There is something ancient in his voice, nearly as old as the Lunar Goddess had sounded when she had softly spoken to the little golden figurine that stood lost both physically and emotionally before the great snowy king. Athena was but a child in comparison to the weathered stallion, and she was finally starting to see just how out of place she was in the rugged, unforgiving reaches of the Basin. Why was it after so many seasons she was only just now seeing it? How could she have been so blind? In her awe of the majestic woman that had shaped the very world she lived in, had she lost what little sensibilities she held about her person? Did every other mortal fall to the supposedly- or apparently- wicked ways of the celestial beings? Mauja seemed so worn down, and Athena almost childishly hated the Moon Goddess for hurting him as she did. Her allegiance normally did not shift so suddenly, but Mauja had been there with her what seemed like every step she'd taken in the snowy land. In her years of living in Helovia, nobody had so much as attempted to learn her name. Even in her beloved desert homeland, she was unknown and practically unseen. What was she worth, after all, when wings did not adorn her body, and she had no real use to her kin?

Another sigh escaped her pale golden lips, what seemed to be the thousandth since she had been trapped in this icy land. Why did it feel like every sigh seemed deeper? Seemed to tear at more of her soul with every new shaking exhalation of sorrow and loneliness? Was the significance of a single blow of breath truly so high? And why did it seem like her soul, her hope, was leaving upon the wisps of the air that had once been held so close within her bodice? Would it eventually wear her down into nothingness? If so, would she be left merely a shell, a hollow unused container in an arena of death that was built to preserve her remains so perfectly? It was depressing how little she had done, accomplished in and with her life. If she really were to pass away in these snowy flowers, encased in crystal and with the tears of her own solitude upon her gilded cheeks, would there be any whose hearts would crack in acknowledgement of how she had left them bereft? Would her name echo upon the lips of mournful friends, acquaintances? Would even the young woman who had been far more painfully enslaved alongside her remember her? Was she so easily forgettable, replaceable?

Athena didn't realize how her own breath hitched, how her eyes watered a little too harshly, until it was already too late. Mauja's softly spoken words plucked a string inside her chest, vibrating with the need for a friendly touch. Somebody, anybody, to realize that yes she was there! That she was alive, a part of this world, and that she left as much of a print as they did with every step. The warmth he spoke with was simply overwhelming when compared to the frozen waves that had washed all warmth and solidarity from her frame since her arrival. Was this what the Lunar Lady had desired? To show her the pain of loneliness, the sting of being forgotten? Tiny tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she laughed mirthlessly as they slipped from her cheeks as if eager to leave her pathetic frame. They fell like diamonds shed from coal, her own tears worth more than the place they had originated from. Somewhere along the ivory petals they landed, their rainbow show beneath the northern lights ending in a silent, unheard bow. Athena couldn't help likening it to her death, some time in the future. A quiet, subdued curtsy to an empty theatre, upon an empty stage. No flowers to be placed in her arms, no quiet words of gratitude nor promises that she would be remembered. Her curtain call would have to be from her own lips, for nobody would be there to say goodbye or weep over her when it was time for her to meet her ancestors above.

A muzzle was offered to her shoulder, and she welcomed it wholeheartedly, almost desperately. Reaching up as high as her tiny frame could reach to press the length of her neck to Mauja's, should he not move away and discourage her advances. She couldn't stop her tiny, shaky laughter until his question melted like dark chocolate and honey into her audits. Sobering herself, sniffling quietly in the silence around them, she hoped to press her cheek to his strong shoulder, perhaps glean from him the bravery and fortitude that kept him moving. "All I wanted was the power to heal...so she bid me to heal far more than I could ever manage. The lust of a rapist, the loneliness of a hybrid, and the racism that lingers here. To stay in your borders until the end of the Bird's song, when summer took hold. But I could not...I was unable to do anything, merely try and make miss Faelene as happy as possible..." her voice tapered away into something akin to a hopeless whimper. Wishing to hide in his spotted pelt for the rest of eternity, wrapped in his warmth, forever safe. Protected. Acknowledged.

"You are the only person to see me, Mauja. I am nameless, faceless, meaningless. I failed the only God I've met. I failed to meet her standards as a healer. I failed to befriend anybody in the years I've lived, and even the one I helped so much left me without a single backwards glance...I failed to help her, failed further in trying to protect her...sometimes I wonder if I'm bound to fail you too, Mauja," she breathed, and her voice choked and cracked upon the last utterance as if she was terrified of it becoming true. Mauja was all she had left, it seemed, and she was scared to lose the only solid thing she had left to hold onto. If only he'd let her cling to his knees like the lost, useless child she was.