He let the silence be, simply walked across the sun-warm earth. Tall, coarse grasses, still green but not with the vibrant hues of spring, waved gently in the faint breeze, whispering words not meant for the ears of equines. The gull cried its telltale, ugly song, a keen reminder of life in the Edge—a life a long time ago. His tail lashed once against his hocks, sticking against his muddied legs again. Curiously, he peered at her from the corner of his eye. What was she thinking? Was she thinking about herself, or the little bit of truth he'd revealed about himself? He hoped it was the former. He didn't need more mares investigating the state of his soul and mind.

When she finally spoke again, it was a question about him, but not what he had feared. He let his breath out in a long sigh. Why, indeed? Maybe because loneliness didn't affect him the same way as it did others. True, he nearly always enjoyed a spot of company to keep his rambling mind distracted, an intellectual conversation to entertain him when the duties of life became dull and boring.. the chance to glean more of whom it was he talked to, little bits of secrets slipping out twined around words. Or maybe long stories willingly shared, of foreign cultures far away, or other such things—but even when left to his own devices, Mauja never truly suffered. At the end of the day he talked to himself, because it was better than nothing else, but being alone did not plunge his spirits into deep depressions. He was fine on his own, but enjoyed leading, guiding, protecting... So while ruling with his own brand of altruism, it was as much for himself as for his people. He craved the status in society, but never sought to hold it with corruption, fear, and greed.

"Company has its pros and cons," he replied with faint humor. It was a sad thing that she, who desired company, apparently had been left alone for so long, when there were others more fit to bear the burden of loneliness. "Though right now, it's for.. political reasons, I guess you can say." He gave a small shrug. In terms of Helovia, he wasn't downplaying it: but in terms of the impact it had had upon his life and mind, he was. Helovia cared naught of who sat upon the Basin throne or what that mind dreamed of, but for Mauja, coming to the conclusion that he could no longer side with the Plague's ideals had been.. overwhelming, truly. And still was. Frankly, he didn't know how to act if he came across one of them, what to say or do—or what they would say or do. So he kept to himself, simply because he wasn't ready for that confrontation yet.

And whoever ruled the Basin could keep the crown. He wasn't interested in it right now.

"Why are you alone?" he asked, gently. Any follow-up question to his own answer would skirt onto dangerous ground, to things he did not want to contemplate nor answer—things that went too deep, and were too dark. He would not betray the Plague, anyway. He wasn't ready. He hadn't processed it enough. Didn't fully know where he stood. And so, he leaped onto the chance to divert the conversation to her, away from him, away from all things grim and dark and twisted. "If you don't mind me asking, that is," he added after a heartbeat, an afterthought of courtesy, knowing what it was like to value one's privacy and secrets highly—but also craving her answer, because if there was one thing Mauja devoured, it was the knowledge of others'.