það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir He spoke funnily, and watched intently. Jade eyes — was the soul beneath jaded, too? A humorless twitch of one corner of his mouth, his sluggish mind slowly sifting through the mud and searching for the light. The light, goddamnit, of all things to search for. Some manners of speaking were strange, but in a sense, he did feel like he spun listlessly in murky waters. Sunlight would mark the road up, and up, he wanted to go, into the cool clarity of cold, cold snow and frosted edges. Not this tired creature who blinked slowly and fought to keep his gaze unclouded. And of all things to speak of, the stranger chose death, and Mauja snorted softly. His screams would not carry far; his throat would char and close as he choked on too-hot air and gases. Maybe he'd be able to shriek for a while. Perhaps Kri would hear and come watch the show.

That almost amused him. Too bad he did not intend to incinerate himself.

Another gust of hot air washed against them, coming up around the rim and toying with his long white hair. It whipped through the air, the heat uncomfortable in his lungs, and turning to glare at it for a moment he drifted another step away, striped hooves meeting the arid dirt. He mentioned Ophelia, and Locket replied, stating he followed Ktulu. Mauja fought down a snort. So he followed the dark wench who could choke you. Fond as he was of the white Phi, he had little fondness for her sister. Locket had yielded to one but served the other, and personally, Mauja thought he'd made the wrong choice. Narrowed eyes were trained on him, and the frosty stallion wondered if, perhaps, Locket thought he was a threat to them. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. Sharpening his own eyes, forcing his wavering, tired attention to focus, he met Locket's gaze steadily, and tried to pick apart what he said. An admirer? Did Ophelia have admirers? Did she have, err, stallions? Already admired? What was he talking about? Even though he was not sure of what Locket meant, his gaze betrayed nothing; was it just his way of wondering if he'd come to compliment Ophelia on her victory, or was he talking about something a lot more physical-?

Deciding he'd just give himself a headache, and ignoring the fact that Locket had ignited a deep, flaming curiosity and envy, he opened his mouth to speak, but the stallion laughed, and he wondered if there was something to what he'd said.. if there was something he was missing out on. He'd never taken Ophelia for the kind to do those kind of things, and picturing her with a harem of stallions just made him frown slightly. Then again, did he truly know her? "You could call me a friend." And it was true; despite their first, chaotic meeting, they'd developed a bond of friendship that stretched across time and space. They had never spoken of.. private matters, though, and as he smoothed out his frown, he tried to wonder about her — glad that Locket turned his eyes to Leyra. While he listened with half an ear, Mauja wondered at how easily Phi had accepted his touch after the battle — wondered if she'd accepted the touches of others, too. She didn't seem the type, but, who was he to know? Tiredly he shoved it aside. She was free to do what she wished. He'd find something out sooner or later. Blinking, he forced his mind to return to the present, wondering why, indeed, Leyra was here. Why she was back.
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