Somehow, her disposition towards him, and the darkness painted across his picture, surprised him. He didn't know why, but he had not expected her to be supportive, least of all damning how others treated him and his kin. For some reason, it had never crossed his mind that she would be different, as her merry band seemed thick as thieves with the Throat, and thus, the Qian too, even if the latter had only stood to watch. But who could blame him, really? Helovia seemed divided into the Basin and those who disliked them, who saw horns poised to strike in every shadow and had nightmares of two rulers made by ice and shadow. In some twisted, foolish way he'd thought she tolerated him, perhaps enjoyed his cool intellect (though he couldn't recall having had an intellectual conversation with her), but ultimately, thought him a threat to the world peace (never mind that he was).. that he was some kind of disgraced uncle. Despite the fact that he was somewhat shocked, into silence even, his face did not betray it. He merely arched one 'brow coolly as if to say really, wondering what Mirage, Kri and Ktulu would say if they heard such blasphemy from her lips. And if they feared him for his influence, his ability to elicit loyalty.. then what kind of leaders were they? Cowards? Tyrants? It was always wise to respect your enemies, but fear? Were they so insecure they needed to fear him? He was nothing but a broken, snow-clad man anyway.

But talk turned to Jackal and he listened as she explained, having lived in her sister's dark shadow when it came to him; stayed away from childhood drama? Did she mean something like puppy love, the first forays into affection? Somehow, he could understand her, wishing to stay away from that tangle — though, bitterly, he could tell her that sometimes shit happened without love, too. For a moment his mind strayed to the dark Faelene, her disembodied voice in the darkness, but he pushed the memory aside. Ophelia surely had better control of herself, and more intelligence in that white head of hers. Detached as she was, he doubted she'd make any such.. things. Not that he regretted what he had shared with Faelene, only the way he'd handled it afterwards.. the complications it brought.

You're trying to run down several paths at once, Mauja. You cannot both have and eat the cake.

"It is," he agreed quietly, thinking of the snow capping the dark mountains, the lake reflecting the quiet night sky, and the pass leading in to that hidden heart in the northlands — and he thought of a high cliff towering above the sea, shrouded in mist and trees, smelling of brine and bark, always accompanied by the harsh cries of sea birds. Slowly his ears fell back as they found their peace in silence, her breathing growing slow but steady against his neck as his own mind wandered where it willed.

- - - - - -

She pulled back at his words, and he blinked, slowly, trying to beat the memories aside and away. He had thought the dream nothing more but a dream, a vivid imagination, testament to his longing of those he had been so cruelly torn from — yet here she was, speaking of it, and he tipped his gaze downwards while lightly pressing against her muzzle. It did not entirely soothe him, his heart still felt rugged and too-fast, like a deer startled by a predator who was not on the hunt. What had happened in that dream.. he did not quite know, except that he'd admitted, to himself, some things he perhaps should not have. It would've been easier if he'd locked himself in his icy cage of denial and duty, banished the ghouls with a flick of his dark soul and proclaimed to the world that I am right. But, it would not be that easy, and one ear twitched, recalling his own words. They rang with a hollow kind of clarity in his mind, and he tried to recall how many times he'd fallen through time and space in that dream. Twice, at least.

A weak smile played upon his face, and for a moment he closed his eyes, to try and gather his thoughts. She had not run away at the end, no — it was he who had fallen through the ground. Bitterly he wondered if she'd still promise not to run if she knew everything about him and his. "But you did run, at first," he insisted quietly, slowly opening his pale eyes to look at her again. "Before I dreamed of you, I fell again, and I think I woke up in water. You came walking, obliviously, saw me, met my eyes... and ran. I chased you, and the world collapsed, until we were alone in that cave. Once we were both in it.. you did not run again." Slowly his head tilted to one side. "But perhaps that was.. only my dream." He did not know when, or even if, their souls had joined, though her recollection of his last words, exactly as he had shouted them to that dark, gold-filled cave, was perfect. And it made him vaguely uneasy to think, that somewhere along the road, they had touched minds. And if he'd dreamed with her..

.. what if he'd dreamed with others, too?