Mauja the FrostHeart
February 29th, 2012 at 5:22pm

Spectral Marsh was not Mauja's favorite place in the world, but he was
curious about it ever since finding the undead child. He wondered if
there were more like him hidden beneath the water, waiting for an
escape. An undead army right under his hooves. The idea of it sent a
giddy thrill through the stallion's entire being. An undead army would
be indestructible. The other herds would collapse and fall at his
hooves and he would be the king over the whole of Helovia.
Unfortunately he didn't think it was possible to raise an army of dead
unicorns to do his bidding. The child was probably just some freak
accident. Yes, freak perfectly described the child's look,
temperament, and personality. No other word would suffice.

The sun was high overhead, beating down fiercely on the stallion as he
navigated the marsh. Occasionally he paused, his pale blue eyes
scanning the water. He could see the preserved bodies hidden beneath
the water. They all seemed to be vying for an escape, but they never
were granted any. They were jealous things, too. He knew how they
would pull the living in and drown them.

Merciless.

Mauja smiled once more and lifted his head. A merciless army was what
he wanted. He would need more than just merciless, though. They would
have to be smart and know when to murder was appropriate. The stallion
snorted then continued walking, his white tail flicking from side to
side as he tried in vain to keep it out of the mud. He would have
everything he wanted and needed all in due time.

---

Psyche
March 6th, 2012 at 4:49pm

sorry this took so long ):

She can feel the stench of death and decay boring into the pores
of her bones, seeping into the marrow. Infecting, vile. Her upper lip
twitches in disgust. What is this dreary grey swamp with the corpses
rolling in their sleep, bobbing above the surface, misty eyes gazing
upwards wistfully, full of dead hope. The black mare does not pity
such atrocious beings, however dead they may be. Gingerly, she follows
the only firm footing available, a trail of steady marsh-grass, making
sure to avoid the tainted water.

Psyche sees him, a beacon of light and spots in a sea of darkness.
Her mouth twists into a cruel grin, amber eyes sparkling with
excitement. If it isn't old Spots, she thinks with amusement, noting
how vainly he tries to dodge the mud, like she. Hey, the unicorn
calls, pausing, letting the slimy swamp grasses stroke her pasterns,
like rows and rows of zealous admirers. what's a snow-boy like you
doing in a place like this? Lips curl and contort into an almost
angelic smile, a hint of dog mixed in with the prettiness. She waits
for him to turn back, to see those cold blue eyes, so strange and
foreign in this bog of pale greens and dark browns.

---

Mauja the FrostHeart
March 11th, 2012 at 9:56am

"Hey."

Mauja turned his head, his icy gaze settling on the familiar form of
Psyche. He watched her as she walked carefully over the only secure
path toward him. "Don't slip, Sir." He goaded the mare. "It would be a
shame for you to join the ranks of the undead." He smirked and flicked
his tail, his ears tilting toward her as she asked what he was doing
in a place like the marsh.

"Thinking." He answered as he turned his gaze away from the mare and
toward the watery crypt. "Did you ever think of what it would be like
to lead an army of dead warriors?" He questioned her. "To have them
bow to your every whim and do your bidding?" They were already dead so
what would they care if they were injured? They couldn't die again,
could they? They would fight more mercilessly than a unicorn that had
a life to lose.

---

Psyche
March 13th, 2012 at 5:06pm

His head turns and she can see the dark pupils of his pale eyes,
irises like fresh snow swimming with sickly greens and browns,
absorbing the ugly atmosphere of the swamp. She ignores his remarks
professionally, continuing on until her chest is near his rump,
knowing he will not injure his associate. A smile, hard and hungry,
spreads upon her lips, don't worry, I don't plan on any unearthly
visitations anytime soon, she says, syllables drawn long.

The crystal gaze turns away, towards the hazardous surface of the
marsh, swimming with dead and dying. Ears lean backwards, taking in
his musings carefully, amber eyes trained on the powerful, broad side
of his face. She detects a strangeness in him. He broods over these
corpses, her senses tell her, orange eyes narrowing into slits,
chiseled face tilting as she listens, listens. The dead have no
alliance. No greed and no reason. They don't wield magic like we do.
It is not wise to tamper with the cycles of life, her words are
cautious. She wonders if he will understand this - most do not. They
are careless and fickle things, no better than their dead, but they
also have greed, motivation.

She knows this.

---

Mauja the FrostHeart
March 14th, 2012 at 5:13pm

"I'm not worried." Mauja said casually. "I'm just saying it would be a
shame for you to fall in, though the ensuing struggle would be
entertaining to watch, I think." His lips twitched into a grin and he
turned his head. She would probably curse him for standing there and
watching if she fell in. She was stupid if she thought that he would
try and help her out at the risk of being pulled in, himself. No, Sir
would just have to be a casualty if she went and slipped into the
marsh.

"You speak as if you're an expert on the dead." Mauja said with a roll
of his eyes. "Magic, my dear." he reminded her. "Magic to control the
dead would make them pliable. They would have no choice." He rolled
his eyes again as she said it was not wise to tamper with the cycle of
life. "What makes you an expert in such matters, Sir?"

---

Psyche
April 8, 2012 at 9:22am

o___o sorry about the wait! I think Psyche grew a beard in the meanwhile...


Psyche feels the corners of her mouth twitch. In irritation or
amusement, she cannot tell, but the mare knows she must not make it
gratifying for the spotted one to watch, so her face remains placid,
amber eyes wide and unflinching. He will enjoy it, she thinks,
twitching her tail in annoyance, the flailing of limbs and the hoarse
calling of names would cause him a riot. People are strange like that,
holding your hand with one and slicing your throat with another. But
what can she do, c'est la vie.

He chortles off her worries patronizingly and the dark mare feels
herself sneer involuntarily. She wants to tell him that this magic is
in her blood, she has seen the damage it has caused. What if your
magic fails?, she huffs, tail slapping against her thigh, scaring away
a few deerflies that thought her thigh may very well be the place to
be. You may expect them to fall where they are standing, but sometimes
that is not the case, she sighs, moving forward to arouse the still
water with her velvet-covered muzzle, brushing against his body as she
passed him (if he was close enough xD).

The spotted stallion asks her how she knows and her head lifts to
face him squarely, even if he is an eternity taller than her, I've
seen things, and with that, she turns and begins to pick her way
through the winding path of grass before her, looking back
occasionally to see if he follows.