Wake up, I only want to wake up,
Don't wanna fall asleep, but
I'm already dreaming.

She had to be sure he was real. The irony of it was nearly great enough to make the ground cave in and swallow him whole; she had been seeking the answer to the question plaguing him day and night, and it was unfair that she had found it, and not he. If he could somehow steal it from her mind, the conclusion she had come to, would it give him peace?

Part of him was jealous that she handled it all so much better than he. True, she seemed uncomfortable about having made him jump into a wall, but she had recovered faster than he. Giving an irritated sort of noise, Irma spread her wings and pushed off his shoulder, catching the currents of steam above the pools and rising into the sky like a ghost. He barely watched her leave, his eyes studying Faelene instead. A coy smile was upon her face, mischief in her eyes as she asked if it was alright if she did it to others. Mauja opened his mouth slightly, about to answer something, but he found no words at all. He found no witty comeback, no laugh, no anger, nothing, just the confused question: who am I? how do I act?

".. but I feel for your stellar performance of being alive I owe you something..." Troubled, Mauja closed his mouth again and frowned, tearing his eyes from her dark shape. What should he say? What would the Frostheart saying? Feeling like a stranger in his own body he kept staring at nothing, knowing that his side of their conversation, if he could even call it that, was very, very.. strange. He contributed mostly with moments of silence, really. "Then," he finally said, finding something, a shard of himself, buried deep within. "You should not make promises."

From somewhere it came, a flood of cold in his veins, a rush of chill in his soul; the breath he exhaled was frigid, burning in his throat, another memory of himself crawling up from the depths. And with it, came something else. The ground just to the right of her split open with a deep groan, and hot on its heels came the ice, thick and sturdy, shooting up like a missile towards the night sky. With a clack it reached its full height, towering but a few inches to the side of her, glittering coldly in the starlight. As if not quite familiar with it he studied it, slipping past her black, warm body to touch his dark muzzle to it. It felt cold, deathly so, pallid and frigid. Something in his soul resonated with it, a deep sense of connection, belonging. Slowly he craned his head, to peer at her with a sense of darkness in his gaze — not evil, but just.. dark. Why did the ice make it easier to breathe?

Something lighter slid in across the darkness, a twinkle like a bright star upon a cloudy sky, and a small, mischievous smile curved his lips. He wasn't quite sure where it came from, it was him without a shield, or if it was the shield itself. "I think, Faelene, that in some regards, we are more alike than we know."

Shadows and ice.

Mauja Frosthjärta