( others are welcome to join too, if they want to. ^^ )

More of him leaked over to that world, than that world leaked to his — Irma seemed to go thoughtful for a moment as her eyes switched depth, peered into something else, but she made no move, no sound, gave him no nudge. Oblivious, the King remained rooted where he was, for once devoid of much emotion. Secretly, he believed that Irma was perhaps leeching his feelings out of him, but where they went, he didn't know. Perhaps they dissipated in the aether, as she did not seem as chaotic of mind as he had been during her silence, and yet he couldn't deny that his troubles..troubled..him less often. Or perhaps he was just getting used to them? Too tired to scrounge up the emotions to care, and feel pitiful? Of course, he had not dreamed of — with? — Ophelia again, for when you wished to dream of something you seldom did. The storm which had raged inside of him had calmed after a few days, and the return of the bond had further soothed him.

Perhaps it was just Irma's natural inclination to not socialize with her kin which affected him, and made him more at ease in his solitude. For a moment he closed his eyes, before opening them again. It was true, that it was always easier when he walked these lands alone, and always harder when the faces he knew bore names and personalities he didn't. They kept mocking him with their presence, never allowing the wounds to heal. And in that sense, he'd left a trail of blood all over Helovia.

A cold wind stirred, the song of trees carried by it, as leaves rustled and wood groaned, crown rubbing against crown. It smelled of mold and age, secrets, and it tugged at his forelock. He watched that flicker of white at the edges of his vision, black-tipped ears swirling and twitching, listening to the sound of the breeze — and something within it whispered his name. Or was he just dreaming? Startled, he spun around; in her world his motions were jagged, his ethereal form shimmering and leaving traces where he moved. With a frown he surveyed the forest around and in front of him, that faraway voice whispering again, but too many words for him to catch them all. Widening his eyes the Frostheart tilted his head, blinking rapidly as he caught the shadow of a Pegasus at the edges of his vision. She was looking at him with.. concern? "What happened to you, Mauja?" In his chest, his heart hammered, quick and lithe. This had never happened before. Was it the other side calling? Or some other trick of the Gods? I know that voice, I know that face. Stark white set with blue eyes, chocolate and cream fighting across her short, sturdy body. The kind, gentle daughter of a royally bitchy mare.

"Onni," he whispered, like something echoing from a dream. Why was he seeing her? Was she here? He would've thought he was dreaming, or merely witnessing something, if she did not speak his name repeatedly. Had she died, or wandered lost someplace? "Why are you here?" he asked in a whisper, suddenly terrified — for her, of her, of the world and everything this meant or didn't mean. He couldn't take much more of it... Slowly he took a single step back, towards the Dragon's Blood, his head slipping higher as his 'brows came together in concern, his wide eyes strained and fearful, desperate. The branches above rustled, and Irma's ghastly shape sailed down on broad wings to land upon his hindquarters, a familiar, comforting weight in this land of Helovia past where a figure of the present shone through like a ghost.

( Basically he is a lot more clear to her than she is to him. xD Also for the movements.. think a bit corpse running in WoW, or the general smudgy/haziness of wearing the Ring in LotR xD )