She seemed quite calm, talking to a ghost (or herself?). It wasn't strange to him that Onni would accept it, as Onni had known him before, but a complete stranger? Slowly he looked down at himself, but of course, in his own world, his flesh was solid and his skin whole. Nothing of transparent souls and dimmed edges, not like she was to him. Cautiously he decided that she was strong-minded, to be mostly unfazed by talking to a specter. "So, Mauja, what are you looking for?" Was it the veils of mystery regarding a lost King which drew her in? The chance to return him, perhaps, or merely the adventure? Since she did not recognize him, surely she didn't know of his.. meager deeds but large following? Or of his defeat? "What are you here for?" The way back home, he thought bitterly, but didn't say it.

"This is Helovia's Threshold," he said after a moment, something thoughtful in his voice. "It's where the newcomers usually enter Helovia." Lifting his frosted hooves above the lush spring grass of his world he moved a little closer, his natural grace distorted by the rift between their worlds. Behind him, his tail flicked once before he drew to a halt again, peering at her as if he could somehow see her better just because he was nearer.

He couldn't, but that was slightly beside the point.

"I have come here a hundred times before, to give shelter to the unicorns in need, to walk these forests and look out for my kin — but where I am, this forest is empty, save for you and I." Slowly he tilted his head, the sunlight glittering in the frost upon his horn. This land should not be empty, devoid of the touch of the living horses as it was where he stood. "It is I who should ask what you want, what you seek." He chuckled lightly, glancing at the sky again, but Irma was further away, unseen to his eyes. Lowering his gaze again he tried to focus it upon her eyes, but it was hard when they were barely visible. "But, that's not the case, is it?" Giving his head a small shake, there was something light in his voice, but he knew that he was just pretending not see the demons. But her presence was a sanctuary for his sanity, a small light to keep the darkness at bay; he could remember himself, at least slightly, and forget the place he was in, and the weights dragging him down.

But what to answer her? He had rambled to buy himself time but not answer had been formulated in his mind, no truths to speak. No clever, twisted words, no wisdom to impart nor any joke to make, to make light of his own situation. He had nothing but the bare, gray truth: "I don't know why I came here today. I'm just wandering aimlessly, ever seeking the road back home and never finding it..." And there was a certain degree of blunt honesty in his words, a slight seriousness in the set of his face as he watched her, wondering what she would say. Would she offer her condolences on his lost self? Again, he gave his head a tilt, narrowing his eyes a fraction. "And what are you here for?"