blame it on hell's fires, and on my desires

He snorted; a dry, bemused sound. There was no way he couldn't, in the company of this wondrous, forgiving, strange creature. It almost shamed him of his darkness, of the things which lurked in shadows—things he would not admit to, things he would forever swallow when they threatened to tumble out. If she was everything pure, everything noble and beautiful and the things which made the world good, then he was the opposite, the secretive, skulking darkness. The poison in the veins. That which bit, sometimes purposefully, sometimes on accident. The cold, dark heart which refused to let go of some things. Some things that it did not want to forgive.

Would Kahlua ever be capable of his vindictiveness?

Some things he tried to forget. Some he clung to. Some, for redemption, some, for vengeance.

"I wasn't being very good at finishing it anyway," he replied in a voice that was oddly light, matched by the pale of his gaze. This little jaunt had been a welcome, though terrifying, distraction; it had been somewhat of a step in the right direction, part of his conflict yet one he was strangely united about. Torasin.. Torasin was his regret. For a moment, the sorrow flickered in his eyes before it faded. Some things.. death with a smile.. it had brought something else. It had, in a sense, brought him Kahlua. A chance for some kind of peace, though without it.. would he have needed to seek it?

His gaze flickered back to her. He had stolen enough moments of her day. The world needed its personal piece of sunshine back. Mauja lowered his head, white lashes falling down to his cheeks for a moment. "Thank you," he said, sincere—somber in the way he was so good at, all graceful and regal and somehow, almost warm. "I look forward to my return as well." His head came up, eyes cracked open; a slight, mischievous grin curled one side of his mouth upwards. A perfect mask to hide the fact that he still did not look forward to the idea of being roasted to death. "Sort of," he added as an afterthought, as she made to leave. For her, he smiled, and then, when her eyes no longer graced him, it faded. There was a heaviness in his chest, a hollow ringing in his mind: should he feel relieved, at having thrown the first rock to set off the landslide, or troubled, by what consequences he might bring down upon himself? He was no friend of the Edge, no friend of Mirage, but a friend of life: of his own life. Would this.. would this be enough?

Did he let them fight his fight out of convenience, or because they wanted to? Because at least Kahlua had decided to champion him? There were too many things to consider, too many things to be afraid of, and not enough truth. He shook his head to himself. Perhaps it was just to save himself, but he withdrew, back into the cold, hard shell, into the land of callous indifference, into the dank, gray fog. He wanted, desperately, to be free of the burden he carried, free to roam Helovia without fearing to be abducted to Mirage for a trial: and in a way, it had been a relief to speak of it.. to finally tell someone the truth...

It was hard to know who he was, when all he had ever been was ambitious, adaptable, noble, he guessed, but in the eyes of the world, it all came out wrong. As it is with everything.

Sighing, Mauja turned to leave the Edge behind, and Irma came down from the skies to settle on his withers.

Some things never changed, at least.

[ I hope you don't mind that I ended it here :3 Let me know otherwise! ]