Mauja Frosthjärta

It was always night—or at least so it felt. He's Rudolph the White-Faced Unicorn, a blazing stripe down his face to guide every hungry tooth to his throat, and every eye to his ghastly frame. That didn't really bother him, though; Mauja had always been white. Moonlight had always turned him into a blazing beacon in the night, except when the snow glowed the same way. But, before this, he could hide in shadows. Even the starkest of white becomes lifeless gray when no light strikes it. It's harder to mute the glow of something on your face, to scrub off the celestial mark left upon him, cracking his mind and heart in two; he couldn't hide anymore. And in the darkness, he couldn't see as far as he used to, because that veil of hazy light was always there. Blessed or cursed? He breathed out, and shook his head, mane rattling against his thick neck. Mauja, the walking torch. At least wolves avoided his alien, glowing face.

He would find nothing here, no salvation down south by the fiery pits of hell and the fortress called The Throat. Everything he cared for lived and thrived in the snows, but he hadn't dared go that way.. hadn't dared to set foot upon the isthmus and trek into the harsh wilderness, to search for the missing pieces of his heart and puzzle his useless future together. Instead, he paced Helovia's shores like a restless ghost, the spirit of someone left behind even though he still had a body—if there could even be such a thing. Somewhere along the road he'd fallen off the path, and he wasn't sure what to do about it anymore. It was like walking headfirst deeper into a blizzard, until he really had no clue anymore, and tonight in particular he felt like someone had emptied his skull and filled it up with clouds and jelly.

At least Irma could still see in the darkness. By the seat of the rolling waves a dark shape stood, outlined in silver—like all black creatures were—and awash with moonlight. There was something familiar about him, in the slope of his haunches and the set of his shoulders. A thin horn pierced the sky. Someone from a past which felt so distant it could've belonged to someone else, maybe?

Mauja kept walking, placing one hoof in front of the other. Some part of him was wary, anxious even, maybe afraid of who it would be, but the major part of him just didn't care. Irma, graceful and pale, swept in lower, her eyes scanning the young stallion as she passed. Washed-out red; ears, horn, face. There had been violence here, of the good kind, playful and superior from Mauja's side—but he was bigger now, wasn't he? It had, after all, been a long time ago he'd last seen Voodoo. His mind kept spinning, coughing up the facts and memories as he plodded closer, until eventually he stopped nearby, ablaze in the glory of the moon. "You've grown," he simply said, blunt, and his eyes roamed the red-blazed face.

hold my hand we're off to wonderland

Mauja Frosthjärta

[ Don't worry! Mine wasn't all that spectacular either. <3 ]

He wasn't sure what kind of greeting he was expecting. Recognition? A smile? Anger? Mauja would've deserved wrath; he'd abandoned them, after all, but.. if anything, Voodoo seemed startled, as if not quite sure what he was seeing. Ghosts, maybe. Painted glow-silver and with the white blaze down his face maybe he seemed a bit ethereal, otherworldly, changed somehow. Oh, he could imagine it, alright. Tales of the icy unicorn king, who, with his horn and bright face parted the veils of night and stepped through time and space, appearing to freeze your heart over before..abducting you, or something. Mauja had a hard time seeing himself as the good guy of a fairytale, and it wasn't only because he knew what he'd done, and been through, but because.. there was, if he was going to be honest, something sinister about white creatures. Especially when they had pale blue eyes and marble hearts, statues carved from glacier ice and with hearts to match—it just made for good stories of irresistible beauty, but so cold and cruel. His siren song wasn't one of glory and redemption, it was of razor crystals and a long, frigid sleep.

So maybe Voodoo being startled wasn't all that weird, but the rest of the tale was unlikely to be something sinister, at least not with the way Mauja had nearly spaced out for a moment. "Mauja." Yet it seemed more like a question, and his eyes grew sharper as his mind snapped out of its brief reverie. "Why," he began to say, then changed his mind, night-brown eyes coming up (was he hesitating?) before continuing: "What brings you here?" By now, the pale stallion's 'brows had drawn together slightly. It wasn't a stark display of emotion, more like the wrinkling of fine, dark lines while his heart breathed quiet, heavy worry. He'd beat Voodoo up a bit once, but not because he'd been angry, or something—was there a reason for this.. anxiety? Or whatever else it was. Mauja wasn't sure he could accurately diagnose any emotion anymore. "My four feet," he replied, voice too grave for such a light statement, but something in his eyes lit up.

