Nothing ever turns out as planned, does it? In the darkness of a small cave up the mountain slope, barely more than a dent in the side and a slab covering the sky, Mauja watched what went on with his eyes closed and a heavy heart. Perched upon a rock outside of where he dwelt sat Irma, lit up by the silvery moonlight and her pale eyes fixed upon the scene below. Through her soul, her mind, the visions streamed in, of little ragged Lana traipsing out, some unknown monochrome Pegasus swooping in from the sky, protective Ari coming after, d'Artagnan, and Aviya. Behind his white eyelids his blue gaze kept roving restlessly, his heart thumping hollowly and his mind breaking itself in two. Some part of him felt foolishly attached to the one with the odd tail, the golden girl so bleached-out by the moon. Some part of him loathed slave-taking, loathed the fact that they kept two Pegasus in their midst, and wondered why on earth Faelene had one of them. Any member of the Plague he could understand trapping and keeping one, but her? It didn't add up, and what he wanted was to pretend it was all a dream and go back to sleep. In the morning, perhaps they would be free, though he could not be quite sure was Irma was a little too far away for even her superb hearing to catch all that was said.

He toyed with the idea of d'Artagnan being white and spotted for a moment, picturing it in his mind, Ari with her odd tail shielding Lana as she had when he'd met them. Something about it was touching, and he frowned in the darkness. Why was it that he pitied them? Why was it that he wanted them gone, out of here, where he did not have to worry? He was to be the Bane of their existence, and as he had thought of Azzuen, and Onni, Indy.. that he could like them for now, yet that he one day would have to strike them down without remorse — why was that notion getting harder to cling to, while at the same time he found himself restless, pacing in the hours of darkness, wishing to sink his teeth into something alive and meaty?

Mauja's eyes snapped open in the dark, but he still saw it all perfectly in his mind, the fog obscuring part of what happened yet it was obvious the intruder was kneeling in its midst. Ari and Lana remained where they were, frozen in horror on the outskirts of it, and the regal alabaster stallion strode out of his hollow in the mountainside and into the moonlight. It glowed silver on his frame, hung like a loose gown about him as the wind stirred his mane. Something about the scene made him feel sad, torn between two sides of himself, and he felt like an intruder. Knowing that he was starkly visible against the dark crags he moved over to just behind the owl, lowering his black muzzle to hold it against her blue-barred back for a moment. Her beak clicked once before her head swiveled around, and with a soft noise he'd never heard before she gave his long forelock a playful tug. Warmth, so alien coming from her stone cold soul, flooded him, almost flooring him mentally with the depth of her affection and reassurance. The breath hitched in his throat and he held still, drowning in the sudden flood until she turned her head away. Slightly abashed and embarrassed about the whole thing she shut the emotions off, but did not move away from his silent touch.

A slight smile played on his face for a moment before he set off down the slope, rocks clattering down ahead to herald his approach. Irma remained where she was, and for a moment he had the curious sensation of both walking down and seeing himself walk down, the moonlight gleaming upon his broad back. Then, her focus shifted to the horses below, and she left his mind alone. Out here, he could see just as well as she did.

Once clear of the steepest part of his descent he broke into an elegant trot, wondering what he was up to, but not pausing to second guess himself. He couldn't waver, not now, but how could he do something without knowing what it was? Trusting in his marbled heart not to mess things up too badly he found that he skirted the fog and the kneeling Aryel, hearing d'Artagnan's challenging words. Mauja flashed Aviya a small smile, not sure if she'd see it through the haze of her own fog, before he found himself standing slightly in front of Ari, as if on the verge of shielding her from the fog. He kept his head where one eye was upon the prisoners, and one upon the scene where he was quite certain the Doctor would slaughter the foolish intruder. He dared not speak, dared not issue an order, for he did not know what d'Artagnan had said to them, or what Aviya was going to do now that she'd been cheated of her prey — turn to one of the prisoners?

Could he allow that?
Curse his heart, and curse that the game of politics was not wholly his own any more.