The sun is set high on the sky, beating down mercilessly on the defenseless earth that lies below, searing the shrubbery and bending the trees to His will. She steps gracefully upon the lands, swaying steps carrying her across the border, a new world unfolding before her. Her black coat gleams like tar in the sharp sun, heat gracing her neck with a thin film of sweat, but she does not seem fazed by it. Keahi keeps her head raised proudly, sleek obsidian horn pointed toward the heavens, never hesitating as she strides into the shade of the woods. Cloven hooves are placed carefully on the uneven forest floor, leonine tail swishing lazily behind her, chasing off the blood lusting insects that linger here. Within her eyes burn emerald flames, as she takes in sights of this new home. The ebon wench did not refer to the Threshold, but to all of Helovia; there it lies, undiscovered, welcoming her with open arms.

Like a large cat, her sleek figure moves between the trees, lobes pointed forward and all senses tuned in on her surroundings. If anyone approaches, she is sure to know. Everything around her looks so dreary, brittle under the sun’s fit of rage, bowing humbly to his display of power. A smile slips upon her velveteen kissers, whirling up dust as she goes. Fire has been here, the vixen smells the sweet ashes in the air; the tiniest of sparks and the entire area would be ablaze. Ahead, she sees a clearing in the vegetation, sunlight nearly blinding when arriving under the shelter of treetops. Here she settles, by the edge of a dried up pond, allowing herself a brief rest before continuing on her wanderings. Keahi is a curious creature, looking forward to what this new land has to offer her. Suitors may arrive, flocking to her as they have of habit, and she is ready to receive them with a slick smile and a sultry glance. A tease, she has often been accused of such, and who is she to deny it? It is the truth, even she admits.

She will chew them up and spit them out, play with them as she usually does, and throw them aside when she has lost interest. It is a seldom game, a dance of bodies and wits that she never seems to grow tired of. Shaking her nape, her wispy mane resettles in its usual untidy way, lobes flicking around to snatch the sound of the approaching. From nature’s hand, Keahi was not blessed with much; she is sharp to look at, bones jutting out and ribs clearly visible under her thin, satin skin. What little feathers grows from her is silky in texture, long and disheveled to look upon, her mane often dreaded and knotted from blistering desert winds. But her eyes, those are her most captivating assets, framed in thick lashes as black as her shining hide. What she lacks in exterior, she has compensated through her demeanor, and often times her flaws seem to fade when she puts on her show. You’ll see for yourself, if you dare to approach.

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

Back among the towering trees, sunlight bleeding down onto him, carrying heat with it like pus from a wound - as if someone had gutted the sun itself open and it was all trickling down onto the world. Dust motes swirled in the air, stirred from the floor by the wraith-king's passage, clinging to his alabaster legs and making him seem more off-white than pristine, snow-like. Sweat further darkened his coat, and made the grime stick firmly to his Friesian shape - even the raven feathers seemed dulled, matted by the dusty coating. Water trickled down the length of his bony horn, running onto his face in small, small rivulets and drying there.

Mauja hated Tallsun.

It destroyed his lifeblood, melted it, and the ice king would rather burrow in the slush to the north, but he had a duty to do. A duty to his herd. With his raven-decked tail flickering against his hocks he strode through the forest, ignoring the scents of equine and pegasus, searching out the unicorn ones; some of them were for him to take, some not. Now, he had found a trail, and stuck to it like a hound, gracefully moving through the dry trees. Leaves, fallen and brittle, crunched under his weight. Mauja had no intention to sneak. The only times he did that, was in the Edge forest, and then only because it pleased him to startle his friends with a sudden ice spike. Out here, such greetings were a tad riskier. Not all unicorns sought a prankster for a king.

A pond had once been beside her, but now it was only a dry crater, a few wilted flowers and wild grasses leaning sadly down the slopes, all brown and brittle. She, however, shone in the light, her hide like polished onyx and only further accentuated by the thin film of sweat. Unlike the off-white King, she looked good when sweaty.

