He wasn't quite sure what madness had descended on him, but the end result was undeniable: he and Psyche were ambling away from the Basin, alone, and instead of falling into awkward silence or hidden taunts, they had something almost.. companionable. Even the long intervals of silence did not bother him, or make him feel uncomfortable — in fact, nothing had him looking over his shoulder, wondering if he'd come back at all from their little trip. Bit by bit it was as if his facade eroded, not in the spectacular crash it had been the first time, but rather in the slow trickle of ice thawed by the sun. It was not weakness which lay beneath, no tears, but quite an ordinary man: he could laugh, tease, smile, and something like warmth lay in his eyes. Of course, even Mauja the Ice King, who still lurked on his skin most of the time, had had warmth in his eyes, but it had been like the sun glinting off snow. It had been the winter sun which barely warmed, contained to his eyes, his smile.

Now, it lay in his soul.

It was much the way it had been when Faelene had surprised him at the pool, that it felt pointless to take the mask back on once she'd seen his face — his eyes — without it. Psyche had seen his mask drop before Faelene had, but he'd not spent much time alone with the Dark Empress, for better or for worse. She knew his face for what it was, she knew what it looked like with the hardened mask, and with the genuine openness. But, the most fascinating thing of all, and if he thought about it, perhaps the reason he let the mask fall, was that she did the same — or at least, he thought so. So many times had he asked her, who are you?, and now he was being given the chance to see for himself. It was like realizing the book you've read a thousand times had just as many more chapters, only you somehow never noticed. Whatever had happened to her in his absence had done her good. She was easier to get along with.. easier to like.

The sun had climbed up from the horizon, beating down upon them, merciless and cruel. No clouds shielded his back, and for what felt like the tenth time that minute he slapped his tail against his sweaty hocks. Living in the Basin didn't exactly prepare you for the rest of Helovia, even if this summer so far had nothing on the one he'd suffered through last year. They'd exchanged the trees for the open meadow, and he was starting to regret it, though he was loath to suggest they turn home; despite all his instincts, he rather enjoyed this sophisticated side of her. He knew that she had a wild heart, and a wild mind, but she wasn't feral, not anymore. In some way, he could even fool himself to think that she cared.

But that would be stupid to think.

They saw the wings at perhaps the same time, and without thought, without words, they both approached, drawing closer like curious, hungry wolves. Mauja's black-rimmed ears flipped forward, his eyes keen; the mask slipped on, his gaze growing colder. Rounding the tawny mess of a gangly Pegasus, he found something he should've been prepared for, but didn't want to acknowledge.

Nestled under the shadow of the red and orange feathers, stood Delinne. Beneath her, stood a small, black foal, with wings by her sides, nursing from her dam. Mauja's gut froze, and behind his unmoving mask he ground his teeth together. Trying to ignore the disappointment, this inevitable play-out of fate, he forced something like recognition and mild, friendly surprise onto his face, thawing his eyes. "Delinne?" he said, his voice light, as if he was thinking it a great pleasure to find her, her newborn and her mate upon the lavender meadow. But it was not, it was a displeasure, and all his hopes of this loyal mare bearing unicorns, even with a featherbrain father, were rendered obsolete. Craning his head slightly, he met Psyche's eyes; she was the predator again, a gleam within their amber depths which he recognized from so long ago. Sir, he thought, one corner of his mouth curling into a small gesture, something like a smile. Surely she would know what it meant — surely she'd also know, that they should tread carefully, for Delinne had been of value to them.

Their quiet exchange had taken no longer than a heartbeat, swift, but important. His gaze returned to Delinne, swept over the red-speckled hide of her filly.. up onto her mate, and within his skull, Mauja's brain was working at a fast pace. Thoughts and plans evolved, were analyzed, picked apart, and he wished he could somehow meld his mind with Psyche's — how terrible, and perfect, would they be as one? The concept was alluring, and frightening, but he could not dwell on that now. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly at Azzaron, anger in them, and then brought them back to Delinne, concerned. "Why are you with him?" he asked her quietly, drawing nearer a step, as if worried for her safety, the integrity of her heart. He dared not look upon Psyche, but all who knew Mauja knew that he was an avid tail-swisher, so it was not so strange that the white strands reached out to strike against the Empress' hocks, a silent message, a plea for her to play along. "Don't you know what he's done?" Quiet, quiet words, worried, worried eyes.