Veiled in shining silk, the quiet grey slipped between the old wood of the Threshold forest, quite nearer to the eastern borderline then normally she might. The air embracing her slow, deliberate passage was warm and humid though dawn had barely parted the dim shadow of night; drawing across the dappled canvas, well hidden beneath her light-weight cloak, was a heavy, steamy sweat. Pale yellow eyes roved tirelessly through the vegetation surrounding; and so too did her second pair, the young Zephyr's, ever watchful as his beloved travelled. There was vulnerability in disability, and weakness surrounding one whose soul held no vehement vibe; of this both were grimly aware. The one-winged Pegasus had by now mastered the art of subtlety, stepping only upon the cushioning tufts that would leave no hint of her presence and moving aside from any trail; any worn path which might be lure the lazy predator.

It was not often that she was so cautious in her questing, but with recent events; unprovoked attacks and such right in this very wilderness still fresh in her mind, Africa chose to stay highly attuned to the world around. Short, shallow breaths tested the air suddenly and her face was lifted in the same moment so that soundlessly fluttering nostrils might be granted better access. Few travelled so deeply into the Threshold in this direction- the tracks and signs of equines passing through into the east were few and far between, so when the thick lingering hue of a stallion grew denser than the rest, the young mare paused to consider it- thoroughly.

It failed to rouse dancing, indissoluble memories- was not owned by someone who she was able to readily place upon a familiar face. Instead, she found her face lowering intently; dabbling lips dissecting the thick dead mat of pine and leaves for the more recent track of this stranger. Africa searched at length, long and hard, but lifted again with wide narrowing eyes, empty handed. Curiously she turned in place, swinging her forequarters gracefully, swiftly so that the long tresses of mane across her sweaty neck flapped wildly. Sliding forwards then slowly, she stepped into the open corridor that lead in a loose, south westerly direction- inevitably funnelling those unsuspecting travellers into the centre of the Threshold; where, they may or may not be granted the choice to choose their fate.

She did not linger in the raw openness path, instead crossing in only two surefooted strides before sinking into the shabby undergrowth of the opposite side. There the stranger's scent grew, and she began to hunt for him again.

It was Silas who found the rummy-nosed stallion first, his raptor-eyes and immaculate memory recalling easily the role he had placed by the cliffs under World's Edge; he had warded off the ravenous stallion who seemed intent on destroying the last of Africa's hope; driving her to death. A low rumble peeled through the heavy, still air and his raven-black form swept from its perch upon the slippery silk cloak sheathing his beloved's back. Effortlessly the avian slipped between branches, guiding the grey mare to her goal; alighting in the naked bough of a very old oak- and he glanced down on the Unicorn through one, shining black eye.

Africa followed the zephyr quickly and obligingly, never unappreciative of his ability and aide. Before long, she was slowing beneath the opposite reach of the old trees canopy (that which now housed her bonded), peering across at the recognizable face of one she knew from long, long ago- a different lifetime she thought broodingly. "You're Voodoo…" She whispered carelessly, holding the breath which followed as though its rush might accidentally scatter the illusion before her. "I know you. I'm Africa- do you remember?" She wanted to fold into him, to bury herself in the fond memories which they shared, but as her pale honey eyes travelled about his ridged exterior, she began to question herself. He no longer presented as the rash colt in her past; his face creased with maturity, the expression upon it cold and distant. A bubble caught in the base of her throat, a question- a flood of questions. "Are you alright? Why are you in the Threshold?" It was painfully obvious that he was not searching like she, his posture was stiff, perhaps having been in the same spot for many hours- and a recruiter did not often break for long periods.

Africa broke through the shackles of her reservation and stepped close in front of him, stretching her long muscular neck forward as far as she could to brush her nose by his; where it was, tucked aloofly against his dark breast.

Tender, wondering eyes waded through the new body of indifference; unfeelingness which rose like an impassable river before his scarlet-red eyes. She was concerned, undoubtedly, and even as the low murmur of recognition, through a detached voice spilt from his blood-drenched lips Africa found little comfort there, standing by someone who had been changed through the torture of time. She could not have hoped to guess what had numbed her friend's soul so terribly; not presume to understand the method which lurked behind the barrier before him. Desperately though, the young Oracle wanted to reach out to him, to reconnect with him and to find that well hidden heart which she truly did care so much for.

