but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

[ - takes it all - ]

Silence.

Mauja's heart beat painfully in his chest, remembering things it shouldn't—not here, not now, things he did not need to think of... But Tembovu offered no distraction; perhaps he was wrestling with his own demons, leaving his friend to roll in memories both old and new.

He knew what fire could do to you. He knew what fire could do to your life, and the tingling left behind by the Moon's healing magic spoke only of its mildest consequence; pain. And courtesy of some brat on a battlefield where he had had no place, Mauja was all too familiar with that consequence. He had felt it far more intimately than he had ever dreamed of, and it would always haunt him.

But fire was a killer—its utmost consequence was death.

One way or another, it would kill, over and over again. Slowly, calmly, Mauja let his gaze drift from Tembovu's troubled face and out over the star-lit waves again. An errant flame had caused one death, but it could've done so much more—if Mauja had come to the trial when the death of Torasin was still fresh in their minds.. would they have condemned him to death? Would they have succeeded in taking his life? Would he have fought, laid into those around him, managed to take one or two down with him?

He sighed, softly, and shifted upon the limestone brink. A little dust came loose, drifting slowly down to the sea. It felt unfair, that he stood here and thought of Torasin (of his own pounding, cruel fear—) when Tembovu stood next to him, still in the throes of the cruel fire. But with the silence stretching between them, how could he not think of the polite golden man..?

But finally, the Elephant King spoke, his voice a low rumble causing Mauja's ears to flick in his direction, though his gaze remained out at sea. Sorry. Tembovu was sorry for what he had done, and Mauja heard the words echoed in his head—Torasin's leg extended in his direction, a spire of ice silencing his heart as his mouth gave his last words, I'm sorry, before the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile.

Mauja had whispered the same thing into his dead ears.

He stifled a bitter laugh. At least he was still alive to hear Tembovu apologize to him. It seemed cruel—that he would survive the same encounter someone else didn't against him. That he would have to go on, with his memories burdening him.

You chose this, he reminded himself, tail flicking about his hocks as he listened to the weight of Tembovu's breath, hearing words yearning to get out—so he waited, the image of patience carved out of blocks of ice, just smoother around the edges.

“I’m glad the goddess fully healed you.” Was he attempting to change the subject? Or did he truly feel done talking about the incident? Or was he simply frustrated by how inadequate words were in the situation? Slowly, Mauja tore his eyes from the sea, and, pointedly, let them fall to Tembovu's burnt and scabbed knees. The brine took the edge off their smell, but if no one did anything about it soon, Mauja had a feeling it would fester. They were too.. open, too damaged, flesh seared off and hadn't he gone down on his knees at some point? Hadn't he lain down beside Mauja? Grinding the sloughed-off skin into moist earth, embedding soil in the wounds—

"Did you even take a bath after it?" he asked, before realizing how out of place the comment was. Out of context like that, it almost sounded like a wash-your-hands-clean thing, except, why would he even bother trying with that? He'd been found on the scene... Mauja snorted, a smoky exhale from dark nostrils. "Since you got dirt in your knees, I mean."

With another flick of his ivory tail he let his eyes return to the waters. Each wave-crest was topped with white seafoam illuminated by moon and stars, a glowing blanket for the ocean to wrap itself up in on cold nights; a lonely gull flew above it, night-hunting perhaps, silent but gleaming in the light. It was beautiful, and his eyes followed it with mellow hunger—while his heart burned fiercely with envy.

Part of him wanted to remain silent, to just keep staring at the gull gliding slowly above the water's surface, looking for the glimmer of fish scales perhaps, but.. just because he had his mind spinning with futures and pasts and disappointment and wonder and awe.. Tembovu had come here, to apologize. What for? Mauja had asked, because if anyone should be apologizing, it was him—for the stupidity of sparking more fires in a soul already ravaged by flame. But how do you explain something like that? How do you tell someone, so obviously burdened by what they had done, that you don't care? That it's fine they almost incinerated you on the spot?

Maybe you did just that—just said it.

"Look," he said, softly, after an interval of silence, still staring out over the sea, his mind elsewhere; gone, in winding hallways of unending futures and opportunities (en eternity land-bound). "Once, the roles were reversed. I..." He guessed the only real difference was that Mauja hadn't burned Tembovu, whereas Kiba had actually torched his shoulder, but the threat of fire is real enough to the one who has been burned. He sighed. "It's a knee-jerk reaction, right? It's not like you stood there and thought 'oh look, there's Mauja, let's set him on fire for fun!', right?" Right? "Shit happens, I understand, it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Idly, he wondered how normal it was on a scale 1 to 10 to be so casual about one of your best friends setting you on fire, but then again... How normal was Mauja, on a scale 1 to 10?

Mauja

the white queen