K O U
Softly she comes
Whispers the breeze with her passing
In secret love she is laughing

Very little light penetrated the canopy the tree branches created overhead and what did only dappled the pretty mare's coat. The silver strands of her hair shimmered in the light momentarily then disappeared when her pale body was covered in shadows again. While the mare looked peaceful and content on the outside her heart and mind were nothing short of a warzone.

Distrust and betrayal ran rampant through her everytime she had seen Mauja since his brush with death. A brush that shouldn't have happened and wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tempted fate. Maybe she was blowing it out of proportion, but he had touched a stallion that could kill with a touch. What bothered her more about it was the nonchalant way he had brushed it off, as if it hadn't even mattered. d'Artagnan had said not to worry about Mauja, to worry about him since she was his nurse, but she worried about everyone.

Her silken tail brushed gently against her hocks as she ambled through the darkening forest. In all honesty she had thought that she'd gotten over the betrayal she'd felt for Mauja, but seeing him when he'd come to accept Zar'roc into the herd had only proven that she wasn't over it. She just didn't understand it. How could he be so ready to tempt death and how could he be so nonchalant about it? How could he be ready to throw away everything the Plague had already strived for?

Kou snorted and shook her head, having no answer for the questions she was asking herself. The only one that could answer them was Mauja and he was the last one she wanted to talk to.

He felt a bit guilty, actually - not for touching Deimos, perhaps, but for intentionally stalking Kou. She'd been scarce both around him and the Edge, and he hadn't spent much time thinking about her and the incident... She'd stormed off, yes, but she'd not broached the subject to him at any point later, so what was the reason to worry or ponder it? There was none at all, and, foolishly, he'd gone about his usual routines for too long. It wasn't until they'd met again, when Zar'roc came, that he'd realized that something was horribly, utterly wrong in their relationship. Kou hadn't spoken a single word to him, but given him a look that had pierced his heart in an unexpected way - a look of distrust, betrayal, maybe even disgust. It had come as a shock, a brutal wake-up call, but that had not been the time nor the place to sort it out. No opportunity had presented itself until he chanced upon her leaving the Edge. Uncertainty had plagued him into stalking her instead of simply waylaying her where she was, and their journey had taken them in to the Deep Forest. The heavy crowns were a welcome respite from the heat, filtering out the sunlight and trapping shadows beneath them. Mauja breathed out a sigh of relief, shaking his head and neck.

The relief was short-lived, however. You could only go so far in Helovia without either leaving it or running onto a shore. This was.. if you went far enough east.. you actually got out. The sudden realization nearly stopped him in his tracks. Was Kou running away? Leaving? He couldn't risk it happening. He couldn't put this meeting off any longer. It had to happen. Cursing silently under his breath, Mauja heaved himself into a ground-shaking canter, eating up the uneven forest floor with long, desperate strides. What if he was too late? What if they were deeper than he thought, and she'd be long gone, out in an unknown place where he couldn't even dream of finding her again, and making things right?

Making things right.
Such a foolish hope, and a fool he was.

He didn't know why his heart kept trembling. He'd never let anyone in, to protect himself from this kind of pain - pain that crippled, blinded, like a flash of too bright like and a deep stab of something thin and sharp. So why did he care so damnably much about one mare's opinion? The truth stared him in the face. Because she's a friend. He often tossed the word around, brother and sister, but he'd always held the world at an arm's length, trying to not get too attached, too involved - and yet here he was, up in a frenzy about the opinion of one mare. He cursed himself for all kinds of fool, and nearly ran straight over her.

"Kou!" he shouted before he realized what he was doing, and then abruptly slid to a stop. His disheveled mane lay on both sides of his neck, his forelock tangled up against his icy horn. A thin sheen of sweat covered him. "I- I thought maybe you were trying to leave..." he managed to get out in a lower, awkward voice, trying to explain his rather abrupt arrival and relieved shout.

K O U
Softly she comes
Whispers the breeze with her passing
In secret love she is laughing

Kou was very aware of the sound of hooves beating against the earth as someone behind her began to move at a faster pace. Her head turned, her ears tilting forward as the sound echoed and bounced off of the trees. As the sound grew louder Kou began to look for a shady spot to hide herself, but it was too late as Mauja burst through the trees and nearly ran the mare down. She balked and shied away from him, her blue eyes side with fright and her body tense with the urge to flee quickly.

The shout of her name brought the mare to her senses. The tightly coiled muscles of her body began to loosen. The fear left her eyes and was replaced by something akin to displeasure. She had just been thinking that she hadn't wanted to see him and there he was. She didn't know what she'd done to piss off the god that had thrown him into the scene. Kou took a step back as Mauja spoke once again, saying that he was scared she was leaving. What did it matter to him, really? If he was ready to throw his life away along with the Plague what did it matter if she left?

