Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

Despite the annoying sensation coursing through his body each time he came close to Lotus, it seemed that his words did the trick. Tension bled out of the meeting - tension that had risen when he'd shown up - but Mauja was not fool enough to relax completely and believe the danger past. While he chose to believe that Ulrik had no desire to lead, he wasn't so sure about the others. Ulrik was an honest stallion, something the FrostHeart appreciated, but the rest? d'Artagnan was someone he thought he could trust, but Lotus and Seiren were as unknown to him as most mares were. He never knew what to expect of them, and never truly understood the workings of their brains. Once more he tore his eyes off her brown body and forced his eyes onto Ulrik, holding him steadily with his gaze. A faint smile curved the King's lips, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment of his words. It pleased him to know that the Engineer was on his side - for now. Who knew when Mauja might misstep in his eyes again?

Curious, his eyes drifted to Lotus as she eagerly asked her question - question he still could not answer. He wanted to bite his teeth together, sigh, shake his head, eat up all his words, but Ulrik cut to it, though ending it with an open question. Perhaps not one he expected to be answered, but still... And that was when Cineviam spoke up. Mauja's pale head rotated around and he peered at the forever ash-stained stallion, one 'brow raised. When the draft had wandered out of Helovia, the King hadn't expected him back. Now he was, though, and unless his ideals had changed, he was still welcome within the Edge. Mauja gave him a curt nod and greeting, "Welcome back,", before turning his attention back to Lotus and Ulrik. The Engineer seemed to just want to wave a hoof and let the Gods have their war... but Mauja feared the outcome of it, both with and without their intervention. For once he didn't resist when his gaze slid back to Lotus.

"Indeed they are strong and we are but mere mortals," he said slowly. "But this is not a war among gods, at least I do not think so. Even if he is warring against his brother Earth, we've been caught in the crossfire, and I don't like it." His forest was drying up, growing stunted and sad as skeletal branches twisted towards the sky, crying out in silent voices and shaking as the winds blew the last leaves from them. The world was dying. "There's no harm in killing his followers, and if we're lucky, it weakens him. He's already pissed off that his Order died, and he's got no qualms in taking it out on everyone. Doing something is better than just waiting." It was an open invitation of sorts, and with a silent sigh Mauja hitched his head higher, horn pointing towards the sky. Up there, somewhere, lurked the Goddess of the Moon, and she was their salvation - if only she'd tell them what to do... He put his frustration away, thrust it into the corners of his heart, and looked around the gathering, gaze sweeping over them. Each and every one of them was a warrior of the Moon in a sense, and perhaps it was time that she took command of the army that roamed Helovia.