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

He wasn't going to answer. He just looked at them coldly, and from the corner of his smoke-red eyes Mauja saw Mirage, of all mares, and an entourage come in as if they owned the place. Already being pushed over the edge, he felt nothing but annoyance at them showing up, speaking their high and mighty words, pleading with them to calm down when their home was burning and pain was ringing in their hearts and souls and bodies and flames licked up around them, scorching hair and blistering skin... The King coughed, ignored them, stared at the God... and snorted, tossed his head up, wild eyes rolling, backed up a couple of steps, when the sudden pillar of fire tore through the clearing and the sky. He barely managed to stifle the shrill screech forming in his lungs, but he trembled, and the flames continued to rise. His heart was hammering too hard, too fast, it felt like it would burst from his chest and run out his throat and gallop away into the night and leave him a bloody wreck, but a dragon rose from the fire and with the arrogant carelessness of gods it flicked his Seer into a tree.

Hellena was an aging mare with a fragile-looking body; she was thin, harmless, mysterious, wise, and as if she was nothing but a doll, a broken plaything, her body spun through the air, reflecting fire upon her pale hide. She crashed into the hot, charred stumps, slid without moving to the ground, and even as hail began to fall the flames licked closer to her fallen form. "HELLENA!" he screeched, voice raw and ragged, genuine worry outshining the brittle edge of fear. Flame leaped out to engulf the knocked-over Korra, flame leaped out at all of them, but Mauja barely felt the stinging pain anymore. Too many emotions were rolling through him, and in a desperate attempt to protect the defenseless Seer he tore ice from the ground, broad but relatively thin spikes rising up to form a wall around her. They wouldn't last forever but the dragon-thing had pulled back, the hammering hail lessening to gentle, soothing rain, and some of the panic pulled back from his mind. Fire, he thought with loathing. Fire always undid him. Fire always sent fear coursing through his body, and panic, it made him irrational, and the bright flames always magnified themselves in his head. Fire, he thought again, and shuddered.

Things had to be dealt with. Wounded tended to. Unwanted equines driven out.

The FrostHeart King pulled in a shuddering breath that reeked of burnt hair and damp firewood, and cautiously stepped into the scorched heart where the fire pillar had thundered into the sky. Adrenaline was slowly bleeding out of his system, leaving him feeling weak and lethargic and the pain from his various burns came in like a deep, throbbing flood, but he forced it aside; with the same grinding, unpleasant noise did the half-melted ice fall back into the ground, making the fallen Seer accessible. "d'Art, Kou," he barked, then coughed. The smoke had made his lungs and throat raw, and he felt like eating a glacier to soothe it. "Tend to the wounded, round up what help you can." A brief glance around told of many minor burns, but those worst off were unconscious Hellena, Korra - passionate, stupid Korra - and Seiren, who had tried to hail on them all. Beyond the smoking portion he guessed his forest was relatively untouched, but it still hurt to see it. It hurt and he cried and blamed it on the smoke.

And now, to deal with the equines... Mauja wouldn't have minded having Aurelius or d'Artagnan beside him, but the short stallion had likely been caught in the flames around Korra and the Sun, and d'Artagnan had a far more important purpose right now. Weary and wanting few things besides to run a spike to the mouthy mare who had spoken second he hoofed it over to them, pleased with the pointless fact that he was taller than all of them. Water dripped from the point of his horn, the bone white revealed when the protective layer of blue frost was melted. He felt naked without it.

"Mirage," he greeted her, giving the two bodyguards and the mouthy one a brief look. Get out get out get out. "As you can see, the Sun decided to pick on his sister's lands - you chose a bad time to visit. What brings you here?" It lacked the usual grace, it was tired, tired, and he didn't want to talk to her at all, but he had to, so he did, and he pretended that it was okay, masked his irritation with shadows of his wry humor. Mauja wanted to bury himself somewhere in the cold snow, but there were only embers here, and embers weren't cold; he watched the equines with tired, sad eyes, hoping they had no business here except checking in to witness the Sun's capacity for themselves.