I don't understand either. How many times hadn't he admitted that to himself? That he didn't know what was going on — that he couldn't find a way back? It was no news to him, but he didn't speak it out loud either. Once, perhaps, he would've considered his lack of control over his own life a weakness, his lack of.. knowledge, and understanding. But these days it was nothing he could help, prevent, or even solve. It just was, and weakness had taken on a more direct, tangible nature, such as considering suicide (if that was even possible?), or breaking down enough to start considering living the rest of his years in this fucked-up world. Crying, screaming, beating his head against hard things had also ceased to be "weaknesses". While he certainly agreed that some of those acts were spurred by the frustrated madness he carried within him, they also made him feel better, like a temporary cure, even though that, too, was losing its... bite.

Moving gave some of his restless energy an outlet, though his ears kept flickering restlessly and his gaze was drawn to every movement, every sudden shadow.. and to her, landing on her blurred, distorted shape before sweeping into the world beyond again. The sandy earth churned under his frosted hooves, and as he was so used to the thick forests of the Edge, it felt natural to pass so close to the trees. Sometimes his pristine white side brushed against the coarse bark, and rarely did he twist to avoid them with more than just an inch or two. Onni moved more or less beside him, a shadow mimicking his own path as he wound around the trees, but then, when he flicked a glance at her and idly expected her to walk around the tree, she merely walked through it. Though his pace did not falter surprise, and vague amusement, lifted his face for a moment. Unburdened, the Frostheart briefly seemed ten years younger.

At her question he bobbed his head absently, one charcoal-rimmed ear flickering back towards her before sweeping forward again. Out of the forest and onto the grainy sand, it felt better, easier — to breathe, to.. exist. Here, he would see any approach from far away. Oddly enough he felt safer. No shadow would be able to sneak up on him here, no clone to come out of the trees laughing and winding itself around him.

Or just trying to have an ordinary conversation with him.

His gaze rested upon the crests of the waves as they gently rolled in to the shore, driven by the slight wind. Sighing, he remained vigilant, not daring to cock his hips nor lower his head. High it remained in the wind, his eyes never still, always watchful. Her musings captured the attention of his ears again, a humorless smile drifting across his face. Part of him longed to answer her, to speak again to fill the silence, but something in the tireless journey of the water, that endless cycle, made him pause. He did not need to answer, not yet. There was time... to think, to process. He could not trust Onni to guard him, but he could trust his owl. Sensing his wish, she spread her wings and took to the skies, a streak of white in the shimmering sunlight as the Ice King closed his eyes.

Her name was Onni and she had an open heart. Part of him regretted each time he formed a tie to a hornless, another chain to anchor him to the sea floor when the tide rose.. another soul's name to carve into his spine when that day came. Another weight to drag him down through the levels of damnation.

"It sounds mad," he said after a few minutes of silence, not at all quite sure that he had decided to speak aloud, but apparently he did all the same. "But I am beginning to think that you are real." His right eye cracked open and he tilted his head to glance at her; she was no more solid than before, and every once in a while she'd flicker, as if whatever force bound their worlds together momentarily waned. "If you were a trick of my mind, surely you would not have walked through a tree." A small smile, a shadow of the one he had so often wore before, curled his lips slightly, and he marveled at how long it was since he had genuinely felt anything even close to mirth. But then he snorted, and raised one hoof to paw at the wet sand. "What wouldn't I give to know what keeps me here, or what here even is." He turned to look over his shoulder, at the forest. "There's a massive forest there, but that tree towers above them all. The soil is dry and grainy, so I can see why it has turned into sand. And.. we're about one yard from the ocean." He turned his attention back to the water, feeling yet another wave of comfort roll in from Irma.