Mauja gave his head a shake, slipped closer; she was a thin thing, but didn't seem frail, just... thin. He could see the arc of her ribs, the angles of her hips; her neck was thin and serpentine, covered by knotted hair. She held all the green of the forest in her eyes. The King drifted closer, finally halting a few yards off, perched elegantly at the edge of the clearing. The sun didn't quite reach him down here, and he remained cast in a dappled shadow.

"Welcome to Helovia. I am Mauja."

Summer was all she lived for. It was comforting; the burning sun was the same as the one she had been born under, no matter where she went. The sun was the source of all life, without it everything would cease to exist; of this she was certain. So while the rest of the lands were suffering, the ebony wench rejoiced at the power of her God. This was the weather she had been born for; it was what she had always known.

Someone was closing in. Slender lobes flicker and point when they locate the direction of sound, nares flaring to catch drifting scents upon the zephyr. Indeed, she is right again; a suitor is approaching, the husky smell of stallion filling her lungs. Sweat, ash and forest she smells on him as well, making sure to remember in case it should come in useful later. She guesses that he must be a big boy, by the amount of noise he is making as he approaches, dry leaves and twigs sighing as they are crushed underhoof. Keahi flicks her tail impatiently, shifting her weight on her feet, light reflecting in her onyx horn. Then she sees him, and she is not disappointed. He comes with all the gruffness, the sweat and the grime that can sometimes be so oddly alluring in a man. Emerald optics burn brightly as he halts at the edge of the forest, greeting her and offering his name. Helovia, he says. She tastes the word, replays it inside her head and decides she likes the sound of it; but what’s in a name, right?

Mauja is his, if he is to be believed. He was tall, but so was she, only about a hand’s worth in difference, yet he was much heavier built than she. Mauja did not seem to enjoy the heat; he preferred the shadow of the trees to shelter him. He is a creature of grace, an aura of cool around him, even in the hottest summer heat and he possesses a natural form of authority, even though he is just posed there. Keahi never did respect authorities all that much, but she won’t hold it against him. Cocking her head a little to the side, she is silent for a moment after he has spoken, her eyes gliding over him again. Then she turns her front towards him, drawing a couple of steps closer, swaying in her characteristic way. She will meet him at his terms, not force him out of his pleasant cover even if she would’ve loved to. Halting, she keeps her nape high, a smile slipping upon her soft lips. “Pleasure to meet you, Mauja,” she speaks breathily, her soft chords flowing from her maw. Her tail flicks lazily behind her, intelligent eyes not leaving the pale steed for one second.

“Walk with me,” she speaks, not as much a question as a demand, strolling forward and past him, close enough for him to feel the brush of her body against his. He will follow, she is certain, her hips swaying as she strides into the forest, effortlessly. Unlike Mauja, she moves almost soundlessly, gracefully. “Helovia; it sounds beautiful. Tell me more,” she says eyes pleading as they find his, but with a smirk gracing her maw to contradict their innocent playfulness. If he is interested, he will keep up; if not, he is a waste of time either way.

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

There was something dominating about her, something self-confident, assured; it should've been annoying, but... It was like having his willpower sapped in a way that was a lot worse than when around Lotus. In silence she moved forward, swaying her body as if to lure him into a trance, but she paused all too soon. He didn't know whether he was grateful or annoyed about it. In fact, he didn't know why he was reacting like that at all - was it just because she smelled of sweat and shone like a polished gem in the sun? It was bizarre and unnerving, and he shook his head to clear it and regain some semblance of control. Hormones were good sometimes, but not around strangers, nor in the blazing warmth of summer. He preferred the air to be cool and crisp, the snow pale in the moonlight, when it was cold all around you, breath and bodies steaming...

Snap out of it.

