breath, steeling himself to the task ahead.

"Temperance?" he called out, hooves clicking along the stone. The scent was here, but not very strong; perhaps the child was somewhere close by. "Are you there?"

@Temperance

Temperance looked up as Pride called for him, staring down at the patch of wet dirt between their paws. They kicked a rock over it and stood, curling their slightly kinked tail between their legs with a breath of discomfort. It still hurt sometimes if they weren't careful.

"Yes dad?", they called out, making their way over to Pride with their head low and ears down, looking like they were about to get scolded.

They never said anything to Pride, to Mercy. Not even to Ember. They were as quiet as they were angry, silently fuming to themselves, holding it all in. More often than not they were elsewhere, up on the cliffs of Orion or curled up somewhere alone, away from everyone.

They sat down before the stag and stared at the ground rather than at their father. Like they were in trouble or something.

@Pride

Ahh, there he was. Pride veered over, and then came to an easygoing halt as the child approached, sat, curled his tail up. The stag flicked an ear, affection at seeing his child changing to confusion as he noted the body language: miserable, guilty. What had happened-?

"Ahh--what's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

There was little more to say until he had an answer; he could not plan without knowing.

@Temperance

Temperance didn't want to say anything. They'd done the bad thing so they had to suffer for it, right? That poor mouse hadn't deserved to be painted across the ground after its death had been prolonged, but they'd done it anyway and the guilt choking them was their punishment.

"Nothing," they said, more harsh than they'd intended, making them wince and look away, "Don't worry about it."

It was their own fault they'd broken their tail, their own fault they couldn't live up to his own name. They had a need that welled up in their very bones, aching to be released. There wasn't an in-between with them, either all or nothing.

"Nothing you can do about it anyway," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "But uh... what did you need?"

If Pride craned his neck even a little bit he'd probably see the badly hidden smear just behind a small boulder, evidence of his crime.

@Pride

Pride tilted his head a little, studying Temperance for a moment. His voice was gentle as he spoke. "Honesty's important between family, you know? We can't help each other if we hide things from each other. You never need to keep anything a secret from me. But... I'll also respect your boundaries. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

He gave the cub a moment to think about that (cub? well, not a fawn; he certainly took after Nassir more than himself, by far--a little ganglier, maybe...).

Then he answered the question: "I came to see if you wanted to do something. Anything, really. Learn a little magic, hear a story. Just talk." He paused, then, to wait.

His ears flicked, and he added--as an afterthought--"And by the way, you never know if someone can help until you ask." He didn't notice the miniature bloodbath behind the stone; his full attention--troubled attention, though he didn't show as much--was on his child.

@Temperance

’You have enough to deal with without hearing my stupid problems,’ they thought miserably.

"I know," they said instead, "If it were important I'd say something, but it isn't."

Temperance clenched their teeth and flexed their paws, claws digging into the dirt as they kneaded, thinking about what they wanted to do. Talk? No, not right now. Hear a story? They'd never be able to sit still, so no. That left one option.

"Magic I guess," they mumbled, not sounding as enthusiastic as they normally did about training. It seemed to be the one thing that could get the cub to come out of their shell a little bit.

"Why's my magic how it is?", they asked, scowling at the ground, "Why does it have to be so unpredictable? It's never controlled like you have it, it's always all or nothing!"

They sounded frustrated. Normally they could blast rocks all day but at the same time, hurting someone would never be their intention. What if they was dueling with Pride and accidentally hurt him? What if they pushed Ember away because he was being too pushy and hurt him too?

@Pride

"If that's what you want," Pride responded, a sort of mental shrug and agreeable enough. He wouldn't push, or peek, either, though the cub's mood concerned him.

At the outburst of complaint, though, he laughed. It was clearly not a mocking laugh: on the contrary it was reassuring, amused, self-deprecating. "Oh, no no. My magic is not controlled, Temperance. Caves, I wish it was. It fails to come, or lashes back at me, quite often. That being said, different magics work different ways." He stepped forward, curving around the cub to come up alongside him, facing the same direction: then he concentrated. "This magic often backfires for me, but let's see..."

