It's hard to get to heaven,
when you're born hell-bound.

There was a difference between the Mauja beneath the skin, and the Mauja the world saw. The beast caged within seethed and writhed, snarled and snapped, but the flesh trapping it was smooth and calm, his eyes the stillness and cold of a winter's day just before dawn. Dimly he was aware that it had not always been like this. His darkness hadn't had such a temper in the past, content to lay dormant at the bottom of his soul until he needed it. When had it happened, his patience ground down to nothing? From where had this bitterness come? He had once walked as if he were a god owning the earth, and now he was simply a shadow drifting from one place to another, darkness and anger rolling out with every breath. How could he have fallen so fast? And so low? Glory dimmed like a memory dusted over, his brilliance in the sun the only thing left; his own light had gone out. He was as lost as everyone else, while clinging to the remnant of an old, powerful life.

He wasn't exactly sure what sparked the flood of information from her – it wasn't like he had accused her of stealing his home and setting the ever-burning fires in the poor trees, or as if he'd even given away the frustration seeping through his veins. In his already irritated state, it sounded quite much like a tale of woe-is-me, but he forced himself aside to listen. It sounded very much like Smoke had borne some god-spawn, just like d'Artagnan had sired one. One of Mauja's 'brows twitched, as if torn between amusement and vague surprise, but then Smoke was stepping away, giving him a choice: follow and learn, or leave and wonder. While the absolutely easiest thing to do was to just let her walk away, he was uncomfortably aware that it was somewhat out of his character to do so. And besides, who knew when he would be given the same opportunity to learn of the past so many seemed to share?

Biting down his irritation Mauja followed her, knees pulling his hooves free of snow as he easily settled in slightly to the side and behind of her. "I didn't accuse you of anything," he pointed out in a thoughtful voice, keeping his judgment and his emotions under lock and key. He figured he could view it as practice, reigning in the monster and doing something constructive for once. Still, it didn't cool any of the strange fires burning inside him, only kept him from exploding. Uncomfortable, but necessary, if he wanted to climb back up the mountain and sit on the top again. Once, it felt like he'd had Helovia always looking over its shoulder, always holding its breath, waiting, knowing that Mauja and his kin were out there, somewhere.. but what was he now? Nothing. His presence was no longer as commanding, the fear had dulled to what- contempt? He resisted the urge to grind his jaws together. If he wanted to seize this world by the throat again and press it against the wall, he had to start doing something, instead of simply waiting for it to happen.

"So you bore one of Mesec's half-siblings," he continued in a quiet musing, trying to cling to reality and not drown in the stream of his thoughts.