War is the most vulgar madness....[mutter mutter]...and winters can be so cruel...[mutter mutter]

Myrddin had a habit of muttering to himself; after all the long years that he has spent in the world, that really isn't so surprising.

Head low, the old unicorn deliberately picked his way through the threshold, with all of the urgency of a turtle. He made little sound as he did so - not simply due to his unicorn blood, which kept his body lithe, and his hooves silent, but moreso due to the fact that his old body simply seemed too tired to bother rustling the branches or foliage as he walked on.

Coming upon a bit of a clearing, Myr paused and scented the wind. The breeze brought many a scent - mostly equine. He nodded at this observation, it made sense after all. This glade acted as a sort of natural funnel, and he supposed he was not the first outsider to wander into these parts. Sighing, Myr leaned his old bones against an equally old tree, to rest. Someone would come - they always did. Since the war, Myr had been on the move. He had lost everyone, and frankly, he was too old for this shit - too old to start over.

But what other choice did he have?

Myr's hearing wasn't quite what it used to be, and it was not until Mauja was almost completely in the clearing, that his hair-filled ears flickered, picking up the sound. Still, Myr did not stir. He swung his old head towards the sound, his gnarled horn reflecting the sunlight dully.

As his twilight-covered eyes took in the younger stallion, Myr's heart seemed to cramp within his breast. For a moment his lower lip trembled, as if he was about to speak, but did not. He blinked the sunlight out of his eyes several times, as if trying to see the stallion more clearly - and indeed he was, but it was not the light he was trying to rid from his sight, but instead a painful memory that this frosty stallion had conjured up. With a stubbornness that only comes with age, Myr resolutely shook his head, and pressed himself away from the tree, and turned to completely face Mauja.

Myr curled his nose in until it almost touched his chest, no small feat at his age; which caused a symphony of cracks and pops to ring out at his body protested. Regardless of the arthritic pain that he felt, Myr was not about to forgo proper manners. Naynay, that was not how he was raised. As he returned to a more natural stance, the old unicorn winked mischievously, "The day is what we make of it, eh youngster?". His voice sounded like worn sandpaper - or like one who had inhaled too much smoke, for far too long. Still, it hinted that there might be a bit more life in the old unicorn, than his tired body would suggest.

When the younger stallion asked if Myr was seeking a home, his gaze once again clouded over and he visibly stilled. A subconscious snarl momentarily crossed his lips, before quickly dissipating into a tired sigh. Myr nodded his head heavily, "I suppose I am, youngster, I suppose I am"

Myr snorted his approval as his greeting was returned. Good. he thought - good form was so hard to come by these days. Hadn't he gone to great lengths to impress proper values unto his kin? Had not many a summers afternoon been spent re-telling tales of chivalry and heroism to his grand-babbies? And though they were all gone now, his babbies and their babbies, all was not lost - for in a new land, had he not already met one who could not only have been his in appearance, but also in raising? 

But what was he to make of an offer of a home? Although he approved of the encounter thus far with this stallion, what was that to go on? And who was this stallion to be making such an offer? Anyone who knew who Myrddin was and his capacities had perished; his story and the legend of his life might as well be a fable, as no one who bore witness to his achievements was alive to tell of them. It must be that this fellow had the authority to recruit others - for why else would, and could such an offer be made?

Myr briefly considered asking for more details - where was this home located? Who was it comprised of? But really, with frost already lovingly encompassing the world, who was he to be choosy? At the end of the day, whatever the stallion had to say in defence of the home he offered, were just words. It could all be lies anyway, and although his intuition was that the frosty stallion would say true - would it matter if he did not? Nay, not really. Myrddin had learned that few things in this world were lasting, and words were usually not one of them.

Drawing himself up to his full height, joints creaking slightly as he did so, Myrddin strode forward towards Mauja, halting a few paces away. He looked solemnly into the stallions eyes, once again reminded of how much- How much he looks like my.... Myr dismissed the thought before it could take hold. His eyes twinkled mischievously, as if Mauja was a colt, and Myr was about to tell him a dirty joke, behind his parents back. "I'd have your name first" In Myr's time, a name was a link to your past, and was the one thing which could never change, regardless of what kind of past that was. Yes; he would take Mauja's name, and his offer, come what may, from both. 

A fierce light illuminated Myr's gaze as a proud smile broke out across his maw. "I am Myrddin, born of the demon Lailoken and the mare Phaedra.....The last of my name"A weary sadness once again entered his gaze, as his proud words turned sorrowful at the mention that his bloodline had ended. They had been brutally murdered not so long ago, that their mention still felt like a physical weight upon his shoulders. They were gone - and the old stallion was far too old to begin his blood lines anew. He spoke his bloodlines proudly however, even the mention of his demon father; that was a horror story which always put young colts in line, should they want to stray too far from the herd.

With a mischievous grin, he flicked his gnarled horn towards the frosty stallion, "Now. What say you escort this old codger back to where ever you call Home, and we'll see if ol' Myrddin can't find a way to repay you for your kindness." Winking, Myr shivered lightly. Was it the chill in the air suddenly re-energizing his limbs? Or perhaps it was the possibility of home, and all that entailed. Maybe, just maybe, when his old body finally gave away to death, he would be remembered after all.