It truly didn't take long for Janus to wander beyond the borders of the Foothills, her new home. Having attended the herd meeting, she felt a bit more in place, like the piece of a rather complicated puzzle that was just slotted into place... Yet there was a darker side to her, one that fretted that she would never be able to blend in, to accept the members of the Grey as her new family. Lev Fence had brought her in out of the kindness of his own heart, and the pale war-mount wouldn't forsake his invitation. She would settle in the Grey and fight with them, even if her heart felt detached.

Beneath pale, cream-kissed hooves, the snow crunched and crackled, sliding and giving way beneath the Andalusian's lithe weight. A bitter winter wind blew through the air, playing with the strands of the mare's long, white mane and tail. The skies, however, were clear, but the sight of the sun did little to warm the frigid chill of Frostfall. Through the land the mare walked in solitude, her head poised low, yet ice-blue eyes sharp and alert. After all, her time as a war-mount had taught her to not let down her guard while in a foreign place. What was this place called again...?

Oh, yes. The Heavenly Fields.

North from the Foothills, Janus had wandered, losing herself in the similiarties of the mountainous terrain between here and in Vallhea. Her subconsciousness made small connections between the two countries, which did nothing to help mend the troubled agony in her heart. Occasionally during her venture, the mare would pause and release a shuddering sigh. Was this what the future held for her? Bitter loneliness and self-loathing? Oh, Gods... Why couldn't she have fallen in battle with her beloved Riveth?

Lifting her head up to the clear skies, Janus released yet another breath. She told herself that it was simply the cold air that brought tears to her eyes. "...What do I do?" Janus questioned with heart ache choking her voice, her tone gravelly and low, "Please, just tell me, what do I do...?"

As her eyes lingered upon the skies, however, nothing came. The emptiness within the pale Andalusian grew, and a shuddering sigh shook the mare's barrel. It was moments like this, where she was left to her own thoughts and devices, that Janus found she missed her home in Vallhea terribly. How long had it been since Vallhea had fallen, and Riveth had been slain? A year...? Perhaps longer? That was how long she had been in captivitiy, taken by the enemy and used as a slave. The mare snorted, fiery rage shining within her ice-blue depths. Never again... Never again.

It was not strange that he considered winter to be beautiful — the glitter of snow hit by sunlight, the flash of warmth from a pale sun.. there was even beauty in a horizon of gray, the line between heaven and earth blurred, and a sense of profound peace in snowfall, when the world was silent and asleep aside from the gentle whisper of snowflakes falling down. Born amidst glaciers and tall peaks, flat ice fields and soft, soft snow, he likely would've gone mad if he hadn't adored it. Summers had been short, the ground never thawing completely, but the days impossibly long as the sun never set, just as it never rose in deepest winter. His rugged coat kept him warm, even when the wind snatched at him, trying to steal his heat, but he simply stood in the light of the sun and soaked it up, maintaining equilibrium.

He wasn't sure why he was still up here, on the tall shelf above the Foothills. Maybe he was just as much a fool as he thought, still straining for a sight of red but catching nothing whenever he ventured to the side where he could peer down. Most often that not clouds blocked his view, and he'd given up on that slim hope — lingering instead because it was a beautiful place to be, the view out across mountains and clouds and oceans breathtaking. And, it was better than the slush of the south, the heat of the Heart. It reminded him of home, not only home-beyond-the-mountains, but the Basin, too, with its jagged ice-capped peaks and snowy forests.

His heart yearned for it, yet here he was, adrift in a place where he did not belong, on some secret quest of his own design.

Irma was thankful for it; it meant she could spend her days closer to him, and now she was returning after a successful hunt. The hare had already been devoured and the blood and gore cleaned from claws and beak, and pale dark-barred wings brought her near a white equine, her speech drifting into the owl's keen ears, processed by the soul shared with Mauja. Irma wheeled around, spiraling higher near the mare, watching her upturned gaze, hearing the silence of the skies — and Mauja, he sighed, half-amused. The mare's distress was not the source of it, for he was not yet heartless, but rather the fact she came here. Did everyone come here for answers, or solutions? Himself, so long ago.. Voodoo, just a few days ago.. and now this stranger.

Sighing a cloud of smoke towards the skies, he unlocked his knees and drifted from his spot, an angel walking on the snow towards her; he was graceful, frosted hooves stepping with ease on the thin carpet of snow, his long mane falling about his neck. An angel, but with a heart of darkness, frostbitten and black.

"Do we all come here for guidance?" His voice was a quiet rumble, the question detached by minutes from her own; his means of having heard it were made known when Irma alighted upon his withers, folding her wings and watching the mare with her impassive, cold eyes.

Mauja watched her too, but his eyes were kind and soft.

night-fate-stock -- dreamofsandman -- deirdre-T -- deviantart.com // i-mi.deviantart.com

Head upturned, gaze still locked on the heavens, Janus briefly spotted the owl that soared through the skies. The sight of the owl, snowy white and color, caused the mare's gaze to shift in curiosity. Wasn't it rather cold for a bird of prey to be out? Yet... Then again, this was a snowy owl. Perhaps they were used to such rigorous climates?

