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

He'd wandered his skeletal forest of drying trees to the Edge where the mists no longer poured into the ocean - a statue of despair and silent contemplation, a slowly melting creature sculpted out of ice and snow. He sighed, once more trying to suppress the feeling of hopelessness that roiled within his heart and weighed heavy upon his crowned head. Listlessly his pale eyes glared at the horizon, and likely he would've stood there until moonrise hadn't a stray gust of wind brought with it the scent of smoke, ash, charred wood. Like a cold finger trailing his spine, Mauja shivered once and then froze - eyes glued to the horizon, breath stuck in his throat. "No..." came the choked whisper, the taste of sulfur in his mouth; heart hammering, the King spun, distress written plain upon his face. Black towers of smoke stretched up towards the relentless, unforgiving sun, mocking him and his Moon; the dried trees were like kindling, breaking, catching fire, screaming out their pain as the orange flames hungrily licked up their trunks.

"No... Nononononono NO!"

It was so much more than watching your kingdom crumble. It was called fear and it tasted bitter, it was adrenaline in the veins, the twitches in your nerves, it was like flinching at every shadow and barely being able to breathe. The one thing Mauja feared above all else was fire, and only the sheer drop at his back kept him from backing. One step was all it took and there'd be nothing to stand upon; he swallowed the lump in his throat, closed his eyes for a second. Hellena's and Korra's despaired shrieks came to his ears, and for a brief moment, the FrostHeart wanted to fall asleep and never wake up to the fiery nightmare. Of course, he couldn't - he had a duty given by his Moon, and it was to protect his people. He didn't protect them by stand at the Edge and quiver with fear. He protected no one that way.

Step by step the pale King drifted closer, into the smoke-filled trees were a few stubborn cervidae were fleeing what little grazing had been left; they fled and his heart wanted to flee with them. Step by step he sped up, until he was cantering madly through the trees, sweat lacing his sides and orange fear dancing in the whites of his eyes; what mattered was not how it pounded in his chest, but what mattered was that he was there, despite the fear. As a thing of winter he'd always feared flame and heat the most, and now it was more evident than ever. Mauja let his eyes close briefly, knowing the roots, then opened them again. The Sun is all his assholery glory stood there in his forest as if he owned the god damn place, spreading his ugly wings and fanning the flames. Korra lay tangled with Aurelius on the ground, and a fierce whinny erupted from Mauja's throat. Fear still fluttered in his frosty heart, and water dripped from the tip of his horn down on his nose, but he could not run. Would not. He'd stand his ground. He issued another challenge to the God, pawing at the Earth, and listened to Aurelius demands of explanation.

"He's upset because a bunch of Pegasus kicked his Order in the ass," Mauja spat, standing on the other side of the blazing God from the rest of his herd. He was sweating, nearly blinded by his proximity to the bright flames. No amount of ice spikes could wall off the forest from the flames. He couldn't save it. He could only spit in the God's face and refuse to back down or relocate. Mauja would see his forest regrow. He couldn't see who else had gathered here, the smoke and the fire played too many tricks on his running eyes, but he would protect them, every single one of them, to the best of his extent. He ground his teeth together, pawing once more at the dust-like dirt, issuing another silent challenge. Let me burn and leave my land be.

Stand with me, brothers and sisters. We are of the Moon. Stand with me, and let us drive him from our home.