en natt så kall och månen den var klar

Oh, if he'd only known her thoughts, known of the distrust planted in her mind by those who had taken his home in the name of equality, and if he'd only known the fear Kahlua had felt of him when they first met—the bitterness would've surged to life, the monster purred of how fitting it was that they saw his evil spots and evil eyes and only the darkness his soul held.. that they never saw the softness, the light, the uneven beating of his uncertain heart.

The poison still ran so deep, so thick and so black, in all of their veins.

She seemed to hesitate, just as he had, and as he eyed her from the cold, wary depths of his eyes he wondered what churned through her head—what she made of his baiting, his tentative probing for her affiliation... Mauja blinked, slowly, as the brief moment passed, and her voice spilled out again. It seemed so at odds with the moment's hesitation, more like the disjointed speech of a curious, exuberant child (a nearly painful reminder of Sielu); his ears flickered, mind storing the bits and pieces of information away even as his heart sank.

It shouldn't have—he should've been delighted to hear she was of the Edge, that she could, perhaps, for a time supply him with company, to distract him from the dark cloud looming over his mind.. but no; it suddenly made him despair instead, to hear her ask so innocently if he called it home too, and to feel the sickening beat of his heart as it screamed out, like a dying animal, that it wanted to say yes...

Slowly, and it felt like letting out the last, rattling breath and truly dying, he shook his head, long mane waving against his pale white neck. "No," he said, much as it pained him to force the quiet, heavy word out—he wanted to swallow the word, deny it, spiral back through time to when he could've answered differently.. but if he went back, this meeting would've been different, and his mind would've spun and plotted on how to best put her down, while he smiled and conversed to lure her in.

He wanted to go back to his situation. He didn't want to go back to himself.

"I'm not," he went on after a heartbeat's hurt silence, something in his voice smaller, more tired. "But I'm a friend of Kahlua's—have you met her?" Another small pause, a small silence, the shield in his eyes slipping somewhat, the blue edges growing softer, sadder somehow, before he spoke a final time his turn, voice as heavy as the mountains.

"My name is Mauja."

It seemed unlikely she would've heard the stories of old, and somehow know his name.

[ @[Leeka]! Sorry, life ate me for a bit. ]

Se dem brinna över verkan se dem dansa framför bål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål