The stallion drifted off, before she could say more. She watched him go, momentarily before feeling like it didn't matter. One less unicorn to think about was fine with her, and if he was truly interested he could always return. Attention upon the pale mare, she could sense her thinning patience, and kept her lips sealed so she may speak her part. Her triangle ears angled upon the mare, and she only blinked thoughtfully as she spoke. When it came to the question, Faelene did not answer right away. She knew for certain Mauja accepted or denied such requests, but besides him she wasn't sure. She was quite new herself, and not yet costumed to the Edge and it's workings. She confessed of her long journey, and her want for a home of unicorns Faelene had remembered how she had wanted the same thing. Who was she to deny her a chance? She wasn't anybody, not really to keep her from trying. She had collected her emotions, asking a little more politely about things. Letting her shoulders relax, she kept silver hued eyes on Tillas. "Only unicorns live here, in World's Edge, and King Mauja will have to decide if you may remain," she responded matter of fact, being nice but to the point. The next thing to do was to let the King know there was someone here,wanting. Charcoal colored nostrils took a deep pull of air, readying her lungs. Then the mare turned her snout toward the forest, letting out a deep yet feminine call for her King to meet the wanderer.

It was a voice he did not recognize. It was a voice that shook the earth in the way all Edge members' did, alerting him, whether awake or asleep, that his presence was requested. Definitely feminine in its qualities, he pegged it as a mare, and not one he knew all too well. As of late there had been several newcomers, many of them mares, so it was nothing strange that he did not know them and their calls. Some had never had occasion to cry out for him, so how was he then to know? Even if he required each and every one of them to shout the first time he met them, he'd not be able to remember it all - and, their cries seldom sounded the same up close as they did when far away. So it was pointless, and he was left mystified as he easily navigated the forest, drawing closer to the pair. The scent of the mare Descaro had brought home grew stronger, as well as the one of a stranger, and as Mauja finally became silhouetted in the fog, so did they; one tall and slim, shimmering and pearly white, the other slightly shorter and stockier, midnight black with tresses of blood red. Faelene, his mind whispered, and approved of what he saw.

Not having heard what they had been talking about, Mauja effortlessly glided up to them, moving his legs but the motion lost in the swirl of mist around his striped, frost-covered hooves. A deep whicker rumbled in his chest and he reached out to gently touch Faelene's black neck, gratitude evident upon his face. "You called?" he asked of her, voice smooth and soft, and after a heartbeat his ice-colored gaze swept onto the lissome stranger. A silver horn sat proudly upon her brow, and inwardly he approved, but his outward expression remained neutral but curious, hesitant to judge, hesitant to hope. Who was she, behind that glossy coat? Was her heart like a red rose, romantic and frivolous, blind to the glory of her race, or was it swept in black satin? Only time would tell...

The younger mare managed to hold her tongue, and a brow half rose wondering if it was so difficult to mind her manners. None the less Faelene was grateful for that. She rather not deal with attitude, and it proved maybe Tillas was not so unwise. One intelligent act did not mean everything. The covers that were worn could only speak so much of the layers beneath. Faelene was not curious about those layers, except for one reason; she didn't want to call for the King to greet a whining, arrogant, and ungrateful trespasser. Everyone's time was precious, and she had noticed the herd numbers growing, he probably had so much to do and so little time. With no one to advise her if her move was wise, she let her judgement settle, and her mind ease. What was done, could not be changed and they would have to wait and see if he could make the call. The charcoal cloaked maiden, had hoped to wait in silence. A question popped out of the more ashen damsel's mouth. "So, who is King Mauja?" Faelene could not answer that question, because she did not know herself. It first occurred to her as a question with such a wide horizon of answers. Dark mask became thoughtful, and she shifted her weight amongst her thick pillars. Who was Mauja the Frostheart? She seemed to ask herself, collecting everything she knew. The list was very short. She could describe his appearance, but not who he was. And it bothered her. She wasn't about to stand, gawking off like some dope, pondering the universe. That would take all eternity. A hint of a smile on her velvet lips she answered,"That you will have to figure for yourself." And I... she miserably added in her thoughts. Her mind was going to pick itself apart, trying to think how she would even begin to know the King she served who undoubtedly had better things to do, when she heard distant movement in the forest. Ears cast back, and she turned her head around to see who was upon them. She was greeted by a masculine tone, silver irises meeting one of icy blue, a single puff of warm breath upon her neck. She caught his silent expression, and it eased her to see it. She had done the right thing. Though she would not admit it, she was always waiting for anger, for harshness but this King had yet to show her any of that. "Yes," she answered, letting her eyes fall upon Tillas. "I found a weary traveling interested in finding a more permanent home." She gave brief description, feeling that Tillas could introduce herself, and request what she may.

