but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

He just felt—warm, as if the sunlight had finally made its way through the thick ice and into his soul. Warm, even though the gentle breeze sighing past him was much too cool against his wet body and the deep, dark reaches of the pond where his hooves stood mired were nearly painful as the chill settled deep in his bones. It was a strange contrast, and for a moment, he just stood there—feeling. His sides heaved against the cold waters, his pulse thundered, down through his frigid legs and back up to his heart.

Oddly pleasant as it was, he decided that if he stood there for too long, he was going to become miserable from the cold. And that was odd, too—the older he became, the more he detested being in pain, being cold... He didn't know why, either. Was he getting too comfortable? Lazy? Or was it just because it was difficult for his fragile mind to handle?

He shook his head to himself as he headed up to the shore, Eli close behind. The water receded, from his shoulder to his belly to his knees, hocks, and finally, when it simply cradled his fetlocks he stepped out of it and onto the grassy bank. It was cold up here, too, the air leeching warmth from his wet skin.

Couldn't it ever be easy?

A snort left his dark nostrils as she said that, yes, he was living up to her stories—and well, maybe he was? He was pale, he was tall, he was graceful, he was .. scarred? Did that count? He guessed that as long as she knew nothing of him, he could live up to her stories.

As she took the time to take a look at her own reflection Mauja stepped away a few paces, into a larger patch of sunlight, and gave himself a vigorous shake. “I do feel slightly more presentable,” and one of his ears tipped back, before he turned his head to peer at her. She, too, had moved into the light, and it struck deep glints in her wet coat. The dapples were much clearer, and her pale face seemed to shine in the sunlight. His gaze swept over her once, from the tip of her pink muzzle to the ends of her long, wet tail, and as he did so, he wondered why he did it—why had it felt like an invitation, a subtle encouragement, to look at her?

Slightly puzzled by himself he found himself pacing a little closer at her question. Was it a trick question? Was it—uhm, was it even more encouragement to look at her?

But why?

He always felt awkward when someone studied him, looked at him more than in passing or just to skim the details of his body. Was her question genuine, did she just want a second opinion on if she'd missed some dirt, or—did she like having his blue eyes upon herself? "Mmh," he murmured, feeling a little diminished beside her. She was radiant, and the water having soaked through her coat simply made her colors richer—Mauja was used to feeling moderately pretty, but with his unflattering shade of wet-gray he felt sorely outshined. "You've got some dirt behind your ear."

And it was true, there was a small patch of dried sweat and dust and grime, but he wasn't at all sure what to do about it. Help her get it off? The idea was daunting, nearly frightening, as if touching her was some kind of transgression.

[ @Eliaren | If you don't want to be dirty behind the ear let me know and I'll edit xD ]

Mauja

the white queen