The Starry-Eyed had not realised her breath had been held in anticipation; her jaw clenched tightly together, ears straining forward hopefully. She watched him steadily with still a light smile dressing the gentle purse of her lips, and was more than relived to hear (when at last he answered), that he was comfortable enough. She understood quickly the smooth jest beneath his words and chuckled openly in response- enjoying for the first time since the Darkness, the care-free feeling of his company. She wanted to ask what truly ailed him; whether she had been right telling Midas so long ago that his mind was corrupt, his thought’s quite unbalanced. But Africa liked the way he stood cloaked with obscurity, shrouded in mystery, and she enjoyed the random nature of his friendship. They were so unalike, and though she had quirks of her own (not so dissimilar actually), she was more than fascinated, and entertained by her unusual friend.

He explained, gesturing awkwardly with rolling red eyes that his horn seemed not to fit so snugly with the Throat’s primarily winged population, and she scoffed playfully, butting her soft pink-snipped nose towards him. “You are paranoid Voodoo.” Tender eyes found themselves fallen upon the crisp white (soggy) coat of the pup by his blackened legs. “Little Ouija with her thick snow coat? She stands out in this desert.” Africa giggled confidently, feeding off the comfort she felt in the moment and snuffled affectionately, dipping her nose to brush the ground at the restless fox’s level. The mare’s sheer white forelegs remained still as the tiny creature rubbed against them before setting off, and the grey lifted her face away once more. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we are not bound to any race here- not any more. And there's another Throatling who shares markings uncannily similar to your own. You’d be amazed...” she breathed lastly, remembering with some bewilderment that Sacre was bound also to a fox.

Left alone, their conversation continued.

Her stream of questions was met with an ever expanding smile; one which seemed instantly to brighten the unremitting stain of blandness she had come rather to admire. Her pale eyes widened, stunned by the rare glimmer of expression; of excitement. He revealed then, that a son had been born to him and she remembered with a start (the realisation of the situation suddenly falling upon her, like the Throat's wall to the sea), that Aurelia had mentioned her child was his own. A momentary pang of jealously tweaked her gut, but she quashed it swiftly, swallowing hard. She held personally little favour for the ungrateful gold-touched mare who had turned on Africa’s love and care as only a child- and then imagined she might place her own brood in care after. She could feel the fine hair along her spine bristle- was Voodoo’s that same babe?

“Congratulations,” she offered promptly, not letting her distaste for the mother stand in the way of her gladness for the stallion before her. “Where is he now?” Africa continued, probing delicately despite the slight guilt building through her heart. The Starry-Eyed wasn’t certain she was ready to accommodate Aurelia in her home... her life, again. Regardless, she found instantly a non-judgemental warmth for the boy; the offspring of one so dearly treasured.