But how could she, when her voice was a purr and her lissome body brushed past his, the faintest of touches? An involuntary shudder passed him, and he ground his teeth together; who was she, to hold such power over his body? He refused to be played for a fool, to fall for it. In his experience, strangers seldom bedded strangers. They just toyed with them, and they finished it off by leaving them panting and wanting, but not getting; it was the epitome of control and humiliation. Mauja forced his thoughts away from it. He could allow himself to fall in behind her, though, easily moving through the forest but still not caring on what he stepped. White, he shadowed her, elegantly sweeping across the floor. "Your name, mare," he demanded in return, something wistful, amused, in his voice, in his eyes. They'd trade, information for information; he would not give, not without getting something in return. If he was to be stuck playing her game, he'd tweak the rules to fit his liking.

Like she expected, he follows behind her like a shadow. Little does he know, but Mauja wouldn’t exactly be the first to cave in to her shameless flirting. Keahi is an impulsive creature, doing whatever she feels for in the moment, with less thought on the consequences. As they stride forward, the sun peers through the canopy of treetops above, small orbs of light dancing over her polished hide. One moment, her face is cloaked in shadow, the next light reflects in the emerald depths of her amber-flecked eyes, seemingly ever changing her expression. He does not yield the information that she requests, and it pulls her lips into a sultry smirk; he is smart. She likes them smart, it is so much more fun when you have to put a bit of effort into the game. In return, he puts forward his own demand, and she raises and eyebrow. He must be used to be the one in charge it seems; but so is she. “I have been called many things. My name is whatever you want it to be, Mauja,” she sings, silky soft tones drifting across the air between them. She already knows that he will not be satisfied with such an answer, that he will demand to know more. But one is a poor seductress, if one puts everything on the table and sheds all of one’s seven veils at once. A bit of mystery, a quest for the imagination is so much more tantalizing.

She had him in her might; one lingering glance of her flaming orbs gave him away. His mind was unwilling yet, but his body was trying to convince him otherwise. Sure it was control that she was after, but not humiliation, merely amusement. A little fun and games to pass some time, and Mauja could prove very useful to her, as a guide and a native who could provide her with information of the land. “I can smell ash, woods and salt sea on your skin, Mauja. What do you call your home? Do you keep a special place as your kingdom?” she inquires hushed and melodic, hoping to draw him closer by lowering her voice. “Do you have a family there? Children perhaps, and a special queen of your heart, no doubt,” she says, knowing that she can tease him in this way, that his good manners won’t stand ignoring all of her questions and teasing prods. In the end, Keahi is willing to bargain; in return for the information she needs, she will feed him with what he yearns to know, and she will tell him what he wants to hear. Will she speak the truth? Perhaps, as long as the truth is more comfortable than the lie. The ebon vix has poor experience with letting anyone know too much about you, but the advantage of migrating into a foreign land, is that you can be whoever you please. Who did she feel like today? We will see.

It was like moths and flames. Irresistibly drawn, yet doom lay at the source - fly in, and you burn your wings off, and fall into the soft wax just beneath the flame. No way out, nothing to do but let your blood start boiling as darkness closes in. He knew that nothing good could come of following her, and yet he didn't want to stop, didn't want to disappear into the hot interior of the forest. He knew also that once away from her, he would not miss her; there was no bond, no connection. Yet he lingered, stupidly, dumbly, beast-like but composed. It frustrated him to no end. And to make it worse, she refused to give her name. Whatever I want it to be. You've only got yourself to blame. Frustrated, with himself and her for continuing to tease, he growled out the first degrading word that came to mind: "Skækja." It was a lowly thing to call her, but it gave his anger some justification, made it easier to create distance if he called her a scum. Hopefully she didn't know his native tongue, wouldn't know what it meant. But if she did, she'd learn just how much he "enjoyed" playing this kind of game. In other words, not at all.