"What would you do if I was leaving?" She asked, her tone guarded. "Stop me?" The pale mare slipped into a very uncomfortable silence, her gaze boring into Mauja's. She was pushing her luck with him. Yes, she felt her anger and distrust with him was rightly founded, but he was still her King. "King Mauja." She threw in his title some moments later.

In so many ways, Mauja was ruled by his icy demeanor, his cold, calculating mind and the ruthless, feral cunning that operated the cogs of his plots and schemes. If he asked himself who he was, he found that he had no real idea where the individual ended and the glacial monarch began. After a fashion, his indifference and cold was him, an integral part of him, but at the same time it was something he kept carefully maintained, hardening his heart to not ever flinch or balk at a task. But whenever his heart got the better of him, when it eradicated the cunning creature and tore down the walls of ice, it was like being a stranger within his own skin - a slave to the whim of his emotions and the painful togs of his conflicted heart. Even when he was soft as snow, smiling fondly to his herd mates or playing with Snö, there was a trace of the Ice King, the FrostHeart who ruled the Edge, a thin, transparent protection of ice laying around him like a second skin. Always ready to wipe the warmth off his face and replace it with something neutral and cold. It was who he was. But now? This was not who he was - disarrayed, haphazard, floundering and scared of Kou leaving. This was not Mauja. This was some stupid, unschooled boy who didn't have enough wits to keep his emotions locked away.

And at the same time, it was Mauja. They were in the same body, shared the same spotted skin, the same icy blue eyes; they were one and the same, simply two sides of the same coin, and this side was rarely out in the sunlight. Mauja did not lose his grip over any something.

Despite the guarded tone, he felt as if she was taunting, mocking him, as if her lip would curl up in a distasteful grin. But she didn't, wasn't, and as the words sunk through his exposed skin he simply stared back, wondering when sweet, happy Kou had turned into this - what he'd done, to make her so. "King Mauja." That shattered the silence, tore the lock from his jaws. "Oh please," he growled. "I thought we were past the unnecessary use of titles." One of his trademark traits as a King was his distaste for being called by his titles, or given such flourishing things as bows. He preferred the brutal, honest camaraderie of soldiers, and not the fawning whimpering of scheming courtiers. Above all else, he was a warrior. But after his small outburst he fell silent again, and something so seldom seen upon his face washed in in its wake; uncertainty, anxiety, painted on his face as clear as the day itself. He probably would've disbelieved it if he'd seen it himself. "I- I would've asked you to, to stay." And his tail flicked against his hocks, restless and uncertain, as he frowned ever so slightly, wondering what she would do - what she would say.

K O U
Softly she comes
Whispers the breeze with her passing
In secret love she is laughing

Kou snorted when Mauja finally spoke and scolded her for using his title to address him. He was the only leader she had ever met that didn't like being called by his title. He was weird in that way, but it had made him more personable. It had made her like him a little more than she had any of her other herd leaders. Now she wasn't so sure what to think about him. Not too long ago she had considered the FrostHeart a friend, but his careless display of tempting death and the uncaring way he had brushed her off had left her distrusting of him.

"Formalities are use by those who do not know truly who it is they speak to." The mare said stiffly. "And I certainly don't know you like I thought I did, King Mauja." Her tail slapped against her flanks and one of her ears rotated back when he admitted that he would have tried to stop her from leaving. For what reason? His herd was plenty big enough. He had warriors that would throw their lives away for him if he asked them to. They wouldn't care if he tried to tempt death on a daily basis. They probably thought it brave when all it really was was foolish.

"Worry not, King, I do not intend to leave yet." She assured him. "But I'm not staying because you asked me to. I'm staying because of d'Artagnan. When he no longer needs my services then I will take my leave."

How - when - had it come to this? When had this poison spread between them, this thick, sturdy wall of ice that he could see through, but not breach? When had all the distance of the vast night sky placed itself between them, forcing their two souls to opposite ends of the world? And how, how, had he not seen it? Had he been too caught up in the steady flow of newcomers, too busy being everywhere that he had no time to truly devote to his extended family? Crestfallen, uncertain, he stood poised on the edge of flight, watching Kou with wary, saddened eyes. She lashed out, not in the way of a striking viper, but stiff and stoic, as distant and unreachable as the moon. Mauja flinched visibly, head jerking back and his long, thick forelock cascading in front of his eyes. "Kou..." he whispered so quietly he wasn't sure she'd even hear it, let alone see his lips move to shape her short name. Simply out of inexperience he couldn't name the despair which swept through him, though the sensation was far too similar to that of having no air in your lungs for him to like it. It felt like drowning, something large and painful lodging itself in his throat and chest; warm, throbbing, obscuring, threatening to do everything to him which he had ever sought to avoid being subject to. How could one mare, and one he did not even love, undo him so completely?

