i am the vanguard of your destruction

Something had to be said for work: it took your mind off things. It filled the black, empty spaces in you up with something else—purpose—and even if it was a hollow comfort, it was better than the bone-deep, harrowing despair. It could so easily be taken away—all he needed was to lose his crown, and he'd be back where he'd come from.. a stray with a listless, restless heart, a spark with no fuel, a sword with no wielder.

But he forgot about all those things when he had something to do, something tangible, something worthwhile, something so achingly familiar—go to the Threshold. Pick up lost souls. Slowly rebuild from the ashes of your herd. Strengthen the bonds, strengthen the numbers, strengthen the souls and become what they had been before: a sort of unruly, deviant family. There had been strength there. There had been loyalty—

—his thankless mind flashes him snatches of conversations with Tolio, the man who had worshiped him, and how he lay dead and freezing in the ice corridors of the north—

—and some kind of desire to stay together—to fight for their home when the Dragonwhore came with her army. They had tried. They had tried so desperately but in the end, they had lost. But something, and not Mauja because Mauja had found himself spiraled away through time and space, had held them together, and they had found the Basin and that asshole God, and.. things had gone better for them, he figured. He had left them to roam, but they still held their home.

The ground began to gently slope upwards, tall and thick trees slowly conquering the horizon as the brittle and dying grasses of the Meadow gave way to bushes and the shorter grazing of a forest.

World's Edge.

A sight for sore eyes—a sight so achingly familiar, but a love he couldn't quite accept. Things were so different, and he was afraid of loving what had been and failing to understand that this wasn't a repetition of his past, but something new, the present, here and now, and things were different because even if it was a unicorn he led home.. the next time, it could be someone without a horn.

It chilled his soul. Change was terrifying, but change was life.

"Home," he said quietly to Tembovu, breaking the travel silence as he made his way down a worn path with ease. The day's thinner fog was thickening now that the sun was sinking towards a blood red horizon beyond the trees—too distant to be seen as more than a fiery orange blur above the barren crowns—and taking the warmth with it to its watery grave. Mauja's eyes flashed to his new-found brother for a moment, before—before that thing always happened. The translucent shimmer in the distance became close, and real, two owls flying overhead as he drew up next to the remnants of something sharp, something shattered and broken, tumbled to the ground and spread out, crumbled and crushed like so much else.

The ruins of the glass wall. Rain had whipped it and magic had sundered it, but it still ran like a fracture across the border. "This.. mess is our doorstep—a remnant of someone else's hypocrisy and narrow-minded ways. Be careful, though. Rain isn't strong enough to blunt its edges." Where they stood it lay in ruins, sprawling in the autumn grass but also remaining standing in large stretches, sharp-edged holes blown in it at intervals, easily allowing a horse to step over its broken foundation. And that was what Mauja did, leaving a few tail hairs snagged in some crack, before stopping and turning to watch Tembovu, hopefully, follow suit. The gap was more than wide enough to accommodate the thick stallion.

To think that Kahlua built this...

"You said you would welcome work. In what field?" Maybe it seemed abrupt—blunt, even, but there was kindness and curiosity in his tone, in his eyes, in his posture—proud head tall but tilted, black-rimmed ears swept eagerly forward. His gaze flickered down Tembovu's body, then back up again. Mauja would not make assumptions about anyone. ".. after all, a man's future need not be dictated by his scars."

[ welcoming for @[Tembovu], anyone welcome! ^^ ]

i am the vanguard of your destruction

"Aye," he responded with the flick of one ear, head turning slightly away as pale blue eyes peered out over the jagged glass horizon. "We mean to.. take it down." It was a hesitant confession, because—because, well.. it was a wall, but one they did not mean to repair. It was a stupid remnant of a stupid defense, but Tembovu had the looks of a soldier—and he knew what another soldier, uneducated about the past of this particular wall, had thought about tearing down such a monument.

But Mauja had explained and Torleik had seen reason, and they had agreed on another defense, and—and maybe, hopefully, Tembovu would see the truth of the darker side of the wall.. aside from giving you a hair trim upon passing.

It divided hearts, as well as armies.

And Mauja wouldn't stand for that.

If the stallion would inquire, he would answer; but if not, he would let the subject lie. The wall was a depressing thing, like static on the radio—something that cropped up each time he came or left home, but something that didn't add up with what his heart told him ought to be there. He wasn't sure if he should appreciate it or not, that.. wake-up call, that things had changed.

"Mmh," he hummed in quiet agreement, listening to the stranger speak. Either the long walk had made him hoard his words, or it had eased his mind, because while he hadn't exactly been short-spoken in the Threshold, this was practically a flood tumbling out of the burly man's mouth. At the mention of politics, Mauja snorted. Part of him wanted to thrust Tembovu into a political position, such as an emissary of sorts, just to see what it was like from the outside—to see a warrior carrying a white flag and trying to juggle the slippery minds of the other nations.

But then again—why put someone else through his own misfortune? He'd picked this path himself, no need to thrust someone else down it just because they happened to pique his curiosity and whet the appetite of his laid-back sadism.

"Oh?" he finally said, raising a 'brow and peering at the silvered stallion. Now that was flattering, that someone saw his scars and his muscle and instead of thinking oh shit what a loser, actually thought they meant something other than an incredibly unhealthy lifestyle. Or it wasn't a compliment, but a suggestion Mauja act his punching bag. And if so.. well, maybe he was in for a surprise.

But first, questions, questions that needed answers.

And I'm not going to tell you my rank, sorry.

