och jag växte upp snabbt, från min barndom var det allt—jag föddes redan slagen

då tänker du tyst och skriker högt, memorerar hela jävla monologen som skrevs för din inre röst,

"This land is beautiful." And he agreed—but for different reasons. Mauja had not come from a starscape of swirling galaxies and nebulosas; he came from a realm as mortal as this, but still, the Edge was beautiful to him. There was a sense of peace in the tall, sturdy trees, a mystique in the thick fog, and when the sun rose to set it all on fire ... or as now, when it sunk blood-red in the west, a brilliant glow still strong enough to shear through the fog. Come night all would be dark and sort of cold, hidden in the embrace of the white fog, but still light as starlight and moon rays struck the water droplets suspended in the air. The Edge did not have the vibrant splendor of the Hidden Falls, or the same cold, crisp beauty as the Aurora Basin, but it was still beautiful—when it wasn't just a drab, uniform gray mass of fog, that is.

So it wasn't until Katerina began to answer his question that he realized just how alien all of this was to her. Because if her world sounded alien to him, the opposite had to be true, right? And as she spoke his mind painted the images as best as it could, drawing inspiration from the Veins of the Gods and the northern lights in the Basin, stringing it together in something that probably did not at all resemble the truth but was spacey enough for him. At her mention of time, he chuckled, throwing her a glance from the corner of his eye. "No," he agreed amiably, wondering, in a less than serious fashion, if her age was the reason she was so silver.

And if they were all loyal and loving and caring ... it was probably a good thing she had been curious in the past. Mauja had been born in mental midwinter darkness and an age-old feud—the kind of war in which the flames ran dark blue and the forged steel was long since cold and heartless.

And the things he had gone on to do since ...

But she turned the question back on him, and much as he wanted to flee from the curious words launched into the foggy air between them he knew he had to answer; she had indulged him, he had to indulge her. "No," he began to say with a fog-breath sigh, a heaviness in his voice that hadn't been there before. But he got no further, because someone said his name, and true enough, there in a fog that deepened with the passing of the sun stood Tembovu, ever-vigilant. Mauja could still tell he had been a soldier before he'd turned crafter—it was something in the way he held himself, the way he saw the world... A kind of habit that would never die.

"I have," he managed to answer with a slight smile. Was Tembovu born a charmer—the total opposite of Mauja? Where the Glazier seemed to dole out compliments and flattery like light flirting Mauja shrunk away. He shook his head to himself, masking his unease with amusement. Ladykiller, that Glazier of his. "Katerina was just asking me of my home. Join us, won't you?" And with a simple beckoning motion with his head Mauja resumed his regal walk, leading both Glazier and newcomer deeper into the fog.

"I am not from Helovia—I come from a place far to the north. It is a beautiful place, but wild and cold. Snows and darkness reign for the better part of half a year, and the summers are short, and mild. Just as the sun never rises in the depths of winter, it never sets in summer. Mountains and valleys are abundant, and at the heart of the land lies the mountain known as the Heimasborg. For generations a war waged between my ancestors, who were renegade unicorns, and the local tribes of bears, but.. it recently ended," and I hope they haven't started fighting again in my absence.

The single war Mauja had won, and it had changed a nation. Now, he could only hope they were brave enough to see it through, until all of that which was new and frightening and difficult became normal, everyday.

Something sly came into his gaze as he looked to Tembovu. He had never asked the large stallion much of his past, out of respect for the scars littering his hide. But now.. "What of you, Tembovu? What was your birthland like?"

[ I'm not much better xD @Katerina @Tembovu ]