They were quite feisty, these brothers. Kicking and squealing, biting, snapping, glaring, and he fought to keep himself from smiling. He had a feeling they'd not approve of it, though in all honesty, it was fairly amusing to watch them bicker. It nearly looked as if they tried to do it stealthily, so he wouldn't quite notice. Ah, being young... They presence made him feel old. Stoic and glacial he was when on official business, but there was a playful side to him too, a side that laughed and winked and spun among the trees. But now, he was just a creature of ice, standing in front of two foals that maybe would fit under his belly if they really tried. Though, he sure as hell didn't want any unicorn there. Not with their horns, sharp tips ready to slash open... He'd not seen many who had survived wounds to the belly. A horse's body had a hard time dealing with such open infections, especially in the stomach. Mauja blinked, trying to get the images out of his head, looking instead at Varath when he confirmed the red fringes theory. Whether it was true or not remained to be seen, but the fact that they seemed eager to accept it told that whatever else it might've been was nothing they'd want to let him know. And that was totally okay. Everyone had secrets. Mauja would find them out sooner or later.

Oh, they were on a quest for power? One cold 'brow raised as he peered at them, these two young rascals living on their own. Ambition. He liked that. At least, so he thought. Ambition, confidence. A dangerous combination, if you knew how to handle it. "And what will your powers be?" he inquired, curious. Varath seemed so sure of his thing, of being unstoppable, and Vadim pointed out that it'd been a month. Good. The metal of their souls were still soft, ready to be struck into shape on Ulrik's anvil. Malleable. The slightest of smiles ghosted across his face, something dark in it, and his head slowly tilted to the side. So young as they were, he assumed they were honest - unless they were freaks of nature, they should not have learned to so thoroughly mask their intents and curb the natural twitches of the body. He saw no guilty swish of tail, no restless stirring of ears, no quivering, rapid breaths. For now, he ought to be safe from treachery.

Evil people?

Oh god, who had they been listening to? Evil? He nearly laughed. Evil. Yeah right. Evil because they lived with their own. Evil because he kindly turned hornless away from their borders. Probably some Foothills asshole he guessed, fixing his gaze on Varath. "Fun?" he echoed, switching his focus to Vadim. Well, how on earth would he answer that? Was it fun, being a bad guy? Was it fun dancing upon a fucking knife's edge all day, just waiting for someone to push you so you'd cut up yourself and become a broken mess? He enjoyed the game, in a sense, but the stakes were high. It was a pressure, on him, all the time. "Of course it is," he found himself saying, giving them a conspiratorial wink. "There's so many interesting things lurking in the shadows, things you never see if you're not awake at night - things you never see if you're afraid, weak, or stupid." He blinked, owlishly. "But you're nothing of those, are you?" There was something vaguely sinister about him now, something icy, frigid, dark. Oh Mauja, corrupting the minds of the young. "So if you're interested in being one of the brave evil.. why, I'm sure that you'll become great, both of you."