She was as he remembered; small, golden, but so warm, like the sun itself resided in her very skin. The moment her eyes settled upon his moonlit frame her expression lightened up, like she'd seen someone pleasant — an old friend, perhaps, and not one of the cold beasts who kept her shackled to the north. But then again, it should not surprise him, not with the soft words she'd spoken to the night, and, unwittingly, to the owl, the constant guardian of these lands of snow and chill. Stone-hearted and vigilant she remained upon her branch, her eyes elsewhere.

His words seemed to touch her, like sunlight touching a night-blooming flower, though she did not quite wilt, merely.. hid away, like what he'd said was something she wouldn't quite believe, nor wished to associate with. A slight smile curled the corner of his mouth, elegantly masking the slight surprise he felt. Some piece of his soul, of his heart, had stirred, but not the part in which dreams of black and white mingled.. no; it came from the same place that other emotions came from, the faint wash of pride and affection associated with viewing his children. Something about Ari, so innocent and young in some ways, made him want to protect her, to steer her through her life, and speak to her of the truths he knew. And on the tail of that came, just as surely as the sun casts a shadow, the stab of guilt, the whisper of doubt, the subtle suggestion of violence, of releasing the cold into his blood.. rectify the problem, cure the weakness... It would hurt so much more than a stab to the heart. With nothing to betray the moments of division beneath he wrenched it aside, soothed himself and sealed his heart away; these were things he could ponder some other day, for that which mattered was what he did in the end.. not what he did here, today. Even if his heart rebelled at times, his mind remained loyal.

She seemed to wait there, out on the flowers, her breath steaming gently into the colorful night, hiding behind her pale forelock. Sometimes he couldn't help but feel like the greatest villain of all, snow-soft and gentle, diplomatic and friendly, caring even.. while knowing the depth of darkness which lay beneath his skin, and how the cold, razor-sharp wind howled across the barren landscape of his soul. Night-white eyes blinked, steady as the trees themselves; where his motions ceased, hers began, drawing her closer until she let his name fall from her lips, like something precious, a gift, and not the name of someone who could throw her off the mountains and watch her body break and crumble. Perhaps, he thought, his eyes held by hers, because she knows that I wouldn't, without very good reason. The small, lopsided smile grew a fraction larger, but still a gentle expression, and as her muzzle extended, his did too.

She was no prisoner here, not in the presence of the Lord, and their plush noses met in a friendly touch. Warm breath streamed out of his nostrils, rising like smoke in the cold night towards the sky. The dance of colors cast their diluted glow back down to earth, shimmering and flickering across snow and hides. And, just as he was about to say something, something which left his mind entirely, she recalled his comment about the moon, and concern filled her up.. anxiety in her voice... One of Mauja's ears rotated back for a moment, before coming forward again. It was not the stalwart denial of a fanatic, like his own encounter with Aylin, but rather the confusion of someone who had just been told maybe their idol isn't who they thought. Part of him wondered if maybe it hadn't been better if he'd kept his mouth shut, because what did he have to offer her but bitterness and cynicism? He had no other god to offer her, no salvation, just broken truths and a not so endearing picture to paint of them. But would it be kind to let her wallow in the same faith as he had, until she turned her back on Athena, too? Wouldn't it be better to take the blow, now, than later, when it would hurt even more?

And did she truly trust him so much that she was worried by the opinions of a bitter old ice-cold statue?

"I was once her King," he said quietly, raising his head to let his eyes rove the horizon, the line between sky and earth so distorted here in the mountains. The days in the Edge had been.. different, but well all the same, and he still missed the foggy forest and pines, the scent of brine and the discordant cry of gulls... "Chosen, just as Ra was chosen by the Sun, and Gossamer by the Earth — and as Time chose Psyche." The smile playing across his face had a certain sad edge to it. "I followed her, blindly even, ruled by her divine grace and will. But Mirage, that dragon, ran a band of Moon worshipers, and their faith was, apparently, better than ours. While choosing our Doctor to sire her son she betrayed us to them, and has since never offered explanation nor apology." He shrugged, a roll of his snowy shoulders, and turned his pale eyes back to hers; a year after the defeat it still stung, but at the same time it sounded petty almost. "We did nothing wrong," he continued quietly. "We supported her when the Sun scorched the lands, we suffered through his wrath and sought to heal the Edge, took the blows for her — and we were rewarded with betrayal. Loyalty means nothing to her, for she does only what her fickle whims and desires ask of her. What does it say about her, that she willingly sends a loyal pegasus into the midst of those who are rumored to loathe them? Where it was likely you'd lose your life just by entering?

"She is a god, Ari. She's selfish and cruel, and even if you're someone who follows her she cares little for your well-being."