It didn't, and a moment later a glimmer of light appeared before them. It began to take different shapes--colors--as Pride spoke. At first, it was only an inconstant, swirling ball of silver and gold potential, as-yet unformed by his will. "They're all fairly fickle, I think. Most of your stability will come with time, and practice. But when different magics fail or backfire, they have widely-varying effects." The ball of light became a tiny, glowing carpet of plants. Flowers, ferns, on a bed of grass and moss. It was only a foot or so across where it sat before them, but as Pride went on, one of the little flowers wilted and died. "If you're trying to grow plants, for example, well--that's not going to serve you as well in battle as other things will, but on the flip side, if it backfires the worst that might happen is the poor thing dies."

It shifted, then: became flame, licking in silence along the stone. "Fire can be devastating, and its use strong, fast-acting. But if that backfires-? You can burn yourself quite badly." Last it became rocks: lifting up, flinging, one engulfing in bright light, another in swirling black, and so on. "Our magic is energy itself, the fabric of the universe--mind magic, too. Maybe the essence of things, in its purity. It can be dramatically powerful, but if it backfires it can hurt us just like fire." He let the illusion drop, and turned to the cub. "When I was very young I knew a black pup, by the name of Aster. She shared our magic, too, and one of the first things she did was nearly lose her leg to a backfiring blast. I had to hunt for her, for awhile; that's why I can help teach you to hunt. You need to always be careful, when practicing, and make sure myself or Mercy are close. But it's certainly not unique to you, Temperance. It's a problem every Gembound has to go through, and really the only cure is practice. Even then, you'll still have times when the magic fails or reacts more strongly--in certain places, like near the Spire, or if you're very tired, and so forth. It's never perfect, really." As much as he tried.

"But given that the best way is practice; what is it you're having trouble with? What is it that's backfiring on you?" he asked, patiently, turning again to face the child.

@Temperance

Temperance watched the light show, their ears unfolding from their pinned position, though they still wore a scowl on their face. They immediately wished that they could just have their magic perfected now without having to go through all that effort. It was frustrating.

"I'm having trouble with everything!", they said, "Not even just my magic but it's the biggest part. I told you already it's all or nothing, no in between!"

They turned and aimed his magic at a rock, pushing outwards like they normally did, wanting to send it flying a few feet. What happened instead was the rock shattered, tiny shrapnel-like shards shooting away, some hitting the dirt and others disappearing. They bit his lip, trying to keep it from wobbling, frustrated tears welling up.

"It isn't working!", they yelled, stomping a foot, tail lashing, "I'm trying to hold it back but it just- it makes it angry!"

Even worse was that Temperance couldn't explain it properly. Their magic was 'angry'? Of course they meant it was uncontrollable and that holding it back acted more like stretching a rubber band and letting it go, but they didn't understand it enough to articulate as such.

The cub sat down on their rump, shoulders hunched, face contorted as they furiously held back tears, not wanting to seem like they were a baby in front of their father.

@Pride

To say that Pride was taken aback would be an understatement. He at once wondered where he'd gone wrong; he and Mercy had both provided nothing but kindness and support, guidance, to both children.

He was suddenly struck with strong self-doubt. And though he couldn't know it, it was wholly undeserved; the stag had been a good father. But for whatever reason, this child had developed a self-loathing and anger so deep--out of nowhere, really--that it had built a wall between them.

Pride simply stood, for a moment, baffled. There was always a little moodiness around half-adult age, but this-? He had no experience with such violent temperaments, other than those in the caves who wound up killing others. Did this cub somehow carry some... taint, like that-? Was there some hidden magic that twisted some Gembound into killing machines? I hope not, he thought fervently. Ahh--and he was broadcasting everything to Mercy. Unwanted, but there it was. Mercy, he thought toward the lion, I think we have a problem. I'll try to handle it, for now. Any advice? He didn't have to explain; he knew the lion would've seen it all.

"So practice it," Pride answered, and tried to keep the same confidence in his tone. He wasn't angry with his child--how could he be? But he was... frightened, for him. Worried. Temperance looked miserable, and he simply had no idea where all of this was coming from: the brooding moodiness, the grumpy demeanor.

Pride stepped over, offering the cub a gentle nudge. "Practice it, but don't frustrate yourself. It comes with time, Temperance; it isn't the sort of thing you can force. It does get frustrating. It will get frustrating. But it's how you handle that that matters, all right? Listen; I have noticed that you often seem unhappy. Is there a reason for that?" Communication, as he'd said, was key; maybe there was something the cub just hadn't mentioned.

@Temperance