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12-16-2013, 11:15 AM
Mauja Frosthjärta
[ Don't worry! Mine wasn't all that spectacular either. <3 ]
He wasn't sure what kind of greeting he was expecting. Recognition? A smile? Anger? Mauja would've deserved wrath; he'd abandoned them, after all, but.. if anything, Voodoo seemed startled, as if not quite sure what he was seeing. Ghosts, maybe. Painted glow-silver and with the white blaze down his face maybe he seemed a bit ethereal, otherworldly, changed somehow. Oh, he could imagine it, alright. Tales of the icy unicorn king, who, with his horn and bright face parted the veils of night and stepped through time and space, appearing to freeze your heart over before..abducting you, or something. Mauja had a hard time seeing himself as the good guy of a fairytale, and it wasn't only because he knew what he'd done, and been through, but because.. there was, if he was going to be honest, something sinister about white creatures. Especially when they had pale blue eyes and marble hearts, statues carved from glacier ice and with hearts to match—it just made for good stories of irresistible beauty, but so cold and cruel. His siren song wasn't one of glory and redemption, it was of razor crystals and a long, frigid sleep.
So maybe Voodoo being startled wasn't all that weird, but the rest of the tale was unlikely to be something sinister, at least not with the way Mauja had nearly spaced out for a moment. "Mauja." Yet it seemed more like a question, and his eyes grew sharper as his mind snapped out of its brief reverie. "Why," he began to say, then changed his mind, night-brown eyes coming up (was he hesitating?) before continuing: "What brings you here?" By now, the pale stallion's 'brows had drawn together slightly. It wasn't a stark display of emotion, more like the wrinkling of fine, dark lines while his heart breathed quiet, heavy worry. He'd beat Voodoo up a bit once, but not because he'd been angry, or something—was there a reason for this.. anxiety? Or whatever else it was. Mauja wasn't sure he could accurately diagnose any emotion anymore. "My four feet," he replied, voice too grave for such a light statement, but something in his eyes lit up.
Irma wheeled across the starry sky before disappearing into the blackness again.
"And you? What brings you out here?" It smelled a lot of home, the home Voodoo had never known, but the scent brought bitterness and grief to Mauja's mind—things he tried to shove aside, to banish from his life. They were weakness, a blight upon his soul, and the reason he had not risen above. They weighed him down, but how do you break out of a rut you're so deep in? He exhaled, slowly, breath-smoke rising in front of his face as his eyes remained on Voodoo. Maybe he'd reply that his feet brought him there, too, but if something was on the younger stallion's mind.. maybe he'd let it out. Maybe, just maybe.
But it wouldn't surprise Mauja if he'd lost his rights to that trust—if he'd ever had it to begin with.
He wasn't sure what kind of greeting he was expecting. Recognition? A smile? Anger? Mauja would've deserved wrath; he'd abandoned them, after all, but.. if anything, Voodoo seemed startled, as if not quite sure what he was seeing. Ghosts, maybe. Painted glow-silver and with the white blaze down his face maybe he seemed a bit ethereal, otherworldly, changed somehow. Oh, he could imagine it, alright. Tales of the icy unicorn king, who, with his horn and bright face parted the veils of night and stepped through time and space, appearing to freeze your heart over before..abducting you, or something. Mauja had a hard time seeing himself as the good guy of a fairytale, and it wasn't only because he knew what he'd done, and been through, but because.. there was, if he was going to be honest, something sinister about white creatures. Especially when they had pale blue eyes and marble hearts, statues carved from glacier ice and with hearts to match—it just made for good stories of irresistible beauty, but so cold and cruel. His siren song wasn't one of glory and redemption, it was of razor crystals and a long, frigid sleep.
So maybe Voodoo being startled wasn't all that weird, but the rest of the tale was unlikely to be something sinister, at least not with the way Mauja had nearly spaced out for a moment. "Mauja." Yet it seemed more like a question, and his eyes grew sharper as his mind snapped out of its brief reverie. "Why," he began to say, then changed his mind, night-brown eyes coming up (was he hesitating?) before continuing: "What brings you here?" By now, the pale stallion's 'brows had drawn together slightly. It wasn't a stark display of emotion, more like the wrinkling of fine, dark lines while his heart breathed quiet, heavy worry. He'd beat Voodoo up a bit once, but not because he'd been angry, or something—was there a reason for this.. anxiety? Or whatever else it was. Mauja wasn't sure he could accurately diagnose any emotion anymore. "My four feet," he replied, voice too grave for such a light statement, but something in his eyes lit up.
Irma wheeled across the starry sky before disappearing into the blackness again.
"And you? What brings you out here?" It smelled a lot of home, the home Voodoo had never known, but the scent brought bitterness and grief to Mauja's mind—things he tried to shove aside, to banish from his life. They were weakness, a blight upon his soul, and the reason he had not risen above. They weighed him down, but how do you break out of a rut you're so deep in? He exhaled, slowly, breath-smoke rising in front of his face as his eyes remained on Voodoo. Maybe he'd reply that his feet brought him there, too, but if something was on the younger stallion's mind.. maybe he'd let it out. Maybe, just maybe.
But it wouldn't surprise Mauja if he'd lost his rights to that trust—if he'd ever had it to begin with.
No, we're not ready for hell, hell no, for hell, hell no