And as if her simple rejection of their friendship hadn't been enough she cut deeper; the mare he had once begun to trust, to believe would be there, always, like a true friend, turned upon him in a roundabout way. So why was he not angry? Why could he not find a single spark of rage inside his soul? It was as if he'd melted, no ice left, only water sloshing around inside, threatening to break out of his eyes like a transparent flood of blood. He drew a ragged breath, desperately searching through himself for something to hold onto - something that wasn't this overwhelming, heart-wrenching and mind-numbing sadness. Guilt - how could he feel guilt when he did not know what had caused this? What had he done? If it had been something terrible - he should remember it, shouldn't he? Clenching his jaws for a moment, Mauja closed his eyes, fighting back the tide of emotions. He could not - would not - lose it all, not to this cold and bitter creature which stood in the place of the mare who had once been soft like spring grass and radiant as the sun. Whether it was only to him or truly so he did not know, but it felt like everything she said, everything she did, was laced by that venomous, sarcastic edge. Not even her assurance, worry not, King, felt like nothing but a stab between his exposed ribs.

"When did it come to this?" he asked of her in a hollow voice, raising his head to stare at her; and if she did not know him, how could he claim to know her? The Kou he knew - the Kou that had known him - would not have pulled back, she would've had faith and approached him about whatever it was... Or wouldn't she? Had all he ever believed about her, the ways he thought he knew her, been a lie? Had he never known her at all? Troubled and anxious he kept staring in her direction, never quite looking - not trusting himself to hold it all together if he saw the look on her face, but feeling his own sadness being worn thin by childish irritation. He fought the urge to stupidly retaliate and call her Nurse, fought the urge to hide his own sudden insecurity behind an attack; what good could it do, to blame her for this, for not sorting it out with him, when he frankly had no clue at all as to what was going on? It was a moral twist he would not subject himself to, even though it hurt deeply to know that she had been unhappy with his actions and not let him know - not told him. How would he know if he did things right, then, if no one ever told him when he didn't? But Mauja just withdrew into himself, creeping back behind ice walls, step by step, slowly reclaiming his haywire emotions and stuffing them back into their marble shell.

K O U
Softly she comes
Whispers the breeze with her passing
In secret love she is laughing

It should have made her feel good to see the frost king flinching at her words, but it didn't make her feel good. It made her feel terrible and only served to sour her mood further. This was completely unlike her, but she had brooded over Mauja's actions for so long it had driven a wedge between herself and the king as well as herself and the rest of the herd. She still found it assinine that he would be willing to tempt death and act so uncaring when she asked what they would do without him. They all fought to keep him protected, they would throw their lives away for him and he was uncaring, it seemed.

She had every right to be angry.

"When did it come to this?"

"I'd say about the time you felt it appropriate to tempt death." She said bitterly. He wouldn't understand it, she thought. Like most stallions he was dense. He didn't know what was going on with his own members unless they sought him out and and told him themselves. As a leader shouldn't he be the one looking out for them? She certainly thought so. If they could throw their lives away for him then the least he could do was watch for any signs of unhappiness.

"We fight for you." She clarified because he wouldn't understand. "We bleed for you. We would die for you. But do you even appreciate it? Do you think before you do anything?" No, she didn't think he did. "You tempt death and you don't give a shit. Do you remember what you said?" She asked. "I guess it'd leave you with a new leader or an urgent quest to revive me - I'd not deserve it, though." Her eyes never left Mauja's face as she spoke. "You're right. You wouldn't deserve it. Not if you're so willing to throw away everything and forsake everyone that cares about you." That was what hurt her the most, she supposed. She genuinely cared for her King and it just hurt that he would be willing to throw it all away.

It was easier this way. It was like breathing instead of choking, something cold soothing the warm terror. It was like narrowing the mind from the whirling, raging chaos, placing it in a cool corridor of ice. But for now, he lidded his eyes with it, the shield which so seldom broke or cracked. He could not have clarity. He could not have clarity and keep it together at the same time. It was impossible. It clawed at the soul, scathing, posing question to which he had no answers. He should face them - had to, sooner or later - but what was the point of facing them if he could not make sense of them, if he could not hold himself together and study them? He saw none; none, and it crippled him, his lack of understanding of this spectrum of emotions. So he swallowed, glacial, unmoving, entire body covered in a thin sheet of ice which held him in. From saddened, lost, and confused, he turned into a statue, cooler than usual. Where smiles usually played, there was only chill.

