Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Water beads sparkled against her pale coat, golden eyes stared at her reflection. Normally she was slim, gorgeous and elegant, these days however she was starting to show. By 'show' she meant her pregnancy was becoming more obvious. Blinking away her rather depressing thoughts away, the ivory beauty left the waters. It was past time that she reappeared in The Basin. By choice, The Impersonator had decided to stay away from surprised eyes. Who or what she did was her own business...unless you lived in a herd that liked to watch your every single move. Exiting the water, Arah allowed the sun to dry her. Standing in the direct sunlight, the heat pounded down onto her back. It was a brilliant temperature balance, the water on her body caught the cold breeze, while the sun warmed it. A sigh of pure bliss left her chops, not much else could make this moment more perfect. A flutter rolled in her stomach as her baby moved, a grin filled her chops. Arah truly did believe that she was growing into becoming a mother, before her pregnancy, she hadn't been ready. Now that a baby was on the way however...well she was growing not the roll. "What's going to be your name little baby?" A whispered question, it would;t have carried very far before being lost to the wind.

Humming, Arah wondered forward. Here in The Grove she had always found peace, perhaps the waters of the lake had some magical properties that she didn't know about, it was still an amazing place though. A few more steps forward, her wet hair dragged along the ground, it collected twigs and dust in the ends. The mere idea of cutting it had always been fascinating to her, only when the time came, she never could bring herself to do it. A chuckle at the thought of chopping her hair, it was silly really. Pressing forwards Arah became to wonder under a tree, it provided a wonderful amount of shelter on a day like this. Golden orbs looked out over the world, they were tired yet calm and excited to see what meeting would come next.

" "
363 words.
@[Mauja]
This is so lame.

Sunrise; sunset. The cycle repeated endlessly, as far as he knew, with only the odd disturbance throwing it off-kilter—like the rampage of an unknown force, the disappearance of Gods and the startling, uncomfortable reminder how dependent they were upon their deities. Mauja still didn't know what had caused it, or when they had returned, or why. He'd left in a too-long night, mere hours after the moon's first rise in a long time, and returned to a life which seemed to have returned to normal. Whatever "normal" went for around here, anyway.

Dawn had come and gone hours ago, the stark sunlight a throwback to summer's warmth, but the shadows were full of the autumn chill. He stuck to them, grateful for the respite from the heat. There was a lot of that to find here, anyway, with the willow trees so thick around the lake's edge. Their leaves were yellowing, but still provided ample cover from the harsh sun rays. He drifted through them, not out of restlessness, but rather out of a need for movement, to keep the gears of his mind turning by walking. He wasn't sure if he was going anywhere, or if he wanted to go anywhere. It seemed quite the nice thing, to just go where he happened to go, and see what it would bring. Hopefully, nothing bad, but maybe another piece to fit in the fragmented puzzle of himself. Things were slowly starting to make sense again, but he kept pending between wanting to just.. let go, start over, and finding some new cause to champion.

Truly, his allegiance was fleeting, if all he needed was a purpose, a dream to follow, some kind of ambition to fulfill his need to lead, guide, protect. Mauja had never been King for his own sake, for his own power; he'd been it for his people, trying to see to their needs, what lay in their best interest, guide them when they failed to see the bigger picture and shelter them when the world tried to come crashing in.

Ultimately, he'd failed that, too, but it was still there in his heart, a flame he couldn't put out. It flickered often these days, sometimes fading to an ember, but he wondered if it would ever burn out. Some parts of you you carried with you forever.

A scent hit his nose, and he frowned slightly as it matched something of his past. His mind spun through memories, coupling scents and faces and names, and eventually he realized he knew very well who it was: Arah. What was the white mare doing down here? Not that any of the herd hadn't wandered, but.. he never really expected to run across them where they usually weren't. As far as he recalled, she was a loyalist in the Basin, perhaps not racist, maybe not even aware of the Plague, but a stalwart defender of their mountain home. Odd, to find her here. He altered his course, heading towards her, and fought down his apprehension. Sooner or later rumor would travel, and they'd know he was back—better to face one of them now, than later, maybe get some news and information. Besides, she'd always been kind to him. Maybe she would understand.

Maybe she wouldn't.

He sighed, kept going until he spotted her pristine white through the patchwork of light-and-shadow. Her antlers glistened in the sunlight when struck, and with the vague worries of her reaction clouding his mind he failed to notice her growing sides.

"Arah," he called, gently, hoping to catch her attention without startling her.

Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

A snap of a small twig, the rustle of hair rubbing against a coat, the deep breaths being drawn. The doe heard the tell tale noises of an approach, only she picked up on them rather late. A voice from the past called to her, he sounded poignant? Demoralized? Turning slowly Arah's eyes finally caught the white stallion in her gaze. All the King's horses and all the King's men, wouldn't put Mauja on his throne again. How much did he know of The Basin now? His kingdom, was now in shambles, a mess that was being put back together by Deimos. What was splendor before is now gone, only the disorder of a broken family was on display.

