There was a long moment where Pride was silent, where he simply stood in wonder and contentment and let the others step into the spotlight. Let them illuminate him; let him bask in their presence!

His face--gripped; and he lowered it, unresisting, gentle. A nudge, a snuffle out of hot, grass-scented air. Oh, how he loved them already-! And the new child--the third--the giggle, the eyes...

Yet it didn't click--it was a momentary thing, at first. The sort of awe that one felt for a moment, here-then-gone, the rare glimpse of true magic in a lifetime. Pride didn't truly consider it--consider the implications of it all--until Mercy's mind again brushed his own.

'Goodness. We're going to be swarmed by children.'

His eyes widened, head lifting to peer at Mercurius as the realization now, at last, struck: this was real. This was real. All of it; it was staying. This was their new reality. This was life, now, and not only a dream: this was Orion, full of children and smiles and--look at that one; laughter. Joy filled his face--flooded his mind. We will, he thought back, warmly, as this happy knowledge settled in his chest. And it's perfect.

He swivelled his head back down to the cub who'd grasped his face, who was affectionate to he and Mercy both. "I'm Pride," he said gently, aloud, and looked over all three of them at once. "And I'll be helping to take care of you." The link was gone, but his words were kind. And to the new one: a step forward, a nudge for its little head, kind. Then he folded himself down on knees and hocks, lying close beside them all.

The one--this one--had stuttered; p-sounds, unfinished, broken but intense with effort. "Perfect," he substituted softly; "You're perfect." Not a name, but a quiet observation, given to them all.

@Casimir

There came more noises, more wills imposed upon their own. P was raring to go investigate, to give in to a few natural impulses -- namely, the impulse to use these clumsy little paws of theirs for a number of tasks. All this energy entwined with the gangly limbs, stashed in a bottle, stuffed and compressed; there was little P could do to unleash it while half-buried in the mound of fuzzy warmth called... called... They needed the release, the catharsis! The air that was loosed from the balloon all at once when it was finally let go-

And just like that, another will imposed. This time, it pressed itself directly into P's mind, gentle and tender as the large fuzziness which encompassed them. In fact, if P was connecting the dots all right, this could be assumed to be that very fuzziness... the will of the fuzziness, projected into P's mind, a realm where all existed without boundary or barrier, ceaselessly... This scape, the mindscape or the dreamscape or whatever kind of scape it was, had only recently began to function in full (perhaps this was not the first time it had ever-?), and yet it already held the entirety of P's thoughts. The whole treasure trove! That included P's very name... which P might've been able to project back to the large fuzziness, completely intact, if only they could just connect... connect those...

Ah, but it arrived too late. P only had the time to absorb the words placed into their mind, which, although they had meaning, for now lacked weight. The third act had come! Yes! beloved! Well, not even quite registered as fellow lifeform yet, but oh... you'll see! Although this was only the beginning, from the moment of conception, each child was born with every future splayed before it - splooted. No fear, nor temptation. Merely paths upon which to walk, to wander, explore. They cannot wait to be seen. I, personally, cannot wait to see them- but anyways. P--

"Perfect. You're perfect." What were those words? What was it about those words that make Pe... um, P? just swell? The energy, the burst, kinetic and transferring. And from a master of the element no less! Exactly what they needed. P- paws paws paws- P attempted to let themself out, to set out for the first journey! The stag didn't know what he was in for, imposing that word upon P and then laying down, in somewhat exposing that soft round tummy of his. Oh yes, p- paws paws paws, now they couldn't be stopped! One way or another, they were going to get there, get what they supposedly needed.

If P could get free from this large fuzzy contraption, they would toddle (noisily, of course) over to the prone stag, particularly aiming for the partially visible belly. Arms and paws (paws! paws!) at the ready, P would ultimately attempt to give in to one of the first, most basic instincts of a baby mandrill: latch. Which, for P -- and perhaps more fittingly -- would be translated here into: hug!

@Casimir @Tobias ?? ? ?? ? (one of you get over here and join the armada; [Area 51 raid voice] they can't stop all of us at once!)

The snow white child's brethren-- the one that had inspired the first bout of jealousy-- was the first to speak, puttering noisily in an attempt to form a name with mouth before mind. The first born had a feeling that he could speak his name once he had decided it without so much trouble, a stubborn determination making his muzzle scrunch.

Reassurances came across the shared link, with a murmur that they could take their time. He would get it perfect, pushing himself up with his front paws and raising his head high.

Until he decided on a name, however, Puh-puh-peh was quickly making progress on this whole naming convention. Words filled his ears, inspiration clashing with an urge to be unique. Themes and sounds, consonants furiously thrust together until the poor boy started to feel a new sort of discomfort in the form of a headache.

With a crack of thunder, attention was drawn away from the two brothers to the remainder: a soft plush of subdued silvers and sparkling blue: the youngest brother stumbled on to feet and walked.

Meeting the first born's eyes, the newest addition to the family laughed. A high, playful giggle, and the eldest was lost in the wonder of it. A bright, warm, delightful sound... His father echoed it, that wonderful sound, and suddenly he was lost in the weight of it. Everyone was making sounds-- but his first words-- he needed to decide his name, before he fell behind.

