In a sense, it was terrifying to see that expression worn upon Delinne's body and face. The gleam of her eyes, the curve of her wicked smile — Mauja's own ears pressed themselves flat against his neck, his cold gaze unyielding even as it made him feel sick to see. Whatever was going on here, he wasn't going to back down. He wasn't going to let her get away with this. He'd defend Delinne's honor and integrity.

Anxiety became confidence. Distress became calm. And after a fashion, insanity came to be. He breathed in, even as she spat and hissed in his face, and when he breathed out, he forced each doubt out of his mind. He would not stop to consider the consequences if this truly was Delinne, for it couldn't be — this monster couldn't be within her. He chose to trust his nose, and the one thing he knew how to do: fight.

Mauja's eyes went colder, stonier, and despite the way her blue gaze bore into his he refused to flinch or break away. They stood so close now that he could feel her hot breath against his muzzle, taste the wrongness of it, but he did not lean back. He would not give this witch the satisfaction, nor would he listen to the quiet voice under his heart's hardened crust, the voice that whispered wait... No; he'd follow the pounding of his heart, the slowly stirring anger. Her horn quivered slightly left of his, moved by the subtle rhythm of her body. He knew that its tip was black.

On rapid wings the other half of his soul approached, riding the winds. Perhaps she would help, perhaps not. Only time would tell.

Delinne's words became meaningless, nothing but shifts in the air current washing against his muzzle. Words could not hurt you. Words could not make you bleed. Soon, he told himself, soothing the angry beast inside. His breathing remained even, his focus on her eyes; he might not hear her, but he could see her, and the hate flaring from her blue gaze was hot enough to scorch the soul — if you would let it. Mauja had frozen over, his pounding heart counting down the time. Adrenaline made him feel light-headed, anticipation churned in his gut, but despite the desire to tremble with excitement he held still. Not even the rhythm of his breathing changed as the strengthening blood rage battled his calm.

Then he flicked the switch.

Fury flooded him, a burning, itching desire to cause harm; darkness swelled in his veins, suffocating the last whispers of doubt in his heart as he sprang into rapid motion. He tossed his head down and left, as if to jab her face, before driving straight forward. His hind hooves pushed off the solid, rocky bank, the tip of his horn aiming for where her left shoulder met the neck. He'd never wanted her eye, her face — he'd always hunted something warmer, something to slake the thirst which had erupted in his mind. And idly he wondered, would he feel the thrum of her life, with his horn embedded in her heart?

[ 1/4 :: 524 words ]

Mauja Frosthjärta

Delinne
I grin my wicked smile as I watch Mauja. Was he really up for a good fight? Was this little bloody teddybear really a soldier?
He stood too still to be a soldier. He wasn't a fighter, he was just a little cowa---
In the middle of a thought he jerked his head, and I jumped backwards raising my head high. N-NOPE! I hissed at him and backed away from his ice horn, but I couldn't keep myself all free. A small cut opened up right on my throat, a vertical line of pink around the middle of my beautiful black throat. The blood was coming fast, but it wasn't more than a regular cut that you would get from a thorn.
But that just wasn't enough for the King.
He just had to make another attack. This time he jumped towards me, aiming for my heart with his frosty blue horn. A frown replaced the wicked from upon my lips and I snapped my teeth in the air as I backed away. I turned slightly more to the left as I backed away, hissing as I felt the tip of his horn sink into the flesh of my shoulder. Luckily it was the middle of my shoulder, where a huge bone was to fulfill my yellowing skeleton.

I had backed away almost completely from the small river now, and I had Mauja standing in between me and the water. He was much bigger than me - much - but we had similar blood running in our veins which made our bodies look almost the same. We were just as muscular.
But I was probably a bit more muscular, beautiful as I was. He was just another creature from this boringly colorful world.

Blood was running from the small hole in the flesh of my left shoulder, making me frown even more. He wanted to fight? Then he would get a fight! I lowered my head to aim my horn toward the ab-looking skin between his legs and right beneath his neck, hoping to hurt him deeply.
Then I jumped.
I pushed away from the grass with my hind legs and tried to stab him deeply with my twisted horn. Just half a second later I jerk my head upwards, seeking to tear his smooth white and black skin apart with the tip of my dual colored horn.
The wicked smile is back on my lips, arriving with a crazy look in my blue gaze. I looked like a mentally sick horse - but who knew? Maybe I was one deep inside?