And instead of sticking to her question, and his ultimatum, she just changed tack. Different questions, same answers; worm it out of him instead of have him tell it outright. "I'd be concerned with your sense of smell if you couldn't," he told her in yet another growl, clearly still warring with himself. What was the harm in seeing what she wanted? The harm was losing control - being humiliated. He had to keep her at an arm's length, to keep it from happening, and now that he'd given her a fitting name, since she didn't want to reveal her true one, he could tell her things. At least, he guessed so; let her nickname be his own sweet secret. He strangled another shudder, let out a tired sigh, and gave his head a quick shake. "I see through what you're doing, Skækja. The same question, but different phrasing, different ways of finding it out." He narrowed his eyes at her, involuntarily watching the play of sunlight across her slick, sweaty hide. It caught the hidden glints of amber in her emerald eyes, setting them off like gold on the bottom of a green brook - the most insane metaphor ever, and testament to his sometime lack of romantic skills.

"But since you're so insistent... I live at the Edge of the World, by the sea. The Sun God burned part of our forest down in a fit of rage, hence the ever-present scent of ash." He let his gaze go to hers again, ears turning to catch the sound of her sultry voice, the fiendish purr which lured him even closer. In a fit of vengeance, he allowed his shoulder to brush against her hip, but a little too roughly to be entirely flirtatious. How about he lure her in and leave her wanting but not getting? It'd certainly be a soothing balm on his confused mind, a satisfactory type of childish revenge. "I am beholden to no one," he answered her in a drawl, feeling more at ease now that he'd made up his mind to play along. It would come down to his body not betraying him, and it sure as hell was a risk he was taking, but for some reason he felt confident enough to take it all the same. No point telling her about Snö and Psyche just yet; Snö was back, and the apple of his eye, but Psyche remained loose in the wild lands beyond Helovia. She had been his favorite mare, and once nearly the Queen of his Edge, but she had turned back on her own word of being different and disappeared without a reason or proper goodbyes. She was nothing but Queen of empty promises and a scar, a slash of black across his white marble heart. He had begun to trust, but had been proven wrong in his judgment. How hard would it be to dare trust d'Artagnan, Kou, Aurelius, and whoever else he wanted as confidants now?

They were worries for another day. Now, he had a seductive mare and a treacherous body to deal with.

He might not miss her, but his body will. She feels his frustration, his aggravation, and it pleases her. He is exactly where she wants him to be, on the verge of walking away but staying because his most primitive instincts will not let him take his eyes off of her. He does find a name for her, foreign sounding in her ears, but judging by his growling it is not a flattering one. Whatever it does mean, Keahi is sure she has heard worse, so she merely curls her lips in another of her sly smiles. “Skækja. It doesn’t mean ‘fair maiden’, does it?” she speaks in her finely accented tones, stepping gracefully around a stump. His voice is growling still, sharp words lashing at her ears with venom, but she merely smiles and shrugs her shoulder at his aggression. Another cheeky provocation, not letting his anger get to her, as he hopes it will. If he wants to join her little game, he better be prepared, for he is up against one of the best. Years of experience are hid under that sultry mask of hers, a story that may never be unveiled.

He tells her that he has figured her out, and she laughs softly, almost girlishly. Keahi wants her answers, and she will snake her way to them with all her wits. Just as she thinks he will have to be presented with the same questions one more time, he decides to answer them anyway, much to her unconcealed pleasure. It worked, didn’t it Mauja? Like a hungry cat, she watches him under heavy, black lashes and swallows every last word that spills over those lips. The mention of the Sun God almost breaches her visage into a smile, but she carefully holds her face the same, realizing it may be inappropriate to smile when someone tells you their home burned down. “It pains me to hear, I hope no one was hurt,” she says, false concern in her voice perfectly disguised by her deceitful ways. She has turned her eyes away from him, so he may not see the lack of sympathy within them; of course, she didn’t deliberately wish anyone pain, but she figured the Sun God would have his reasons to punish them.

There is a change in him suddenly, and it does not escape her attention. He presses his shoulder against her boney hip; Keahi can almost feel the blood flowing through him, hot and uneasy in character. She rubs back against him, not at all fazed by his behavior. Little does he know, she prefers the rough treatment to sweet-talking, and she knows that when he is playing along, she will have to tread even more carefully. He rejects her idea that he has a mate, and she is slightly surprised; his unwilling act moments before had her thinking he must have a missus at home. But his conscience is clean in that department, obviously. Normally, knowing something like that would’ve taken some of the fun out of the hunt, but he has intrigued her, and she is not yet ready to let go of such a juicy bone. “That makes two of us,” she says plainly, not giving away any more information than he had. It was hardly a surprise; wanderers such as herself rarely had a mate tagging along.