"Don't walk off the edge? It's kinda a one-way ticket to the ocean floor." Humor laced his smirk as he turned his back on the wall and began to move deeper into the autumn forest; winter's chill upon the biting wind, but the first snowfall had not yet come. "Torleik is King here, and for the time being, our laws are sparse—something along the effects of 'use common sense and don't do stupid shit'. The glorious Lady Moon has three brothers—Earth, who is patron of the Hidden Falls, ruled by Kaj and what's-his-face—Archibald. They're the herd that left the Edge. Earth is.. pretty cool. Sun is patron of the Dragon's Throat, and it's full of sand and morons and fire. He's, uhm.. pretty hot-headed. And then there's Spark, or Time, up in the Aurora Basin. He's a right git." And I have a personal grudge. "Beware of the Lord of the Basin, Deimos. He kinda sucks your soul out of your body if you stand too close."

He sighed, pausing to rub his shoulder against a tree. "The gods are dangerous, but they also act .. childishly from time to time, making it easy to become infuriated with them," he said quietly. "The less you interact with them, the better, I'd say. Good things rarely come of it."

[ Sorry for the wait, tagging @[Leeka] as well as @[Tembovu]! ]

i am the vanguard of your destruction

There was a span of silence that seemed out of place. Not wrong or uncomfortable, just.. out of place. His ears strained to catch what he had expected to hear (though what that was nobody knew), only to find.. nothing. It even had his head turning, the faintest hint of concern beginning to overtake the curiosity, but as he laid eyes on the other the miniscule pause ended. “Then I’ll avoid them as best as I can,” he was saying, with a slight smile beginning to curve his dark lips. Maybe it was cruel of him to denounce the Gods so openly in front of a newcomer, but he figured it was better to bash whatever hopes he had had in them quickly, before he learned the bitter taste of disappointment.

After all, Mauja had been devout when he first came here—struck by the elegance and deadly beauty of the Lady Moon. He had dedicated his words to her, he had declared them a herd of Moon-followers, he had even worn her pale light like a shadow across his eyes during the night, the feathers of her ravens woven into his tail—but it had all been for naught. He couldn't fault her for choosing d'Artagnan over him. He couldn't fault her for accepting Mirage's scum.

But he could fault her for her lackadaisical treatment of her own son, Mesec. He could fault her for lies, the deceit, the violence she had played out on Helovia's inhabitants.

(And he could love her for the blessing rains after the Sun's scorching flames, and for all that she had done while leaving their world in darkness.)

But the good did not outweigh the bad.

So he walked deeper into their home, Tembovu chattering happily in his wake, or by his side, wherever the silver giant chose to walk, one ear on the surroundings, one ear on his new brother. "Perhaps," he agreed quietly, something in his flurry of thoughts about the Moon having dampened his spirits, or at least his voice—his blue gaze slid sideways, onto the other stallion. "We've both got scars enough to turn each other white with fright of our stories." Despite the rather solemn tone of his voice something flashed in his eyes—the least he could do to try and reassure the other he hadn't spontaneously died within (which, to be fair, he had, but he was working on getting his spark back to life).

He wasn't sure if it was cruel of him to keep his rank so secret as he did—and after all, if no one knew him as their Queen, how would they know to follow him in battle? (but loyalty never comes of words, it comes of deeds and hearts). If he was worthy of following, they would follow regardless. Still, he preferred to get to know another—get them to know him—without all the fuss of impressing and my lord-ing or my liege-ing, a lesson Aurelius had well and truly driven home many, many years ago.

Still, the runty little stallion had dared to gone swimming with a King.
(He had been a King in those days.)

"Once I've filled you in on all you need to know I'm done for the day," he said with a grin, as if he couldn't quite decide whether to play oblivious to Tembovu's fishing for his rank—because really, for some reason, he'd hate to say it. To.. spoil this easy-going thing by potentially turning Tembovu into a top-notch solider just saying aye, sir, of course, sir, sir, sir, sir, like fuck it man, prove it to me instead—prove that you have a heart.

It was a risk he was getting increasingly uncomfortable with taking, with anyone, so he dodged the subject as he led him deeper into the firs and the fog. "Right now, now-now?" He turned his white head to peer at the other. "Unless you feel like kicking the wall down for a few hours .. no. Well. I mean." He sighed. "Look, we're still sort of .. scatter-brained about what we're doing, here. 'I want to take the wall down'. Okay, he says. But we're gonna put up spikes instead. 'Sure', I say. But then there's no one to do it, because there's no one to step up and take the Moon's glass magic—so we can't really do anything about it, and that glass is magic-hardened, so for us to kick it down, even now when it's more fragile, is going to be a lot more demanding than a glass-smith just ..reversing the process.

"So if you know what you want to do, I could send you to the head of the class, if there exists one. There's always a need for warriors; we're pretty well-established in the area of healers, but if you feel that path calling to you, you can always train with them. I won't prevent anyone from nurturing whatever skill set they want. We have practically no religious zealots—" He glanced at Tembovu as if to say, I know I just said I don't like the gods but hey, I'm not alone on this ship, "—and I really don't know where our Seer, the direct link to our goddess, has gone to," owowowow because that was supposed to be Kahlua. "There's two paths of diplomacy: one that's up-front, one that's done behind the backs of others. And finally, that glass-smith we really could do with but." He shrugged. "There's nothing immediate, no, so if you want to think it over a while you're welcome to. Or if you already know what you wanna do, just let me know and I'll point you in a promising-looking direction." He shrugged again as he walked deeper. "Or there's that I-finish-answering-your-questions-and-we-fight thing, but maybe you'd rather rest after your travels before you start butting heads?"

A dark smile flashed in the deepening autumn darkness, the blue spark of his eyes lighting up again for a moment.

He couldn't quite recall the last time he'd rambled like this.

Idiot.

[ @[Tembovu], no worries xP this one won't shut up either. ]