The latter, he thought—it was a long time since he'd been anything at all. He was hardly more tangible and corporeal than a ghost, drifting about Helovia and remembering what he had been like in life.
But he didn't get to find out, because he didn't walk to the ends of the earth. As the dark stranger came closer and closer Mauja's movements stalled, ceased, until he stood where the sky met the sea like some kind of monument of forgotten, glorious times. Tarnished and lackluster. The ocean kissed his frozen feet; perhaps it would have mercy on him and freeze him to its pull, chain him and drag him down.
In a shower of sand the stranger halted, sunshine arcing along the slick, black skin; water and sweat mingled in her scent, with something colder lurking beneath. A faint, brief spark of interest flashed in his eyes before fading. Someone from the Basin? Perhaps. Black, black and blue. No one he knew, but she seemed curious enough about him, looking him over as thoroughly as Aurelia had that day back in the Deep Forest. He stood still, allowed her scrutiny—let her see the broken remains. An aura of shattered glory and exhaustion clung to him, fouling the pristine white to something off-white, dirty, old dried sweat curling his coat.
"Hello," she said, those blue eyes as devoid of emotion as Mauja's. Two statues facing one another upon that beach.
"Hi," he simply responded, the word barely more than a deep sigh.