Being scrutinized was nothing new for the King, and all he did was shift his weight slightly to settle more comfortably. If he imagined it, he could nearly feel her deep blue gaze rove across his body, drinking in the build of his muscles and the irregular pattern of his spots. To his male ego, it was pleasing to have a mare look you all over. It meant that you weren't so ugly they had to turn away immediately. Beside him, Faelene gave him a quick briefing of the situation before falling silent. Together they waited for this stranger to state her piece, and as with all newcomers, he wondered where she came from - who she was, who she'd been, why she was here. Happy stories didn't lead to one forsaking one's home. And so, she launched into her story and his ears flitted forward, listening eagerly but not moving from his perch beside the shorter black mare. Tillas was her name, and a dreamy smile flashed across his face at the mention of worship - if only they had such a pleasant culture here... Alas, being racist had you hammered into the ground, and the simple fact that his herd consisted only of the horned seemed enough to irk others. Wasn't it his choice, who wished to spend his days with?

She used the word unicorn a lot, and he wondered what it meant, coming from her like this - coupled with the fact that she was used to being worshiped, it sounded like she might have her heart down the right road in life, but he was not one to trust the word of random strangers. She smelled of no herdland here, so the story about traveling was true, but who knew? He gave the slightest of nods, mulling over her words and what to tell her. "Welcome, Tillas, to the World's Edge. I am Mauja. Only unicorns reside in this forest, though there is a wolf who is willingly guarding our borders." He inhaled deeply again, letting it out in a thoughtful sigh. "Things are a bit different here, I'm afraid. The majority of Helovia's inhabitants are of the opinion that we're all one and the same, and those who think otherwise are treated with open hostility." He didn't know what Faelene thought of all this - if she was a racist, or just one of the residents here. He didn't know most of his herd as well as he liked to, but he didn't even know where Aurelius' heart lay. "So, even if you believe yourself above others, broadcasting it is a bad idea." So far he had not given away too much of his own opinion. Mauja always trod carefully, and he glanced at Faelene, trying to gauge her reaction to all of this. He liked the odd mare, and hoped that she would be welcoming to these ideals around which Tillas and Mauja skirted.

"There is," he agreed coyly, nearly tasting the unspoken words she hid behind elegant lips. Curious as he was he found no polite way to pry, and besides, he wasn't even sure if she was just being a bit hesitant and always this awkward when speaking, or if she was truly weighing every word as heavily as it seemed. And if she did not speak all of her mind, neither would he just give her the story she nearly asked for; after all, was he not one to play with others, harmless as it is, though? She bowed, and he hid the grimace threatening to break through. Mauja did not appreciate an excessive use of his title, nor excessive, flourishing shows of 'respect'. Bowing took no more than lowering your head, whichever ways you added eloquence mattered not. Respect did not come from a bow. Respect came from knowing, seeing, evaluating and finding worthy: respect came with time and great deeds. This King preferred honesty and openness, and those who looked him in the eye. Perhaps she would learn. Some did. Aurelius had. There was hope, and he was not one to encourage this behavior, so perhaps in time they would get it. Still, he was far too polite to correct others on how they behaved, since they probably though that they were being polite. That he was the odd one out was hardly their fault.

