Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

Nothing came of his counter-attack, only a vacant space as the strange creature stumbled sideways. A growl vibrated deep in the monarch's chest, thrumming through his body in sync with his heated blood. He had no way of seeing, but the water trickling down on his face had turned pink, diluted blood settling on his face. The scent of it was on the air, and after a moment he realized he had struck the dark creature, just not where he had meant to. The beast was too healthy still, coming forward again. Clearly it was hellbent on fighting Mauja, and the King was torn between amused annoyance and prideful, foolish anger. There was no logic to the situation, and the FrostHeart stood poised between retreat (not out of fear, but the inconvenience of fighting) and the desire to attack, fight back.

Monster advanced.

Mauja did, too.

He let go of his control, let the rest of the world slide away. Restraints fell away. The cultivated, socially adept Mauja disappeared to somewhere, taking all the charm and intrigue, the political dance, with it. In its stead, the beast came out, fierce, muscles rippling under white skin. A snarl escaped him as he charged, rising to meet the onslaught; a hoof glanced off his left shoulder as he rose head against head with the black villain. Mauja's own legs were bunched up like a shield across his chest, and without hesitating he drove in closer, trying to use his height to an advantage and lean down on his adversary. For a moment he looked at those mad, fiery eyes, and he saw nothing intelligent, nothing of value - nothing, not even something resembling anger. But he himself was hardly better, engaging in this foolish game of bloodshed. He'd been slashed once, and here he was, playing with fire once more?

It looked no better. Gravity demanded its due, and they fell down as one, the black horn whispering past his body; he had no desire to let it open him again. Once down, Mauja backed up a step, because he'd nearly been standing on top of Monster, and he wasn't sure if it was wise. Wary, the monarch began to circle the black beast. He didn't want to make the first move, but would rather provoke the creature into attacking again. Rage smoldered in the blue depths of his gaze, pent-up emotions finally finding an outlet. Half a minute ago he would've preferred the monster to back off and go his own way; now, he wanted him to bleed.