The Doppleganger

She was fast — she must've been ready for his sudden movement, or something, nerves pulled taut, for the moment his head whisked downward she jumped backwards and his horn nicked her dark skin.

At least he had achieved what he wanted, even if she had leaped back, because her horn was pointing harmlessly into the sky. His own finished its downward arc, aiming for her neck, the threat of pain spelled out so clearly in every line of his body. Ice cold and merciless, his face a blank mask, yet he never paused, always moved, effortlessly graceful as each movement melded into the next. To dream of succeeding — it would be foolish, she had shown how light she was upon her feet, but the knowledge of how it felt to split flesh hung tantalizingly upon the edges of his mind, and he couldn't help but hunger for it.

At the edges of his forward vision he saw her move, heard the warning click of her teeth as they closed upon air but cared naught for it, and in the next moment his horn collided with the flat bone in her shoulder, jarring him slightly and rattling his head. Frosted hooves came down hard upon the rocky ground as he found traction and pulled back, blood glinting off the tip of his horn; his neck throbbed for a moment from absorbing the impact. Delinne was backing away, and in a fluid motion he spun to face her. Gritting his teeth, Mauja gave his head a small shake, thankful he hadn't been able to put more power behind the blow; in a game of raw strength he could probably pound her to a pulp, but he'd rather not sprain his neck accidentally trying to pierce bone.

But there was no time to waste on thoughts, and he knew she was quick-footed. Mauja's muscles were tense, prepared to react, and when the moonlight gleaming upon her dark hide changed, the play of muscles heralding an attack, he was ready for it. Instincts clashed, and merged into something both terrible and beautiful: a rush of power, so much stronger than adrenaline, erupted in his chest, his blood cooling as the snowbeast in his soul clawed its way out. Filled up by a sense of maddened, dark elation he lifted his front end off the ground, and while he pivoted left it opened up, ice rising majestically into the dark sky. One, to separate them; it scraped against his right shoulder as it drove into the sky, a cold touch against his hot body, the caress of an old familiar friend, but more so a shield to keep her horn from him. Two, rising close to her sides to hem her in, maybe even split her skin as they grew to tower above them both, a fourth behind her to block her escape — and a final one shooting from the ground beneath her, to fulfill every dark desire pounding in his blood. Five spikes of frigid ice pulled from the depths of his soul, rising simultaneously in a deadly salute.

Landing, Mauja leaped forward a stride, elegant in his precision and cold in his determination. All of a sudden he felt excited, alive, the air in his lungs cold and sweet; bright-eyed he stood, watching the monuments of ice, poised just on the edge of movement yet smiling in anticipation. Blood was beautiful on ice, didn't you know?

[ 2/4 :: 573 words ]

Mauja Frosthjärta

Delinne
OH HELL NO! I didn't expect the stallion to shoot ice spikes from the ground!
They were surrounding me - one in front of me, blocking my horn from touching the fragile surface of his white skin, one on both of my sides that scraped my skin badly and one behind me.
The ones on my side rose high from the ground and carried my blood with them, slowly running down the frosty veins. The scar I had worn so proudly was scraped and gone - at least most of it. Muscles beneath the skin were flashed as the spikes had been raised almost to be inside her.
It felt good, the pain was wonderful and it cleared my mind more than anything. The stallion apparently didn't know that he had made me a favor.
Pain was afterall my power source.
"Mauja, Mauja, Mauja..." I laughed his name, whilst the blood was slowly running down my sides and drip-dropped on the ground from my belly. The ice spike that was rising underneath me got covered in blood in no-time, and I sighed.
This wasn't even close to be the end for my soul.

Even though it was tight between the spikes, I put all of my weight on my front legs and kicked at the spike behind me. I almost forced myself to break that ice stick, giving me a chance to stay alive for a little longer. The spike covered in blood underneath me was rising taller and I felt the tip of it scrape my belly. Fuck. It cut the surface of my skin as I tried to move inside of the cage and more blood started to leak out.
Was this the end?
No.
My head was resting against the cold spike in front of me, as I pushed my whole body forward. When I had gained some power in my hind legs, I kicked. I kicked with all of my will-power and snorted when my hooves touched the surface of the ice.
The tip of the spike broke, making it only knee-high behind me. Would I be able to back out before Mauja made it grow strong again?
It was worth a shot.