They come across a small stream, and she halts by its bank to quench her thirst. Her back is turned to the white stallion, she is not threatened by him, and she dips her soft maw into the lukewarm water. Even here, under the shade of the trees, the sun has got the upper hand. She drinks in quiet, for a moment she looks like she has forgotten that he is even there, but make no mistake. As she raises her skull, she looks to Mauja again, silvery droplets of water dripping from her black kissers. “But surely, the World’s Edge is not the single kingdom within Helovia,” she says, moving closer to him, her muzzle brushing against his nape, wiping away a bit of grime to reveal the ivory underneath. “I will want to know more, before deciding if Helovia is a desirable home. So, ask your questions, Mauja. I will answer yours if you do mine,” she sings in a playful voice, snapping out at his withers and swinging nimbly out of his reach. We will see if the answers he has been promised are truthful on not.

"No," he growled, acknowledging her correct conclusion. Skækja was not that pretty a word, but it felt better than hóra - but it was just two sides of the same coin, but he wasn't about to tell her that either. He could call her a thousand things in his mind, and his body would agree. She was classy and obviously didn't play for that kind of gain. He clung to his decision of her motives: she was just toying, didn't want anything but to get him all riled up. Power. Over him. Over his body. Damn, why had he been born a stallion? Normally he didn't mind, but something that was hard to deny, and even harder to fight, was his hormones. It was like having an enemy inside your body, one you couldn't toss out, and not always defeat. He growled under his breath, hoping his willpower would remain strong enough to defeat his body, even if he lulled it into thinking it was okay to be like this. He still blamed it on the fact that sweat covered her body and made it shine with a healthy glow despite her obvious skinniness.

He just shrugged at her when she commented on the Sun's stupidity, and since she veiled her true emotions and even turned her dainty head aside he was none the wiser to what passed through that skull of hers. Mauja had no desire to talk about it, either. It had happened, they had survived, end of story. His white tail slapped against his warm flanks, stinging where they landed. Pain was a good focus, a good means of control. He would have to dose it carefully, so it didn't lose its sting.

She seemed pleased by his shift in demeanor, swinging her hip his way to return the rough bump. He couldn't keep himself from giving her wither a rough nip, half warning half tease, but his jaws were strong and he didn't bother with moderating its force. A disturbingly large portion of him wanted to inflict pain on her, turn the tables, take control, but he fought it down. He didn't need a bloodbath. And it wasn't a surprise that she didn't harken to anyone either - if she'd had a mate in tow, he would've pitied him. That both their consciences were clean, that neither was cheating, hardly made the situation any better for Mauja. He hadn't been concerned with her morality in the first place anyway, and wasn't about to start now. So silence was, yet again, the only answer she got. Her long legs stopped by a stream, one of the few that weren't dried up. He knew it from his many travels here, knew that it was but a stale mockery of its former size. To drink its lukewarm waters would only be to mock his thirst, and instead he draped his head across her hips in a claiming gesture. Let her think him bound. Let her think him defeated. And let him deny the thrill her warm, moist body sent through him when they touched.

But all too soon - or, if you're sensible, much too late - she slid out from under his chin, turning to brush her black velvet muzzle against his own body. The water which still stained her lips brushed some of the dust off him, revealing a flash of alabaster white, like a wound in his armor of grit. Ask your questions she said and he snorted. To what avail? She had refused to give her true name, and he'd forced a demeaning one onto her. What insurance did he have that she'd not step around his questions again, or that she'd even tell him the truth? If he was a wandering courtesan who wrapped stallions around his hoof, he'd sure as hell not go about spilling the truth of things. "Questions," he scoffed. His own moral code would keep him from lying, but he had no desire to listen to her lies. "Whatever I ask, you'll answer what you'll please, and I'll be none the wiser to who you really are. So just fuck my questions." He snorted again, reaching out to give her wither another rough bite. "North of here is the Windtossed Foothills, under lead of an idiot and her poor, less idiotic man. Mixed herd. To the south, Dragon's Throat, under lead of a suspicious, socially lacking mare. Mostly pegasus, but mixed too. Further north is a tundra, west is a barren meadow..." He shrugged, his voice having little inflection when he spoke of mixed herds but carrying a healthy amount of scorn for the leaders, except for poor Indy. How he put up with that mad woman of his Mauja had no idea, because if it had been his wife, he would've pushed her off the Edge a long time ago and been done with it.

