Despite the fault and uneasiness hazing through the shimmery yellow of her gentle eyes, Africa felt an instant relief having shared a portion of the burden, of her doings, with the gold-wielding stallion she valued so much. It was a confusing kaleidoscope of emotions (shades and waves churning between a complex mare and her devoted bonded); some much easier to quash, others like the overwhelming weight of infidelity, bubbled like molten lava- waiting craftily for the fissure to form. Perhaps her behaviour wasn’t so terrible like she thought, but Africa bore a good, well-meaning heart, and it tortured her to think she might in some way have impaired relations with her family- it was agony to keep secrets from them.

The dappled mare could not tell whether her brittle defence of the stallion who splashed just over the rolling dunes beyond their sight, had been understood. Midas was a clever heart- a rare and valuable combination of mind and matter that Africa held in great esteem and aspired to. His disposition, even now as she brought before him news that might have angered Kri instantly, seemed rigid; balanced and solicitous. Her eyes had returned from their vague gesture south, seeking out quietly and nervously his reaction to all that had been revealed.

His voice was like it had always been, gentle and comforting to a soul frayed by melancholy; but she could feel something different, something she couldn’t quite recognize. All of a sudden she began to fidget restlessly, touched by distantness that she had not before felt in the company of the Sultan. Eyes slipped away quickly as he finished speaking- the content of which was neither enraged nor thrilled.
As she let a long minute whisk them by, Africa wondered if Voodoo was worth the cost of jeopardising all the quality and comfort her life had become (no matter how superficial). Silently, with a sunken head, she remembered him standing there in the Threshold alone between two redwoods- not waiting for her; not waiting for anything. He was no spy… What vain fool had she become where her own luxury was worth the wellbeing of another- and a friend no less?

Charcoal ears flashed forward abruptly and her gaze followed with the same unexpectedly determined haste; Midas was not smiling, but Africa was certainly not expecting such. Carefully she sought the bottomless pools of her superior, and with firmness of her own that was ill-fitting across a face so meek and unobtrusive, the one-winged Oracle answered, “Yes, he is feral to look at, not sleek and young like I remember. There seems to be a battle behind the glaze of his eyes, he can’t hide it from me because I have seen such illness before- his mind is infected.” Shajake had been the same- though much more like a limp marionette dancing beneath the strings of his schizophrenia; the voices which blurred his conscience. For Voodoo she hoped, time was suddenly on their side. Although quiet and calculating like he appeared to be, the grulla had spoken some sense- he had expressed himself level-headedly enough to convince her.
But there was no reason to confuse what had been said already with worthless ramblings, so she kept the depth of her experiences and theories locked away for now.

“Voodoo is just by the sea.” She had hidden him away shamefully, and for that she was sorry. Already her limbs were in motion, guiding Midas through the warm spraying sand towards the impatient roar of their cherished neighbour. As they neared, Africa could see the hovering form of her treasured companion above the waves, and her heart warmed with insuperable affection.


(ooc: @[Voodoo]. I don’t think we need to tag after this, just normal posting order from now on?)