"Chauvinism his weakness, his old culture in devastation..." Her voice was as quiet as the breath of a wind, she wanted it to sound soothing. Mauja may take flight at any moment, she did not wish to frighten him away. Elegantly tipping her head to the left, The Impersonator watched Mauja with the same fascination one might watch a bird with a broken wing trying to fly. Where had The Frostheart been all this time? The King of frozen souls had become a long lost memory to the white beauty of The Basin. Oh how the mighty have fallen, Psyche, Mauja and if the rumours where true, Kri and the sisters of The Hills. Once the doe had looked up to Mauja, idolised him. Now when she looked at her old hero a dark sadness filled her, pity permeated her core, it was heartbreaking to look upon him with such feelings.

Her coat was now almost dry, her eyes however glistened with wet emotions. Words did not form on her tongue, she wished to sing him a soft, pretty song about how it would all get better. Only she did not know which affliction from which he suffered, such a desultory look he held within his eyes. It unnerved her, the fire the fuelled his aspiration was dying in his eyes as they spoke.

Straightening her head and gaze, Arah could not muster a commiserable smile for her broken King. The gaze from her dejected eyes could not offer hope, and her lips still could not sing a pretty song. "Mauja." The name spilt from her lips, her once soothing voice now shaky, nervous. The doe had no comfort to offer him while she remained ignorant of what troubled him. Arah had no idea why Mauja had disappeared so suddenly, she did not know which crimes he was guilty of and what other crimes were simply rumours. The ivory raven would not judge Mauja based on rumour and in time, hopefully in time he would open up to her, share his pain. Arah wished to know the truth and she believed that she deserved the facts.

"It's good to see you again, your disappearance caused a great upset." Looking over his body, Arah checked for signs of psychical damage. The doe wondered what his purpose was, why he had returned to Helovia. When she had turned and left her home, Arah knew that she was never to return, what were the strings that bonded him to this land? "Why did you leave us Mauja? You were apart of our family but you left."

" "
552 words.

There were a good many things he had expected—forms of anger or joy, mostly. But not.. pity. Upon seeing him something in her face and eyes grew soft, sorrowful even, as if his return caused her great pain—pain she could not blame him for. A fist clutched his heart. What had happened? Why this reaction? Had he, unwittingly, caused some disaster? Her voice was but the softest whisper upon the wind, as if any sound could startle him, and warily he turned his head slightly to the side, favoring her with a pale blue eye. Chauvinism? He guessed.. maybe.. he'd never truly looked upon himself, his actions and ideals, objectively; only known his agenda, his desires, and then.. then it'd all been Psyche's, and he was just tagging along, trying to be the King he'd been. And what was he now, that she favored him with such eyes, as if he might die any moment and she was sorrowful, but knowing it? Had something gone so horribly wrong that assassins were poised to strike from the shadows, and she nothing but the bait to lure him into their line of fire?

But—no, the air smelled of no one but Arah and himself, and so the reason for her pained expression remained a mystery. "Am I that pitiful a sight, huh?" he murmured quietly, drawing closer with soft, quiet footfalls. So pitiful that your heart breaks? He swallowed the disappointment, one ear flickering forward at the sound of her voice. She sounded incredibly uncertain, as if he was a caged, wounded beast that might lash out at any moment. He frowned. What had happened to her? To him? He'd simply taken off one day, earned a few more scars on body and soul, and now he was back, but did he deserve such a reaction from her? Or was there some other wild rumor flying around? Was he known for eating hearts, now? Had that Nyx gone home and blabbered about him and d'Artagnan and their wicked pets and wicked forms of entertainment?

"It's good to see you again, your disappearance caused a great upset." Her words seemed to contradict her sorrow, and he kept frowning. What was going on here? Something felt decidedly.. wrong somehow, like emotions and words weren't lining up, and his eyes swept the darkness for anything—danger, clues. Still nothing. He swallowed, ears turning back again in dejection. Of course his disappearance would've turned some things upside down, but they still had Psyche, hadn't they? She'd been in the Basin before he had, and she had remained when he left to stalk the sands of the south... And then the question came. Why did you leave? Was there hurt there? Bitterness, perhaps, at one of their protectors vanishing without a word? He lowered his eyes, stared at her knees for a moment. He had never meant to leave them so completely, to steal away into the darkness like that—but he'd not had many other viable options. He refused to say he'd had no choice, because he had had one. And he'd made the choice to run. Sarazheha had just been convenient enough to get him far, far away.

"I'm sorry, Arah," he said after a moment, raising his head to offer his blue eyes to her—if she wanted to meet them. Apologies couldn't make things right, but perhaps they could bridge a few gaps, start the mending of some wounds—he could apologize for having caused pain, but not for his decisions. They had been his, after all. And he'd made them himself. "At first I was on a mission for Psyche.. a dangerous business which took me out of the Basin for prolonged time. And then..." He fell silent a breath, remembering the first, blessed rays of silver moonlight across muted-red sands; Sarazheha a fleeting, inky shadow, Gaucho and Midas coming in like angels and those heavy, doom-riddled words of the General. The ground erupting. The gale. The choking waves of magic sweeping through his soul and body, and the long swim out to sea. "It turned out the Edge wanted to put me on a trial for something. I wasn't too keen on going, and besides, my brother had shown up out of nowhere, and I felt compelled to help him, after he helped me. And now.. now I'm just here."

He sounded tired, incredibly tired, even to his own ears—tired and confused, and he looked at her with a face that was something halfway between a frown and one 'brow raised in vague self-mockery. He knew he was more tarnished than ever, but was determined to, one day, crawl out of his goddamn hole once and for all. It was just a matter of figuring out which way was out.