No, wait - she'd never have become his wife in the first place.

She merely nods at his confirmation of what she already knows. So Skækja can rightfully be added to the growing list of demeaning names that she has picked up along the way. Though this one is certainly in the more exotic department. His bites are received with muffled squeals, half pain and half pleasure; lobes point backwards and tail flickers, but compared to the strength of his nips, her reaction is miniscule. His teeth are on the verge of breaking her skin, but instead they leave a sore bruise that she will surely get to feel for the days to come. As he drapes his nape over her rump, she smiles to herself; let him think what he wants, but own her he never will. He speaks again and the words that come from him makes her chuckle."Clever boy," she purrs shamelessly, neglecting to move out of the way as his teeth come her way once again. This time, she feels a small dribble of crimson creeping down over her skin, a sharp contrast to the sleek obsidian, yet she does not flinch.

Her lobes point in his direction while he is speaking, considering the information that he is offering. Keahi is certain that he speaks the truth, for he seems like an honest being, much unlike herself. Honesty and moral are two very foreign things in Keahi’s world. Her curiosity is awakened, for she quickly notices how harsh he is in his choice of words, something she finds quite amusing. "So scornful, Mauja. You do not give them much credit," she speaks quietly, her eyes turning back to his, emerald fire burning in their depths. She wonders what he will say of her when she is not there, if he will mention her to anyone at all. It doesn’t really matter, but it is a fun thought. Keahi has gotten what she wanted from him, and at this point she would normally part ways, but Mauja is too entertaining to leave just yet. Arching her long, slender nape, she breathes a gust of warm air in Mauja’s nostrils. "And what spiteful words will you speak of me when I’ve turned my back, I wonder," she sings to him, prodding his valiant morality teasingly.

She decides that it is time to become a little more intimate. She wants to see just how much she can get out of him, how close she can go before he will slap her in the face. "What is it that you want, Mauja?," she asks innocently, though from her steamy glance, there is no mistaking what the she-wolf means. It is a peculiar question, but seeing as he was the one who approached her, she can find an excuse. The sleazy aspect of it, though rather obvious, is still a matter of interpretation. If he thinks she will come home with him now, he is about to have a surprise. Brushing her shoulder against his, blood is transferred from the small stream running down from her nape, leaving a dark red smear on the grimy white. She smiles, moving past him in a playful trot, dancing out of reach and aptly placing her feet so that she will not stumble. The heat is rather humid, thunder in the air, but it doesn’t seem to have an effect on the ebon vix as she moves across the forest floor. A glance is thrown over her shoulder, hoping to see him follow despite the warmth; nothing as appropriate as a little chase to get the juices flowing.

[OOC: Keahi is a sleaze. Sorry <3]

Her blood tasted too good, copper stains on his worn, blunt teeth - salt and iron rolled around in his mouth, and he swallowed it quickly, trying to deny the thrill of sadistic pleasure going through him. It had nearly been easier when it was just she playing, and not he playing along; the little hard nips didn't do anything to soothe his mind, but rather the opposite, and he growled under his breath. Not that he had much of a breath to speak of... It took conscious effort to keep himself from breathing rapidly. Deep. Steady. Even. Yet each breath quivered with the effort of holding it in his lungs. The beast inside clamored, but it didn't understand the fact that nothing would happen - it believed it had a right, that it would be given, didn't understand the rules of humiliation. "They don't deserve anything else," he hissed, aware that she could just run to them and tattle. Perhaps she would, perhaps she wouldn't. Did he care? Not right now. Later? Certainly. Right now, it took all of his power to keep himself in check, and what nonsense he spouted when aroused could be disregarded as.. uhm, okay, maybe not stallion pride, since it wasn't Indy he was slurring. Damn.