Silas stirred in the tree above, shifting his slight weight awkwardly- moved by the unsettled leak of emotion through the hot, beating mood of his beloved. It was not something he had expected, nor something that he was overly thrilled to experience. For a long while Africa had not suffered, and he squirmed uneasily at the prospect of her inner turmoil reigniting.

Voodoo recoiled from her touch, and they sensitive young grey could not deny the wrench which churned her stomach in that moment. His balk was perhaps something she had been expecting, but in no way was she prepared for the ruthlessness of his rejection. Shyly she too drew back, tucking her nose close against the steaming flesh of her own chest; long dark lashes closing quickly and tightly around devastated eyes; retreating with muffled and sliding steps through the forest litter.
When again they parted (hesitantly), the brightness of day flooding through, Africa was startled to find a white maiden standing with the stallion and the breath choked in her throat, provoking a cough of sorts to evade clenched teeth. Africa had noticed no sign or sound of the eerie strangers approach; it was as though a ghost had settled beside him, and she could feel the sudden outrage form explosively in the core of her companion. An angry raptor cry peeled through the air, and the grey's long ears balanced uncertainly backwards, quivering as her face rose as far from the specter like creature as she could manage.

As it released its own blood-curdling screech at that moment and before the Zephyr had a chance to swing down to defend the pair, another bird- enormous; far larger than he, fell with ravenous claws towards the intruder. Again Silas cried in anger, fluttering forward should either creature dare strike at Africa, but they did not. Both lifted into the air, the white creature's head slumped down morbidly as it was carried away, gripped tightly by the throat. Riled, the raven-bird swept after the predator and its prey in a blaze of shimmering starlight.

As silence finally fell upon the grave meeting below, Africa's horror filled eyes sought Voodoo's. The stallion muttered something beneath his breath, though the one-winged mare's ears could only fathom the frightened pulse which throbbed through her mind. The Threshold had become something unfamiliar to Africa. Once she had been free to play and scavenge through the old, woody wilderness without care or thought; the faces who had crossed her path were seldom threatening. Now however, she seemed to fall upon these foul situations too regularly- crazed mares, crude stallions, flailing magic and death and destruction. A cold shiver crawled the length of her short spine, though still the warmth of the day was intense, and the feeble-hearted mare swayed indecisively in place.
She could not part with Voodoo like this; could not abandon a friend, though she wished deeply for the comfort and security of her homeland right then.

"What are you going to do?" she asked suddenly, her voice still trembling while her frayed nerves still arced violently through her slim, elegant frame. "I don't want to leave you." Africa admitted, failing to meet his eye as her own drifted timidly downwards to sprawl in a puddle across the ground. She wanted to bring him home; to look after him and more than anything rebuild the friendship which had been but a malnourished runt.


Tagged: @[Voodoo]

Deep in the furthest and darkest recesses of her whirling mind Africa knew this could end in heartbreak- for many more reasons than she wished to consider. Theirs had been a forbidden friendship right from the start, their families at war; her heart bitter with confusion and emotional turmoil. Although it had never truly been uttered, she knew the grounds he called home; his coat was not like those she dwelt with in the desert, nor like any who came from grass or forest. Maybe, if the word Basin never slipped across either tongue, she possibly had believed so long ago, treason could not have been committed; a plea of ignorance, no matter how farfetched.

Right now, as her kindly gaze embraced him, Africa began to tremble both for the spark which reignited in her heart, and for the bank of wrongdoings she had collected against the better judgement of her home; the ever expanding list of horrible secrets that weighed so heavily across her young, brazen shoulders. “He, is my friend...” She scolded herself in private, shaking away literally, the ambush of self-condemnation as it began to bubble through her thoughts; like the flimsy, half-built relationship was a fair excuse to betray the ones she loved, again. “Voodoo was trapped in that pit. The Throat is a refuge for the lost and the lonely. He too can belong...” She furthered her plight a little more aggressively- desperately, the sound of her voice echoing brutally through the silence in her ears. Africa blinked apprehensively, trying to conceal the flaring argument from the paused and waiting stallion before her.