And oh boy, she really was adamant about this unicorn thing. "Yes," he simply said, not seeing the need to elaborate further. Had Faelene not told her? Maybe not. Not all knew. Some knew but not why. It wasn't in Mauja's best interest to let everyone know the plans he harbored. And so he merely smiled, a grimace which turned to cold stone the next time she opened her mouth. Eyes that had danced with remnants of sun's warmth turned to glacial ice, a clear shift in his demeanor which indicated she trod on very, very thin ice. He did, however, not interrupt. He needed to know what the rumors said. What they knew of the Plague. Of course, a few no-name victims had fallen, newcomers no one would miss. But on the other hand, d'Artagnan had tried to offer his services to the Foothills, with little success.

Oh, well. Their loss - for now.

Silence was her only answer for a while, something heavy and cold to it, but Faelene filled in. Clever. "There is truth even in lies," he murmured, weighing the situation. It would be good to know where Faelene stood on the matter... but what if Tillas was nothing more than a spy? He allowed his gaze to remain unchanged, even though he could not trust her - yet. The fact that she knew something bothered him. "Where did you hear this rumor, hm? How many conclusions did you jump to yourself?" If it was sort of - widespread... then damn, they had a leak. If it was just wild speculation - which he sincerely hoped it was - then they were safe. Who wouldn't gossip and create tales about dark brotherhoods in the depths of ancient, mysterious forest, when its current herd consisted only of unicorns, and the King itself looked like something from a fairytale? With all the accusations already being thrown about by a certain Foothills herd, it was no wonder if such tales had sprung up.

It was with the same cold air as always, with the same collected face and sharp, scrutinizing eyes, which he took in the information. Complete stillness, something unnatural about it, overtook him; his withers did not twitch when a fly alighted atop them, his tail did not slap against his hocks as it so often did, nor did his blue eyes narrow in suspicion when the slim mare's tale was spilled. He simply remained stoic, statuesque, though even in his chest his heart was reeling from dismay and amusement. Tillas had changed tack completely, stopped skirting around the issue and instead dug her teeth deep into it. He could appreciate sincerity, honesty, but just as he was cautious, so ought she be - especially after his warning. Yet there she stood, vehemently proclaiming how she wished to wipe the other species out.

Well, he could sympathize with her. Majorly. He, most of the time, wanted the same thing, though he'd never quite made up his mind if he wanted absolute supremacy and no other blood alive, or if he wanted them alive, rebels in the forests, a reminder of the real threat. Otherwise, his horned kin might grow lax and rise against him. Those who strove for power were seldom fit to wield it, seeking to further their own gains. Where Mauja himself fell, he was not quite sure. Absolute power, like the one Monster had granted him, was not something he normally enjoyed. It was foreign, frightening, would so easily corrupt... And yet, how could he deny the sweet thrill of it, the complete, irrational obedience? He suppressed a shiver, focus snapping back, one ear rotating as Faelene cut in right after the other mare had finished. She had quite a piece to say, and in silence the monarch listened, drinking in the little hints of her past, her warnings; she did not say whether she agreed or not, but clearly it was something she felt strongly for. Giving more away than he had for the past minute or so, he turned his entire head to better watch the black mare. That Tillas seemed spoiled to some degree Mauja agreed with, but apart from that - had he himself ever felt like that? He had just felt the bitter wind biting into his skin from a young age, as much comfort as foe. He had felt his blood running hot and cold both, felt the cry of soldiers shake his soul in the dead of night. He had fought every step of the way, but he had never, really, been the underdog.

Blizzards...

His impassive eyes watched Faelene as she took her leave, stomping off. He appreciated the act of control, but remained silent for a moment longer before returning his attention to Tillas. "Talking passionately is the very reason that rumor existed in the first place," he told her quietly. "Had I not been the one I am, had I been of the mind that we are all equal, I would likely have done the hypocritical thing and run you through for thinking differently. In fact, I should do something to you just to hammer that lesson into your head. This is a dangerous land for those who think in such ways. I will give you one chance. One. Chance. But if I find you spouting your mouth off to strangers..." His eyes narrowed dangerously, voice trailing off in an unspoken threat. He could not have anyone ruining his plans, creating rumors by blabbing what he would have to officially call "nonsense". After a few seconds, his face softened into the beginnings of a smile, though something wary remained in his eyes, like the frost upon the flowers in early spring morning. "Behave, and you will prosper here."

It was a promise he dared make. Mauja was not about to fail and let his entire race down.