Not caring about the blood that was smeared out all over the ice, I backed out. Carefully - but kinda clumsy - backing over and out, until my head was out of the "cage". Fuck Mauja and his ice.
I glared at him between the red and blue spikes. He would be punished for making these ice towers, and for trying to hurt one of his subjects.
"Do you really hate me this much? I thought you were my King - not an asshole who just wants to punish his subjects by impaling them with ice spikes. I thought I knew you." I said, slowly letting my words turn into a quiet whisper. It was probably wise to let him think that I was someone else - the one he knew - and that he had just hurt one of his own.
"I loved you, Mauja..."
Okay, that was probably too much, but what the heck.

I sighed and turned away my head from the white stallion, to avoid letting him see the smile that creeped across my lips. Oh, this was FUN!
The Doppleganger

She was trapped. Elegantly, neatly trapped, and he just stood there, staring at her with eyes that slowly lost their manic glow. What was he doing? What was he doing? Each breath felt less and less invigorating, growing heavier until they settled across his throat, threatening to choke him; the fire, the frantic elation, that had flowed through his veins dimmed, faded, until nothing remained but a leaden weight in his soul. He felt dirty — vile. Blood spattered the ice, something that should've been so beautiful to him, exciting and terrifying, but it was just ugly in the pallid moonlight. Mauja tried to swallow the shame, but it stuck in his throat and refused to disappear; his ears flattened to his neck to block out the sound of her mad laughter. Since when had he used attack as a means to solve a situation? Since when was he so weak that something like this could corner him into lashing out?

And what sickness made him enjoy hurting the body of someone he knew, a familiar face? She was writhing in his cage, moving, pushing forward, kicking out; he felt each blow reverberate through his soul, but somehow kept himself from flinching. Through the narrow spires he saw her dark body, saw the cold glitter of her blood.

Delinne, bleeding.
Because of him.

His conviction that it was not her body was fading; it smelled wrong, but what if that was just the magic? What if she was trapped inside, a helpless observer, barred in behind the witch's foul consciousness?
The spike behind Delinne broke. Mauja had all but released his hold on them; they hung in a precarious balance as his mind shuddered.

As the black mare backed out of her prison he let them go; warmth returned to his blood, to his soul, the doubts coming back to life as the beast retreated. Cracks ran down the spikes, mirrored by the cracks in his shaken mind, and in a shower of sparkling fragments they crashed down to earth. Let not the monuments of his madness stand; they would melt against the warm soil and take her blood with them into the ground.

"Do you really hate me this much?" No. I'm sorry. "I thought you were my King - not an asshole who just wants to punish his subjects by impaling them with ice spikes." I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. "I thought I knew you." You didn't.

You don't. I don't know you.
Wary and distraught he stared at her, his eyes blank not from ice-wrath but from the fact that he could not make sense of the situation. She couldn't be Delinne. Delinne would've.. cried? Screamed? She wouldn't have been so cold, as if the blood leaking from her scraped sides didn't matter at all.
But what if she was locked within.
He couldn't kill the witch.

"I loved you, Mauja..."
No you didn't. You loved Azzaron. And I destroyed that.

"Shut the fuck up," he whispered hoarsely, shifting restlessly upon the ground; his right shoulder throbbed and he frowned, trying to recall why, but he couldn't remember. "Go away." She looked aside and he felt his heart constrict, not knowing what to do; Irma came out of the darkness, a white bullet, and settled on his scarred withers. The painful squeeze of her talons was comforting, the battle hymn she sung in the back of his mind something stable to hold on to. He drew half a step forward, suddenly unsure again. The darkness stirred in his veins, but Irma seemed not to mind, only soothed his straying thoughts. The waters rose again, but she urged him not to fight it, to be pulled under... she would guide him, she would lead him, he was safe with her, he need not worry, she was there, here, inside, within, mind, soul, heart, she would take care of this, it was alright; relax, relax, relax, I'll take care of you.
Smell, she said, and he did; nothing of Basin, Destry, or Druid.
Move, she said, and he did; one hesitant step closer, only a few paces between them now.
Destroy, she said, and his mind broke.