A curt laugh fell from his rattling nostrils then, and the young grey’s eyes leapt upwards to find his gaze wandering across her naked shoulder- undoubtedly, she thought with a soft sigh, absorbing the shining pink scar. As he asked about it, Africa took a wary breath and a confronted rawness gathered through the beige gloss of her torn stare. “The Basin...” She revealed quickly, with such a hushed tone that should a breeze have swept through at that exact time, the words might have never made their mark. The one-winged Oracle had not spoken of the torture and torment of her captivity there at all, to anyone; she had not the faith in herself to reveal such a tale of terror, nor the confidence to believe that her infidelity would be forgiven. She did not reveal how, or why the wing had been lost- or the reason for her being in that territory to begin with. The revelation was all she could stomach this time, and the hollowness which had overwhelmed her expression lifted into a half-hearted smile; pain choked by willpower.

Right after he spoke next (suggesting to part from the stench of the Threshold), Africa’s voice again slipped as a tender breath towards her long lost friend- she had indulged his curiosity, if that’s what had compelled him to ask about her recent disablement, and now it was her turn. “Why did you leave?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as the invasion passed briefly through her mind. She hoped that all ties had been broken; that honesty might blossom into his shifting expression and that if she were to gift to him her trust right now, that he would nurture it and not let it burn. So many mistakes she had made and now, as the fragments of her shattered life began to mend back into something wonderful, a curve ball like this was thrown headlong towards her. She held her breath in waiting, silently begging for the right words to fall upon her quivering, reaching ears.

Voodoo’s nose had inched forward, crossed the line which had been etched between them so suddenly, and Africa’s eyes closed shyly in response. Flared nostrils soaked willingly the scent of his closeness, and her heart began to pound with nervous tension- the stallion’s lips touched her hot, sleek hide, just beneath the wavering of her ear. It was a feeling she had not before met; never had she let another come so intimately close, and though she was terrified of the choking emotion that engulfed her body; not prepared or quite willing for the surge of affection that leaked from that nuzzle, the grey was so glad to have found the grulla Unicorn again.


“thinking” | “speaking”
Tagged: @[Voodoo]

The day was growing so warm, and even while she was partly sheltered by the sparse pine canopy above, Africa felt the wave of weariness pressing through long-suffering limbs. Perhaps her reasons for willing Voodoo and herself from the exposure of the redwood forest differed considerably from the red-tinged stallion who she felt so dearly about; he was not so defenceless, so unsettled by the strange violence which they had involuntarily witnessed. She had sought comfort from no other in this callous world, though many had wondered aloud about the drastic changes in her brittle nature; and the state of her figure, easily holding her own against the prying eyes of strangers and family alike. Voodoo was different though, she felt a staunch connection and warmth whenever he was near. He was the dry-minded colt that had refused to play with her; that had turned tune and touched her heart.

The stallion moved from her again, but there was no gaping canyon of heartlessness or despair to fill it this time. Only tenderness flooded the space dividing their bodies, and Africa listened attentively as his voice offered to her the answer. The reason did not immediately make sense and her face tilted to the side as she fell into thought, trying to rationalise just exactly what Voodoo had meant. She was no longer the foolish babe of yesteryear; dancing to music unheard and blissfully unaware of the truth in the world. She had become a thinker, curious and deliberate in her method; calculating always and vastly perceptive- in tune to those lives churning around her. "You don't need to be stable by my side." She cooed devotedly towards him, stepping forward to butt playfully against his rose-red nose, before turning gracefully to guide him away.

Africa wanted to nurture him, to tend and support him- not at all in the same way she cared for the young pupils aspiring beneath her. It was more, almost as powerful as the burning passion which bound herself to Silas, and he to her. The shrewd creature could read in the flinching lines of his body that his agitation was stewing. "Where do you want to go?" She asked quietly without turning to find his following bulk- she had no reason to doubt he would lag. "Will you come home with me?" The one-winged girl did not burst forth with all the reasons in the world for which the desert would suit him- she wasn't certain it would; was undecided as to whether his previous ties would be recognised. It was worth a try though she thought pensively to herself. With her, Voodoo would be safe and well (considering), and there were areas which were less visited than others. For a moment her eyes blinked closed and she waited with pressed lips to hear his reply.


(Ooc: Wherever he decides to go with her is where I will post my next reply <333 ooooh I missed you both so much :D)
Tagged: @[Voodoo]