"Wonder on," he said, harshly. In an effort to relax, he forced out a sigh. She rubbed up against him and absentmindedly he moved against her, friction warming his shoulder and sending yet another thrill through him. He doubted he'd say anything at all about her, or how close he was to losing control and trying something here and now; instead, he caught a strand of her mane between his teeth, clamping down hard on it. Focus, he tried to tell himself as he gave it a playful tug, before shaking his head and letting it go. She was a mare, she had a certain scent, a certain sway to her movements - and she knew what it did to stallions, unlike the way Lotus invaded your senses. The latter didn't seem aware of it sometimes; this one, she knew, she played. The longer he stayed, the longer he'd be at a risk of failing, losing, and he'd already fallen too far into her trap. Each second and his control waned, nerves screaming louder. She'd more or less given away that he'd learn nothing from her, and he'd told her some basics of Helovia. Fair trade. "Hmmm..." he sighed, reining in himself and absently rubbing his cheek against her bony shoulder. It was time for his one and only strike, and then for the curtain to fall.

"I think it's quite hot in here... And I think it's because of you, darling," he purred. Deep inside his icy soul the power lay, simply waiting for a touch of his feral mind; it was a thing of darkness, a gift granted by the Moon. With a rush and thrust of his thoughts, crystals erupted in her blood stream, cold and sharp, sliding through her veins. It'd bring a sensation of cool, and later a deeply seated chill, and in the thinner passages, pain, as the tiny edges sliced away at the walls of her blood vessels. The stiller she was, the lesser the pain; the more she moved, the faster the crystals would pump through her blood and make tiny, tiny cuts. "Enjoy the chill," he said with a smirk, before forcefully turning his back on her and sauntering off through the trees. Distance would lessen the bond to her blood, and allow the crystals to melt - so for her sake, Mauja hoped she wouldn't stalk him. Still, it took effort to walk away from her. His body screamed at him to stop, turn back, do a certain something, but he wasn't about to give in and listen. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he shut his eyes tightly and broke into a run, releasing shuddering breaths and trying to clear her intoxicating scent from his mind.

Damn all mares.

He is on the verge, she knows it very well, but she has to push on. His breath is the first giveaway, how he struggles with it and tries to look unaffected, while his entire body is screaming for her. His words are still harsh in their tone, and as he bites down on her tresses, she winches slightly. She stops, for she does not want a bald spot, and soon enough he lets go. Her eyes turn to his and see that he is lost in thought for a moment, but as he returns to the present, it is not a pleasant sight that she finds in those icy blues. Keahi is not often frightened, but this time she steps away from him with alertness in her eyes. But it is too late, she realizes as he speaks, and whatever comes next she cannot run from it, even if she tries.

The cold is excruciating, drilling through marrow and bone, immediately freezing her movement. Her jaws slam shut and she only manages a startled grunt. Then comes the pain, like a red blur consuming her with every beat of her heart. In that moment, she is completely consumed, senses shutting off to protect her from shock. The ebon vix doesn’t even notice the pale stag as he takes his leave, even less his parting words. She drops to the ground, legs too weak to stand, and she lies still with her eyes shut. For a while she stays like this, for how long she doesn’t know, but when she wakes, Mauja is long gone. Staggering to her feet, she feels blood spill from her nose and ears, tiny streams painting horrifying crimson figures on her face. Then rage takes over where there was pain, and she raises her skull to the sky, a banshee’s wail emitting from her throat. He will pay for this.

Slowly but surely, she moves, not following the pale stag, but with an entirely different aim in mind. She will make sure that he regrets ever attacking her. Eye for an eye, Mauja. Never forget.