She gripped his shoulder tightly as he lunged across the space, head lowered from his taller stature to bear his horn towards the left side of her neck. It sent a thrill through her, to feel the power of his muscles, the thrum of his veins, the beat of his large heart; after all, birds were not such muscular creatures. As Mauja sank into oblivion, his body moving to her silent commands, Irma smiled grimly to herself on the inside.

She would pound this witch to a pulp for him.

[ 3/4 :: 788 words ]

Mauja Frosthjärta

Delinne
Cracks showed up along the frosty spikes and I smiled wider. The blood was sinking into the ice and colored it deeply red, just like the sides of my body were. The wounds was burning now, but I didn't care. Pain was a good old friend of mine and I did everything but fear it.
I heard the sound of wings long before the owl actually showed up, and I turned my head to glare at it. Who was that? And why did it sit upon his withers? My gaze turns to Mauja's eyes, and I see in his blue orbs that he had seen through my disguise. I wasn't the Delinne he searched for, apparently. He knew that I was someone else.

But I was Delinne, wasn't I?

"Mauja... Do you not trust me?" I asked him, my voice soft and sarcastic at the same time. Though I didn't notice that he didn't even pay attention to me anymore. He stood still - until his giant body moved towards me. Fuck.
I looked at the stallion as he came closer, his body seemed to be moved by not him; but by his bird. The owl was sending him towards me.
And his horn was pointed towards me.
I watched as he came closer and sighed. This was too much fun, and he was about to end it all.
Well... It had been fun while it had lasted.
I rose my muzzle to the sky, fully exposing my black and white neck, and looked at the giant who was running in my direction. A growl made my throat vibrate slightly and I sighed again.
"Kill me. Kill your loyal subject, end my life. But you will never see me ever again if you do so. I am the one and only Delinne - remember that, my King."
Ready and clear, I stood still and waited for his horn to impale my slender neck. I waited for my life to end with a wicked smile across my lips and a crazy look in my blue eyes.
"End me."

The Doppleganger

There's no time for this. Words, useless, meaningless, drifted into his roaring ears, drowned out by the sound of a frantic pulse, of life so strong in his own chest when it is just about to drain out of her. Somewhere, somehow, the words were imprinted on his mind, branded into his subconscious, but he did not actively register — nor acknowledge — them. They disappeared in the din of chaos, and as he drifted aimlessly throughout the two bodies and mind conjoined he felt the echo of excitement, of victory, success, feral pride and a hunter's glee at sinking something sharp into flesh.

Red warmth spattered against his face, the violent spray of blood fueled by a desperate, dying heart; the shower of life shook both owl and unicorn out of their reveries, returning to the places where their minds belonged — she, blinking rapidly, breathless with the overwhelming sensation of what she'd just done, the thrill of the hunt leaving her light, elated, and he, stringing thoughts and vague memories together to come up with why Delinne lay dying by his feet.

In the moonlight, she looked only like the one he knew; the sharp tang of blood obliterated every other smell which may or may not have existed. Ragged breaths came in through widened nostrils, blood drying on his face and freezing on his horn. A last shudder passed through her body, the blood in her veins growing stale, and cold. Despite the too-obvious fact that she was dead, he could not comprehend it — could not accept it. Every wall in his mind had been thrown up, and he couldn't hear the hammering of Irma against his icy walls, nor feel the desperate swell of her emotions against the barrier. All he felt was an odd sense of detached disbelief, numbness, and for several long, quiet moments he just stared at her glazed-over eyes, and the red soaking through the soil.

Then, in a moment both painful and freeing, life seemed to catch up with the frozen monarch.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!" he roared, his voice a bellow rolling across the meadow and startling birds into flight; trembling, he backed away from the corpse, his bloodied head turning to stare, accusingly, at Irma. Her eyes were blank, her wings close to her body.

It was not Delinne, her emotions said.
"Look at her!" he screeched, his voice shrill.
It's still not her, came the frustratingly cold response.
"YOU KILLED HER!"
Yes.

And what could he say? What could he do, to argue, when she did not even deny it? It was not the first time he had killed, not the first time he had seen death, but it was the first time he had killed a friend. A friend who trusted him.
It wasn't her the owl patiently repeated, though he could tell she was exasperated. For a moment everything had been so simple, when he had seen the world through her eyes, felt her thoughts, her clarity, the crystal edges, the black and white which refined her actions.

Sparing the corpse a last look Mauja turned on his heel and ran north, to the Basin.

Mauja Frosthjärta