A deep, cool answer, fitting for a mare with her girth, and a tail responded to him. The voice he was not surprised at, for how could any creature with so deep a chest possess the lilting voice of a slender female? The second... The black hairs, some knotted and some free, slapped against his chest and forearms, dark against his white coat. The touch sent a tingle through him, though something exasperated, terrified and frustrated entered his mind: not another! he wanted to groan and hide his face against the wall. If this was another seductive mare to watch him with hungry, sultry eyes... small touches to send his skin tingling... by everything cold and unholy, he'd geld himself! Perhaps then, if they had nothing to gain from tormenting him, they'd leave him be. After all, he had no desire for their bodies, not because they were .. ugly .. but merely because he had enough bad experience of it now. Psyche, Snö, Tamlin, Lotus - it was all tangled up to the point where he didn't want another mare looking at him again, ever, as they were the root of all his problems.

She backed around a little in the cool corridor, to get a better look at him he guessed - slightly wary now he held back where he was, eyes quickly scanning her from the front. A stub, no, a broken piece of horn jutted from her forehead, a slow, chilled drop of blood discernible against the ivory. A slight frown creased his face; what had happened to it? And why did she nearly recoil from him when she saw him properly? Was he that ugly, really? With an easy grace he placed his hooves better on the slippery floor, and cocked one hip, seemingly at ease while his mind spun. If she recoiled, maybe she'd lay off the flickering tail-tease act. Meanwhile Irma finished off her meal, as if oblivious to the large mare and her near presence - or how easily she could reach out and attempt to crush her fragile bones. Large, blue eyes turned to silently command Mauja, and with an absentminded look on his face he put his hind hoof down flat again and unlocked his knees. Silently he padded forth on the floor, lowering his head for the fledgling bird to leap up to his poll. From there, she walked down to his shoulder with her peculiar owl's gait, and began to preen.

"No," he responded, simply. "You're in the Wilds, though my scattered band resides out here.. for now." Frowning slightly, he peered into the darkness deeper down the corridor. Had she been going somewhere, or merely exploring? Now that he no longer blocked the entrance, standing more in front of her, the sunlight reached down, sparkling in the many planes of the ice. And in her eyes, too; different colored eyes...like Ophelia's. "It's Mauja. And yours?" Again, his gaze wandered to her forehead, to the stub. It must've been painful. Was it recent, if it still bled? Did it bother her, like a constant ache? "What happened to it? Does it hurt?" he asked all of a sudden, waving the icy tip of his own horn in the direction of her forehead. Being a unicorn, he often utilized his horn for things like that - pointing, greeting, digging in the frozen loam... whatever he needed to do that could be done with it. And why shouldn't he? It wasn't a sacred thing someone had glued onto his forehead; it was a tool, and useful not only for killing things...though that seemed to be its most common purpose.