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

Some of his most bizarre moments in life had taken place in the Threshold—and not just counting the rather large number of half-dead vagabonds stumbling in and having to be coaxed off the ground and more or less convinced not to give up on life. But things like vicious fighting, seduction, finding or losing pieces of his life, insults, licking Johnny's neck (—yes, that happened)... He wasn't sure this was classified as "bizarre", though. It was—uhm—just the regular 'are you even real?'. Possibly there was a smidge of the moony-eyed female, but he chose not to assume it—tried not to think of it, even. It would just make him uncomfortable, and the last thing he needed was to get all backwards and awkward when trying to recruit someone.

There could be a thousand different reasons for her soft gasp and slightly awed expression. (And it could also be the one thing casuing his heart to pick up its pace and bleed fear into his blood—)

But it didn't exactly get better when she proceeded to call him 'fascinating'. He didn't want to be fascinating! He wanted to be just like anybody else, just—not noteworthy. A nobody. Not a tall, graceful white spotted beast with too many titles, or whatever it was that made others react to him. He didn't want to stumble over a stranger and have them swoon for whatever reason, or like when Valentine had shown up years ago and claimed to have heard of him outside of Helovia, from some uncle.

But of course, that wasn't entirely true either.

Part of him still craved for influence, to once again be a force to be reckoned with. He just didn't want mares to find him fascinating in the process. Still, he had manners, he had composure, his face serene and pale eyes giving little away. "The pleasure is mine," he answered, voice soft, as his thick tail flicked once behind him. She introduced herself as Eliaren, but not of any particular place. Idly, he wondered if calling her 'Eli' would signify something, answer some question buried in her voice—something which he had no idea what it was, anyway.

And should he offer to let her call him 'Mau'? And come to think of it—did anyone use that nickname? Most had a tendency to call him by his whole name, if they mentioned him at all. A slight frown creased his face. "I have lived many years in Helovia," he answered, as if drifting in his thoughts, as his gaze traveled up her neck to her face again. He wasn't sure if it was just dust and mud, or if she actually was dappled. Swallowing his own hesitancy, he met her eyes. "Please disregard my shabby appearance. I've been on the road for a while."

It actually brought a small snort from him, dark nostrils widening as he turned to gesture with his head at the forest around them. "Don't worry about it. This place is known as Helovia's Threshold, and it is the path everyone takes to come here. You're not the worst off I've greeted among these trees." Looking back to her, he tilted his head. It was easier with someone he didn't know—he could just pretend. Smile. Hide it all beneath the ice. And then, if she chose to follow him home, he would simply leave her in the care of the herd, and disappear.

(That's what ghosts do.)

"But if it bothers you, I know a place where you can clean yourself up. There's a freshwater pond in a place known as the Secret Grove, at the foot of my homeland. We could go there if you like."

(Don't stop and consider the implications of what you just said, Mau. You'll just terrify yourself.)

[ @Eliaren ]

Mauja

the white queen