As the owl flew overhead, the Andalusian was helpless but to watch. Ice-blue eyes lingered upon each feather and curvature of the owl's wings, a slight look of envy crossing her features. What would it be like to fly, she wondered? To simply spread one's wings and take to the skies? To simply... Escape your troubles, if only for awhile?

Still, it seemed that this mysterious, yet beautiful, snowy owl woudn't be her only company, as a deep voice echoed through the silence of the winter afternoon. Immediately Janus' head snapped downwards and to the sides, her ears pinned back in uncertainty and eyes narrowed. Her gaze sought out the owner to the voice, and not only was she surprised to see him so close -how had he crept up so silently?-, but his sheer size in comparison to her was somewhat unsettling. Not one to be deterred, however, Janus gave a snort of warning, and shifted, swinging her rear behind her so that she faced the remarkably handsome stallion.

Sharp blue eyes lingered, surveying and cataloging each and every detail of the spotted, horned male in front of her. He was... Well, perhaps dashing would make her seem like a fairy-tale spun idiot, but he was rather handsome. Spots of the finest ebony adorned his coat, covering his powerful and muscled frame... And were those feathers, roosting behind his ears and nestled in the nape of his tail?

During her survey, she took notice of the same white owl from before arriving and settling upon the steed's withers, and that earned a curious glance before her thoughts redirected once more to the spotted male. "... Perhaps," came Janus' response, her voice wary and uncertain. There was no way knowing if this male was a threat, and yet... His eyes were soothing, almost like a vera balm over a terrible burn. "Although you are the first I have seen up here, as I'm rather new to these lands, so I cannot answer your question."

Turning her head slightly, the Andalusian glanced at the sky once more before returning her gaze to the great horned steed. "Perhaps... Troubled souls come here to feel close to the heavens, some to seek answers, and others to simply seek the company of those long-since passed. Are you here for guidance, good sir?" There was no bite or hate to her words, just lowly spoken blunt facts.

Suddenly, a rather humorless grin crossed her pale maw. "For if you are, I fear I'm a rather pathetic creature to question."

So he hadn't lost his touch at snow-walking. It was his voice that startled her into motion, not the soft sound of shuffled snow, nor the whisper of limbs through air – his voice, and he wondered how close he could've got if he hadn't opened his mouth. Close enough for an.. accident? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer either, merely watched, silent now that his question had been asked, as she glared at him through narrowed eyes for a moment; his own remained soft, gentle even, black-rimmed ears flickering forward to show he meant no harm. He was content to keep his distance, to stand as a marble statue as she scrutinized him. One ear flicked idly backward, before returning to its previous position, and he wondered if he had always had this composure – this ability to stand before someone who studied him, without quivering? Without feeling uneasy, or letting his own eyes roam away? He had a hunch he hadn't.. that his confidence was not the boyish sort caused by foolish youth, but rather something hard earned, a journey to find himself, security in his own skin... Surely he'd squirmed before the officers when he was but a boy new to the ways of the world, and surely he'd shoved his chin out stubbornly when trying to pretend he hadn't done wrong?

The memory of dark nights and flickering fires faded away at the sound of her uncertain voice. She seemed to have decided he was no immediate threat, and he was content with that. He didn't want to be a threat, even though he knew a soul or two who would gladly push her over the edge and laugh as she fell out of sight, crushed against the sloping mountainside. The notion stirred something in him, a trace of unease, and he forced it down again. Death had no place in conversations, and yet he was keenly aware of how he'd thought of Aylin's sun-loving brother all those seasons ago.

He let her speak, his eyes not losing their soft kindness. A stranger, a newcomer in Helovia. He tried to remember what it was like, to be lost within her, to not know the dark undercurrents, the way the wind blew.. who was a danger, and who was not? Had tales of the northern unicorns reached her, tales of the danger they posed, the mischief they wrought, and of their two fearsome leaders; one black as the night, the other spotted like a leopard cat? He had a hunch she didn't know. Perhaps no one had told her. Perhaps she lived with someone who didn't bother to scare her off with tall tales.

As she rounded her words off with a humorless smile he chuckled, wondering what had made her heart so bitter. Why, she almost sounded like him. "Fortunately for you, m'lady, I am not," he said with a trace of warm humor. "At least not this time. I came here over a year ago, seeking answers.. and the ones I got, I did not understand until recently." Namely, that blind faith was bad, and that the Moon was a bitch. Slowly his blue gaze went upwards, coming to a rest on the sky. Was it truly so, that it was the closeness of heaven which drew others up here? Was it what drew him?

Frankly, he didn't know.

night-fate-stock -- dreamofsandman -- deirdre-T -- deviantart.com // i-mi.deviantart.com