Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

He arched an icy 'brow at the stallion; he doubted a gift had been left for him? Perhaps one hadn't, a possibility that could very well be true, but somehow he doubted all those ravens had been there just for him. He might be the Edge's only King, but he wasn't the Edge's only Moon follower. Besides, the tricky goddess had gifted, here at the very Edge, a mare not of the herd, not even of the Unicorn blood. Why would she not lend a gift to a tired old soldier, who has come to fight in her name? "Whyever not?" he said in a smooth voice; the predominant emotion was curiosity, at why he thought himself not blessed by this meeting. "Perhaps we just don't see it - yet." He gave Daltoff an encouraging smile. Until the Moon proved him wrong, he would believe she had gifted him, too. He deserved it, worn as he was.

Daltoff moved with him, like a solid shadow, and Mauja wondered why. He certainly had no qualms about snapping at others, which he had when the FrostHeart had made the mistake of making light of his journey, so he hardly felt like the lapdog Aurelius sometimes was. Was it reflex, something from his previous culture - a basic instinct of soldiering? Or was he genuinely interested in the pale company, or respected him enough to not get left behind and thus subtly mock his command? Mauja was a curious stallion, and he was curious about pretty much everyone he met. "I greatly appreciate your offer, King..." yet he seemed to say it with regret; concerned, confused, curious, you name it, the alabaster stallion came to a gentle halt, turning his head (feathers tickling the neck; how queer a sensation) and peering at the scarred creature. True enough, he'd looked near death in the Threshold, and had just walked across the hellish Helovia to get home.

"I need time to heal..." Pale blue eyes had flashed to the healing cut on the shoulder, to the many tiny scars scissoring the strong body, and to the weary shadow in the single eye. Time to heal. Emotionally. He gave a slow nod; it was not everyday one ran out on their own life, leaving blood in their wake. "Of course," he said, itching to ask about the past he was trying to shake off - apparently Daltoff had come to like him enough to share that tiny tidbit, to make this small show of weakness. It pleased the King, and he would not mock him, or take advantage of the situation. He wouldn't sneer and call him a coward. He cocked his head, and stared at the forest. Black down still cradled his frosty hooves where he stepped. "The forest is a bit thicker up north, and will offer more shade. Just call if you need anything; I'm usually around." There was a hint of genuine concern in his voice, but he flashed the soldier a small smile all the same, as if to say, it's okay, you're safe here, and then he turned as if to walk away - but he hesitated, swung his pale gaze back to Daltoff. It had felt very much like a form of dismissal - and the notion of being dismissed struck him as curious, but he respected it all the same - but perhaps it would be more impolite to just walk out on him without even offering to say. After all, perhaps he had just wanted to talk about nothing for a while, to forget even briefly? Mauja could hardly know the thoughts of others. "Unless you'd rather I stayed?"