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The revelation of her pregnancy had been news unexpected and not entirely understood. Over and over since, she had been replaying the moment in her mind, bewildered, even though the question had been asked so delicately; a suggestion that seemed just as easily terrifying as it did exciting. It helped to explain though, many of the discomforts which harried her in recent months – the aches and the ridiculous swelling; the severe decline of both energy and mood.
Not long after, Midas had proposed they journey south to visit a home once shared. He had grown strong again, both in body and in mind, enough at least to juggle the diplomatic necessity that she knew had been playing on his mind for the hot season so far, and the last. Africa had begun preparations immediately – perhaps owed in part to the irrational hormones coursing throughout. She had packed her satchel to the brim with herbs (mainly grass, there were many varieties in Hidden Falls to confuse her), and planned to hand them over on arrival – to hopefully distract any immediate tension that might arise as a result of her sudden reappearance upon their shore.
On the morning, she had been a giddy mess, scattered in thought and clumsy in stride, and they concluded thoughtfully together, that she should travel beneath feathers of a parrot – a far safer, faster option than on foot. She had not really overcome the weight of guilt, the feelings of inadequacy and cowardice. But regret had been well diluted by the affections of her partner; one right to drown out the echo of everything wrong. He filled her with confidence, and though still nervousness flicked constantly across the canvas of grey puddles, the desert’s failed Sultana felt brave enough to finally face the demons from her past.
To see Satanic Silk... Perhaps.
Even before Midas had set hoof upon familiar searing sand, Africa’s light golden eye fixed incredulously upon dim turbulent waves where once rock and rubble had stood – a bridge (that she had crossed too often) which bound the Sun’s kingdom to Helovia. Dusk was upon them already, though their tardy arrival was eaily overshadowed by the strange transformation below. It isn’t there... she whispered against the ripple of white, wind-stroked feathers, though to the stallion it could only have sounded like clicks and pale avian muttering.
Silas, who circled higher still, was equally surprised.
The parrot nestled deeper into the comforting warmth of pulsing flesh, nervousness ticking to the beat of her own pounding heart, but all too soon the stallion had closed distance between heaven and earth, and she jolted as hooves found rocky desert beach. Though every inch of her wished to stall, Africa fluttered from safety and began a rapid shift to Pegasus-form with the aid of her bonded’s time bending ability. As she reacquainted with the hot, moisture-less air of Dragon’s Throat, mist-grey features turned to answer – though the smile intended was shallow and riddled with uncertainty; mirroring easily her thoughts. “I think so...”
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[O] Truth is only found at the source (Guacho, Africa)
