( Paladin the Geographically Challenged <3 )

Bit by bit it felt as if the talk eased them back into where they had almost begun – a far shot from relaxed, but perhaps not as suspicious.. not as tense. He wouldn't trust to turn his back on Paladin, nor did he want to particularly much, but it felt easier to breathe, as if he wasn't choking on pent-up testosterone and dominance. They were an odd gathering, for better or for worse, and while he had no plans to get along with the world forever, it would make it easier if he did for a little longer.

And, maybe, if he didn't try to chide or make jokes with the old warlord. He hadn't seemed to appreciate that. Maybe he was just serious, or maybe he thought Mauja (who wasn't that young, but younger than Paladin if the silvering hairs were anything to go by) had no place to rebuke him, no matter how gently. Well; Mauja wouldn't be where he was today if he hadn't paid attention to the lessons life taught him, and instead of firing back that he loved snow, he simply let his lips curve into a smile, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling with it. He'd never taken the darkness for a personality, never hammered the ice so hard into his soul that it stole every ounce of warmth and joy from him. He saw no point in such a life.

"I think there was a forest in the Throat once," he said quietly, the memory wakened by Paladin's tale of the ruin of his home. A sandy, earthen floor, with sturdy trees gripping the treacherous terrain, their crowns swaying to a breeze that wasn't so dry, Dragon's Blood still towering above them as it did to this day... And the ocean, so much closer than it was today. It was a memory he was not too keen on sharing with either on them, yet he had said something about it, but said no more, hoping they would pass it off as a speculation based on the remaining tree, and the scatter of foliage around the oasis itself. But he knew differently.

Midas' dreamy voice had the smile returning to Mauja's face, to his eyes, that softening, brightening, of his cold gaze – it wasn't a very visible twitch of his lips, just the faintest curving of them, but it was all the more visible in his eyes, though that dimmed, too, at Paladin's rather morose and sarcastic statement. Still, he guessed he couldn't truly blame the black dun: not everyone held their emotions and expressions under such tight lock and key as Mauja. He neither could nor should judge others based on himself. "I am sorry for your losses," he began in a rather careful voice. "But not all of them are lost, at least not forever. Ophelia may have left your side to stray, but it hurt her that you watched her take the Foothills only to leave without a word. If you reach out, some things may come back to you." It was delivered solemnly, quietly even, his black-rimmed ears politely flicked forward as he hoped Paladin would not take it the wrong way. It was, Mauja figured, a slight bit of criticism, that he had let things drift away from him without attempting to reclaim them. Just because you lost something once didn't mean you had to let it stay lost, and even though he did not know what might have happened between Paladin and his white daughter in the past, he had a feeling Ophelia would not turn him away without a word – not after what she had said that day after the battle.

Mauja Frosthjärta