.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-18-2013, 06:31 AM
 It's hard to get to heaven, when you're born hell-bound.
There were limits to what he could do – he could keep a straight, smooth face while conversing with someone who did not know Mauja had killed Torasin, the object of conversation, but it was harder to be all smiles about it. And besides, what would it say of him if he smiled about it? Wasn't it natural, to be sorrowful, and.. wary? But why was he wary, if he hadn't known about d'Artagnan? His thoughts ran at a fast pace, and he came to the conclusion that even if he chucked Torasin out the window, the tension in Helovia had upped since last. Much of the cause was Psyche and Kri butting heads, but with Kri allied with Mirage, it was bound to rub off on the Edge.. and gods knew how Psyche's negotiations with the Grey had gone. Dryly he realized it was not a good time to be Mauja. But unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it, and had to make the best of it. She was out here fetching willow bark. She was the new Moon Doctor. She wore the mantle that should've been d'Artagnan's, serving a mare who should still scrape her living out in the Wilds – but the bitter thoughts had lost their sting, his mind merely going through the motions as he nodded thoughtfully, blue gaze scouring the horizon. Willow bark.. what did it even do? There hadn't been any willows in his homeland, and it was awkward to realize there were still so many things he didn't know. And some things he was sure he'd never know, but the art of healing was useful. He should fix that problem some day... "You're troubled." "Mmh," he hummed in response, returning his eyes to her. She was perceptive, but if he thought about it.. it had been nearly a year ago since they'd met last. A year was a long time. A year since you came home, you weak fool. A lot could happen in a year. After a moment's silence he sighed, guessing she wouldn't settle for nothing but an explanation. And keenly he remembered the last time he tried to explain anything, and the too-clear insight he'd offered Prometheus. "There's a lot on my mind, and wouldn't you be troubled too, if you'd just been told one of the ranked members in your herd committed murder?" A wry, mirthless smile curved his lips, something cynical about it, but he found strength in the simple rhetoric. Smoke had been a leader once – surely she knew how it could weigh on your mind. Mauja Frosthjärta |
