He had a fair guess as to what she sought in the mist, a dark, blue-edged shape that often was not far - a necromancer in its own right, draining the life from the world around them. How he survived without killing off the entire forest remained a mystery to Mauja, who offered Ophelia soft smile as if to say, he is not here, don't worry. He caught no whiff of Deimos himself, though a monster of another sort was likely not far. It seemed that the only times his black pet left his side was when he played with Snö - it suited the King just fine, for she needed a protector after the incident with the Throat. Although, it seemed to him that she was not as easily able to brush the past off as he, bitterness tinging her smirk while only warm curiosity colored his. He could hardly blame it on near-death experiences, for after all, he had had one, too. Curiously he flipped his ears forward when she spoke, and he refrained from pointing out that she'd been a bit further in. Like she said - she had not come here to argue that, so he'd let it rest. He knew the truth, and that was good enough for him. As her words flowed out his head tilted to the side, wondering where this would go. At the mention of her sister, Ktulu, Mauja grimaced slightly. Protective, hell yeah. He'd never argue with Ophelia on that point, at least. "Apology accepted," he told her with the hint of a smile, wondering what else he could say to such a thing. No you trespassed once I'll hate you forever! was far too counterproductive, and d'Artagnan for example had been contemplating the deaths of others all the way at the Edge when Mauja had found him. He'd certainly been forgiven that trespass since.

What was more of a surprise, however, was her desire to find common ground with him. Why on earth? Simply because she'd enjoy his company? He wasn't quite sure. Or did she want something from him, snake into his good graces and learn information about the Edge? She was of the Dragon's Throat, a mixed predominantly Pegasus herd, and if he'd caught Vadim's drift properly she might even be a mixblood. What on earth could she possibly want with him? But he was not one to deny such a chance, to know more, though he would certainly do his best not to slip something valuable to her (or maybe he would, just to see what happened - where it would end up). Curiously he raised a 'brow at her comment, the way her body swayed, as if to leave, walk away the way she'd come. "And how do you propose to find that common ground, if you walk away from me?" he asked with amusement in his voice, not moving from where he stood rooted upon the border. And somehow it amazed him that she, too, longed for Frostfall: white she certainly was, but that was no guarantee to enjoy the snowy season. A lot found beauty in it yet shivered in the cold, some relished it like the snowbeast himself, and some found it a long, burdensome wait until the days lengthened again and the winds blew warm. He would not have pegged her for a thing of winter, but perhaps she was, a fleet-footed wraith with bloodied fringes, the only thing to give her away at a distance. Once the idea had taken root, he could easily picture her dancing across the crust, weightless as a feather blown by the bitter wind, yet steadfast as the mountains themselves in a blizzard - but as he tried to picture Ktulu, he just came up with the image of her dark shape belly-deep in snow, gracelessly sloughing through it in an attempt to get... somewhere. Faintly amused, he snorted.

The vision said quite much on differently he valued the twins.

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