Pride gave his name, adding to the small but growing collection of names-- if Ember and Temperance were names as well. They shared no common theme or connection, and so with P-P-P's sputtering, so went the babe's own mind. The growling sounds, the hissy sounds, they seemed close. But most importantly was moving away from the Puhs, the sound of the lips, and moving farther back. Unique and individual, markedly away from P-P-P and Pride and Temperance... Mm... Rr... Sah, Kah, Kuh.. Mmrrkah, Aah-suh, Kkrr... Big blue eyes crossed to stare at his own nose, completely oblivious to his sibling's antics for the short while.

This was, after all, the first big task of a wonderful mind, and even with the impending feeling of one's own stone drilling back into their skull, well-- he would figure it out, one way or another. Sahmurr... Tt, Cah.. Toor... Murr... Cah-ss-turr, Castur? No, no. It had to be perfect. This would be a commitment for the rest of... whatever, this was. The permanence of it, the first word and his whole identity, weighed heavy over each thought. Cash-murr... Cah, cah... ... but, it was only a matter of time.

@Tobias

@Mercy !

One, two, three — hmm ... He can't count all the way up to ten yet, we've established that, and numbers are never gonna be his strong suit. But with all the little gears spinning as fast as they can in his head, he can make it almost halfway there, and, with effort ... Four! Yeah! Four other faces, four other souls, acting and existing all on their own. It's sort of a miracle, isn't it? That he has company here, that he isn't alone. In fact ... ahh, one more, one more ... There it is! Five. That's what they make — him and them, together.

One of the bigger friends smiles down at him now, and this, of course, makes him smile back. He lifts up his eyes to gaze into theirs — silvery blue and somehow very wise, soft, still; they make him feel safe. This friend returns his happy little giggle with something similar, except this sound is much lower, and worn like a coat around a more precise shape. It's a shape with meaning: a word, or maybe two. "Wellhello." He's not exactly sure what it means, but from the way that it sounds, it feels very nice, like it's glowing — as do some of the many words that come next: "Welcome, little one." But there's something else, spoken with emphasis: "Here." He watches, mystified, as a sort of shuffle ensues. Then, a nod, directed down at some newly-available space beside the two smaller friends. That's when it clicks. "Come over here."

Oh. Um ... Well, he doesn't know how to feel about that idea. This friend of his is clearly very trustworthy, and something about the word warm prompts a small, rippling shiver in his slightly-damp coat. But — Oh, come on! Look around! He just got here. The last thing he wants to do is get comfortable. Energy's fizzling this way and that in his bones; it's hard enough just standing here. A torn, uncertain little noise hums in his throat, sort of an mmmnnh ... —

And the other big friend, who's been speaking, too — more of those words that glow — they step closer, and he turns his head, ears pricked, smiling anew. Now, here's the point where he's really gotta start to separate all of these friends in his mind. That first one can be The Friend With The Eyes. This one, though ... Hmm. His eyes scamper up along the first feature that catches his attention: a proud set of shapes on top of their head, taller and more convoluted than the shimmering spirals of The Friend With The Eyes. Almost like a — ... Ooh, ooh! That's it! The Friend With The Hat! And as he's working all of this out, The HatFriend leans over and gives him a nuzzle.

It's a lovely feeling. Another giggle of delight wells up in his mouth, very tiny, almost a hiccup — and fast as lightning, before The HatFriend can get all the way away, he strains up on his tippy-toes and goes to deliver a lick on the nose in return.

This leaves, at long last, his smaller brethren: The Friend With The Face, on account of their face; and The CurlyFriend, on account of their curliness. (He's really getting the hang of this naming thing!) Another fresh smile, and he opens his mouth. To do what? Well, he's not quite sure, but he's about to find out! — ... Except, here, The Friend With The Face wriggles expertly to freedom. This gives him quite a start. He lets out a squeak of surprise and stumbles sideways as they zoom past, headed straight for The HatFriend. It's a striking show of determination, both fearless and fearsome, all reckless abandon where his own first steps were so careful and focused; he's impressed. Better to ... stay out of the way. He lingers on The Friend With The Face for a moment, then turns to The CurlyFriend.

All the others have been moving, making noise, doing all sorts of things! But this one is just ... resting there, muzzle scrunched, staring at their nose as if their very life depends on it. He inches closer, glancing up at The Friend With The Eyes. (He's a little nervous about being made to settle by force, and he'd really rather that didn't happen, but he won't protest if it does.) This friend, The CurlyFriend ... are they all right? He briefly mimics their expression, then shakes it off. It doesn't feel good, screwing up his eyes like that.

Maybe they just need a little ... nudge. Like how The Friend With The Hat nudged him! But just a little different, because he has a super-secret weapon that The HatFriend does not: a soft, round paw.

He reaches out to very, very gently touch The CurlyFriend's nose. Bap! And then ...

"Fw-fw-w-wuh —" Oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy! Here it comes, folks!! "Fffff — fwiend."

Spoken with total certainty, despite the trouble his tongue just gave him. His voice is soft, sweet — sky-high, this young. The sound of it almost collapses into another giggle, but he stifles it into just a small puff, somewhere between self-conscious and self-satisfied. And his eyes? They're twinkling so bright, you can almost hear it.

He scoots back a little to make room for The CurlyFriend, just in case they'd like to come out. Finally, he raises his head and looks off through the green, as far as he can see — away from the broken shell he's left behind him, past all his friends, into the beyond ... because this has been nice, really it has, but he's ready for more.