Tempt death. The wheels began to turn. They whirred and whizzed, spun, but nothing showed on his smooth, cold surface. Could it be..? It was. He could've winced, kicked himself, done all sorts of things, but he just stood there, silent and unmovable like the glaciers themselves. And of all stupid things to happen, he had the urge to say that he'd just wanted to see the truth of it - see the limits of his power. He had enough sense to understand that Kou would not approve of that answer though, and without even a sigh he shifted slightly, to stare at the forest around them. Somewhere lay a pool red as blood, and a mare who raised the dead resided here.

He had nothing to say. No explanation, except the obvious stupid truth. No defense, for what was the point of defending? Her words were true, and somewhere deep inside he felt shattered, tired, heavy and broken, but it did not stir the surface of his thoughts. They remained like a pond on a breezeless day, unmoved. Do I think? Yes. But not in ways he could explain. How can one explain the certainty, the arrogance and confidence, which fueled some actions?

How can one make a marble statue apologize, or even find its tongue and speak?

Silence, that was all he said, lost beneath the surface of ice. He had no idea what to say. Couldn't process the statements. He knew. Cared. Would die for them if need be - though hopefully under more heroic circumstances. The one who would suffer the backlash of their politics was he; he'd be branded racist and shunned by the hippies. That was the way of things. Behead the snake and sew the body onto the new one and pray there won't be a revolution. "I care," he heard his distant voice say, found his guarded, stony eyes slipping back to her. "But what the hell do you want me to say about it? I can't turn back time, Kou." I touched him and I lived.

It wasn't at all what he had planned to say.
But it was what came out of his mouth.

K O U
Softly she comes
Whispers the breeze with her passing
In secret love she is laughing

Mauja did nothing to sooth the anger that Kou was feeling. He claimed to care, but the mare had a hard time believing that he really did. He was an expert at lying and had a poker face that no one could match. How could she really know that he was telling the truth? The sarcastic questions he asked only made the mare seethe, but her retorts were cut short as d'Artagnan strolled onto the scene and suggested that the king give her an apology.

"It seems we've traded places, doctor." The mare said humorlessly. Usually she was the one speaking calming and dousing fires that the doctor started. Now he was taking her place. It felt strange being on the other end. She didn't like it, but she wasn't going to just back down.

d'Artagnan was right when he explained her reasons for being angry and hurt to Mauja. She cared for the king even though she thought he was a complete idiot now. She considered him a friend, still wanted him to be a friend, but was unsure of what he would think of her after their argument. With those words spoken by d'Artagnan the mare deflated and heaved a weary sigh, but remained silent.

Coal-tipped ears flicked back, listening to noises behind him even before his mind began to process them. Heavy footsteps, familiar in their pattern, the rustle of branches being brushed aside by a deep red body emerging - he knew those sounds, knew them and did not know whether he welcomed them or not. d'Artagnan, trusted friend and Doctor - so why did he want to run away, flee from this, run headfirst into a tree and faint? The gruff voice bore a wisdom he couldn't deny, yet it left little impression upon his face of ice. "Apologizing won't-" he began tersely, before cutting himself off. Apologizing won't turn back time. Okay, so maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about all of this. About perfection and imperfection, mistakes and glories. About who he was, and why he was, and what he wanted to be and why he should or shouldn't be that.

In the past, mistakes had been.. uncomfortable. Shortcomings, exploited and pressed, like bruises never left alone. His ears fell back in an astounding show of emotion for the moment, though his gaze remained veiled, his mind trying to break free from the ice and spin unhindered. Mistakes had always meant a failure. It had always instilled the desire to turn back time and make them undone.

Touching Deimos couldn't come undone. Upsetting Kou couldn't, either. Yet it was his instinctual reaction - to wish for time to turn back, so he never would've done anything of it. Walk the road of perfection, never erring, at least not so majorly as to suffer consequences as these. Yet they said you should learn from your mistakes. It was true that he'd always striven to never make the same mistake twice, but at the same time, he'd never been asked - or taught - to apologize for a mistake. You owed up to them. Apologizing was like asking for forgiveness where none would be given. You were just expected to deal with the shit and move on and don't do it again, but never forget that you had done it.

So, obviously, the lesson learned was: don't touch Deimos when Kou is around. But there was more to it... So, he'd worried Kou with it. And his callousness had just upset her. That, though, was an integral part of him, and hard to get rid of. It was damnably useful from time to time, too.

His thoughts spun too fast. His eyes closed. He did not have time for all these thoughts. No time to pick them apart and analyze them. He just knew what he thought he'd known, and what he obviously didn't know.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words foreign on his tongue. Not the first time he apologized, no, for he played a game of social courtesy and niceties most of the time - but, perhaps, the first time he said it without truly understanding, not grasping everything which floated through his head. "I didn't mean to upset you." That much, at least, was true. Slowly he opened his eyes again, something faraway in them; briefly he looked at Kou, then out into the forest again.

Nothing at all made sense.