Irma wheeled across the starry sky before disappearing into the blackness again.

"And you? What brings you out here?" It smelled a lot of home, the home Voodoo had never known, but the scent brought bitterness and grief to Mauja's mind—things he tried to shove aside, to banish from his life. They were weakness, a blight upon his soul, and the reason he had not risen above. They weighed him down, but how do you break out of a rut you're so deep in? He exhaled, slowly, breath-smoke rising in front of his face as his eyes remained on Voodoo. Maybe he'd reply that his feet brought him there, too, but if something was on the younger stallion's mind.. maybe he'd let it out. Maybe, just maybe.

But it wouldn't surprise Mauja if he'd lost his rights to that trust—if he'd ever had it to begin with.

No, we're not ready for hell, hell no, for hell, hell no

Mauja Frosthjärta

Not everything was lost, at least, or so far out of reach he could never hope to aspire to it. Whatever tethers had held them together had come partially undone, like two lost souls adrift in the ocean, and he was unsure if he dared to swim closer. Who knew what secrets hid beneath the surface? Which shadows that were simply shadows, and which that were monsters? Oh, but he wanted to come closer, to rest side by side for a moment, and maybe he would be allowed to—his first words drew forth the beginnings of a grin, red and blue meeting calmly for a moment, a mere heartbeat. Then Mauja's voice drove the maroon gaze away again, face closing instead of blooming. Mauja exhaled, slowly, thoughtfully, listening to the silence. So there was something there, a thin veil between them, an obstacle. Something Mauja needed to pull down if he wanted to get through, but how? What was it? Was it something he had done? Or simple uncertainty? He knew that he wasn't always easy to be around, for many reasons. He usually gave so little away, it could unnerve anyone. Even now, with worry and caution within his blood his face remained smooth and calm, just that bright cast of kind curiosity in his eyes.

"I couldn't be there anymore Mauja, I'm sorry. Is that why you've found me? Are you here to scold me?" "Oh, Voodoo," the words slipped from his mouth in a rather surprised voice, sneaking through his filters and coming out through the cracks. His face lost some of its wariness, grew softer, a faint, sad little smile curling his dark lips. Had he ever come across the kind to punish others? A harsh ruler? If he had.. then he'd never meant to; he'd always tried to be there, for them, to come with understanding instead of discipline. And maybe, maybe Voodoo sensed that? Maybe it was why he raised his head slightly, looking up, as if looking for that gentle ghost which resided in his bones? Mauja peered down at him through his white forelock; he certainly hoped that was the case.. and that it wasn't just readiness for a blow. He suddenly felt ten years older. "I wasn't even looking for you, I.. I sort of left, too." He averted his eyes to the sea for a moment. It was fairly calm on that night, just lapping at their hooves. "I hadn't planned on it, but it turned out that way, and now I don't know if I can go back." A slight shrug of his snowy shoulders, and he turned his eyes back, heart biting back the uncertainty; if Voodoo had left, too, then surely he couldn't judge Mauja? It wasn't like he'd run away, more like.. like he'd come to a point in life where he found he couldn't go back, and fit back in his old life. Too much had changed, too many revelations and too many things accepted—and that blasted word ringing in his skull. Honesty. He just wasn't sure he could do it, in the bigger picture—live a life without deception? It wasn't that he liked to deceive others, it just.. had been necessary. Was it still necessary?

He forced the thoughts aside, sought for Voodoo's red eyes with his own. There were some pieces of honesty he could give tonight, though, and give freely; sincerely. And he hoped they would be of use for the black stallion. "You have nothing to fear from me."

A million miles from home, I'm frozen to the bones, I am... a soldier on my own, I don't know the way.