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

A sudden rush, much like a gust of wind, ripped through him, or rather, out of him. A sensation like having the air punched out of his lungs, his heart skipping a beat and a nearly nauseating wave of adrenaline swept through him; he knew the source, knew it even as he smiled his maddening little smile and stood close to the ash-coated beast. The only thing which gave it away was a slight shadow flashing across his clouded eyes, the barest frown, there and then gone as quickly as it had come. Behind him, his tail twitched against his hocks as it always did, and once the burst of surprise at Deimos' strength had fled him, the smooth mask was in place again. Truly, he had deserved that. Play with fire you get burned. A good thing Kou wasn't here. Without giving any other indication of what awaited near the warrior, Mauja slid away across the charred forest floor, moving with the same easy grace as always. Interest lingered in his blue eyes as he watched Ambrose close the distance, bearing his slim black body closer to the walking doombringer. He held up well, giving nothing away as death's powers ate away at him. Mauja's smile widened a fraction. Ambrose had a control over his body and reactions, one that rivaled with his own; it was a useful tidbit of information, that the reason for his stoicism wasn't stupidity, but control.

"Psyche," the black beast grunted and Mauja gave a thoughtful nod. If she had deemed him worthy of knowing the cause, and of knowing its nature, he would do. It also saved Mauja the problem of dealing with slack-mouthed Plague members. Slowly, he allowed his roaming eyes to settle back on the pair. Would Ambrose bleed out, die standing, or would his body collapse in a faint before death occurred? Would Deimos just stand there and do it, or did he have a spark of kindness - of mercy - in him? In all honesty, the FrostHeart doubted he remembered compassion, devotion, these tattered shreds which made great, but foolish, hearts. His warning had been more than enough. Either he did not want to play the King's silly games, or he did not want to be touched. Maybe it was some warped form of care, that he didn't want to accidentally kill anyone, so not touching at all was best? He didn't know, and mused in silence, his tail flicking behind him as it was wont to do when he thought.

Perhaps killing the new Plague member wasn't the best course of action.

"Hmm..." he breathed, breaking the silence of the night forest. He scraped a hoof across the forest floor, a thin trail of frost left in its wake; it melted slowly in the temperate air. Ambrose was taller than Deimos, perhaps thinner too - his horn was definitely shorter, though. His face was all covered in chopped-up white. "Why don't you test your skills against one another?" While delivered as a question, it was a veiled order; he'd accepted Deimos just like that, but he'd love to see what his myrkurdýr could do in a battle, which physical skills he possessed. It would also serve as Ambrose's skill test. Mauja backed further from the pair, a ghost in the forest, shimmering like a wraith among the trees. The small, wicked smile came back to his face, mirrored by the sharpness in his eyes; he could steal off and sleep back his energy after this. Just a little longer... He could hold out, could force the brightness and edge - he'd lived this kind of life long enough to fake energy even when exhausted.

"Begin," he whispered from the darkness.

( Soo, you can just do a 3 post fight (or something, whatever you want ^^) right in this thread, Mauja will just watch until it's done. If you want it judged I'll hold off Mau's reply until a victor is announced. Sounds good? :3 )