Eerily quiet, yes - the birds had quieted their songs, smothered their signs of life, as if in fear, as if a giant dragon had flown through the sky and cast its shadow across the land. The forest watched, but was watched in return, too. Mauja had no misconceptions about many eyes, both seen and unseen, sticking onto his back as he confidently swept through the healing trees, a chain of cool electricity looped around his neck, an egg resting against his chest. No mist swirled to mark his passage as it did in his home, but he did not need its added effect to appear ethereal: graceful, floating. Frost-covered hooves lifted off the ground, slipped across its browning surface, settled down again, a soft, thudding whisper and a shallow indent marking the king's passage. Today, late autumn light fell across the threshold forest, creating a dappled pattern of shadows. There was little heat in the pale sunbeams, only the cool clarity of the colder seasons, and thus the King felt no need to hide in the shadows. Instead, he moved in the open, sunlight glittering on his spiraled horn.

In many ways, it was correct that the newcomer felt observed - the forest always watched, but a set of mortal eyes happened to do it now, too. Cold and steadfast, blinking solemnly, Mauja halted a few feet away, skull tilted to the side. It was not every day that his wandering feet gave him results, but today seemed to be such a day. An ashen shade of gray, the stallion was tall, regal, slimmer than Mauja. A few streaks of red accentuated the gray, such an odd reminder of Ophelia that it made his mouth quirk. Bittersweet memories.

The thing which kept him there, instead of allowing him to sweep on, was the horn. Red and regal it jutted from his forehead, a display of his heritage, and Mauja always sought bodies to strengthen his herd. And in these bitter times of need, with winter around the corner, he would hardly deny anyone of pure blood. And so the King slipped a graceful smile onto his face and moved forth again, to where he was more easily seen.

"Welcome to Helovia, stranger," his clear voice called out, easily cutting through the autumn air. Sparse warmth played over his features, in the depths of his icy eyes, nestling itself around his voice. "Do you seek a home?"

( Woah, sorry. xD This post was pretty awful! :/ )

Was he afraid of the light? It could not hurt him, surely not on such a crisp, fine day as this. Perhaps it was just a preference, to not have it in his eyes. Curiously the King watched the gray stallion as he drew closer, but not out of the shadows. The small red heart on his haunch was a sweet adornment, and his features pulled into a wry, lopsided grin at the sight of it. Did it mirror his personality, perhaps? Was the red a sign that he was related to Ophelia, and her hoard of siblings? No- probably not. He had none of the dun markings or fringes. It seemed to just be a coincidence to burden his already troubled mind further. Mauja stifled a sigh, coal-rimmed ears sweeping forward, alert, at the sound of the stallion's voice. To the point, sweeping away the silence left in the wake of the King's own speech, the words tumbled out. That he desired one was good, question was if he'd like the sound of the Edge or not.

"I am Mauja," he said first, pausing slightly before going on. "Of the World's Edge." It was usual for him to omit his title, to let the strangers judge him for the spotted face he presented and not the title he bore. He preferred being called by his name; after all, he'd been named Mauja and not King. "And what is your name, brother? Are there any other questions you wish to ask of me?" Pristine white head flecked with obsidian titled to the side, something sharp and curious in his wintery eyes. He was not too picky with whom he brought home; those who didn't like the Edge left. Those who did stuck around. Some agreed with his values, his grand scheme for unicorn supremacy, some did not. Some stayed anyway. Some didn't know - and for those he assumed would disapprove of his course, he made sure not to tell them.

Who was this stallion? Which way did he want to walk? Questions without answers unless Mauja asked them out loud, yet it was a touchy subject, and one he seldom posed as a direct question. Better let time tell, and actions speak for themselves.

( Thank you. <3 )

The response was certainly not the one he had been expecting. Blinking, one 'brow shot up in a cool, question arch. The stranger drew into the light, and it shimmered softly on the fine shapes, as if metallic in hue. That in itself was perhaps not so strange, but what followed was. Without words, the stallion lowered himself into an elegant bow, and Mauja was forced to watch in bemused, worried silence. Why on earth was he bowing? Did he somehow know the name Mauja, or the description of a frozen, marbled king? Another unicorn had come through the Edge, spouting tales - rumors - of his Plague. And this one bowed to him all of a sudden. Flickering his tail idly against his hocks, Mauja waited for him to rise up again. When he did, it was with a direct gaze. Unfazed, Mauja held it, capturing those red eyes in the net of his ice blue ones.

“You, the great King of Edge.” He strangled the urge to snort. Great King? What lies had this one been listening to? Mauja had done little worthy of being entitled Great, bar dance a dangerous game and avoiding war. His cleansing work was going slow, he had no grand empire to speak of. He ruled by a divine grant, and held his crown with wit and keen senses. What made him greater than anyone else? Kri had fought hoof and tooth for her land - surely she was more worthy of being called Great than he.

Raithe? The name was vaguely familiar - likely one who had come and gone, or only passed through Helovia. So many creatures crossed his path nearly ever day, he'd go insane if he kept track of them all. "So my renown is spreading..." he said with a lopsided grin. For better or for worse, he was getting known out in the wide world. Valentine he called himself, adding a your highness to it. Again, Mauja fought the urge to snort or roll his eyes. Titles. Bah. They were not for him, but it felt a bit disrespectful to tell them to not say it. Generally, they thought that they were being respectful, and correcting them seemed a tad rude.

"Everything?" he said with a small, nearly unreadable smile. His eyes showed little, merely a teasing warmth, but nothing at all of how the thoughts spun beneath his alabaster hide. Mauja would not tell a strange everything. Strangers could be spies. "The best way to know, is to experience - to see, and learn. We're a herd of unicorns, trying to convince the others not to wage war upon us for our .. racial seclusion." With a motion of his head, Mauja had invited him to walk. Out of respect for Valentine's wishes he kept to the shadier parts, crossing only into sunlight when their path needed it. "Be respectful, and you will be given respect in turn - by most, at least." He couldn't imagine Alan being respectful to anyone, not really.