Her gait was choppy and without the usual elegance that blossomed from a lovely Andalusian heritage, and hooves slipped clumsily through slippery sand, her mind distant to the rolling landscape which she crossed. Africa was utterly exhausted, mentally and physically; her spirit sapped by guilt and fear, a mushroom cloud that never seemed to diminish from her life; energy drained by the relentless heat of summer and the gravity cursed journey from north to south without pause. She was more than relieved to find the clear wash of blue sky above dulling into sombre twilight, the shade cast upon the blazing desert offering respite from the cruel sun. Pale, creamy eyes were shot with red as she scrambled onwards into the depths of her unsuspecting home, and they scouted- no matter how vaguely, the area around her for the movement of her clan.

She wanted so dreadfully to do the right thing by those who had always offered her naught but grace and kindness; to find somewhere within the timid fractions of her heart, courage and morality. Africa was not a liar- though more and more secrets she seemed to need to hoard away. It was for the good of the herd, right? This time though, her actions; her foolish, selfish gesture (even though the driving intention was entirely the opposite), was not something that could be concealed- it wasn’t something that should be hidden. Even if the thought had been a serious consideration, too many strings in the sticky web had the potential to unravel and fray around her- it was not the answer.

A familiar silhouette came into view, climbing through the sand in her direction- towards Voodoo who she had left by the sea. His painted form struck sudden and wild fear through her heart, and she hesitated and stumbled forward through a wave of shimmery sand. Midas had seen her, diverting his way- no matter how slightly, so that their paths would collide. Any other time, Africa would have been undisguisably delighted to see him, but as he drew nearer; closing the dimming space, she held her breath and waited uneasily. Quickly, she forced a smile- her trademark she thought, that would hopefully conceal the tension brewing within, into her expression. “It is a nice evening Midas…” She answered with an unusual dullness to her soft voice as their noses bumped tenderly. It could not be helped- Africa was not an actress; her heart was quite transparent, and her manner much the same. She would have made a terrible spy. Already her heart was sinking into the grizzly depths of her chest; the golden eyed stallion was so much more to her than the head of their herd- he was a fatherly figure whom she could not deny respect, and theirs was an ever growing friendship which she adored.

She imagined Midas to be the purest of characters; warmth always spilled from his presence; his record must have been impeccable and as clean and healthy as the first flakes of Frostfall’s snow. Such a character could do no wrong. She squirmed nervously across restless, tired legs.

“I bring both news to please and some which I fear will not be so well received. I will start with the better, I think.” Africa’s eyes danced awkwardly between his pupil-less gaze, unable to find the regular mirth inside herself that might have helped her through the moments to come; instead her face wilted with the fading light.

“I have met a stallion from the Foothills, Solace. He was gentle and well-mannered, and I realise how wrong I was to judge his herd. Their reputation was tarnished by some, but he is not like that status paints. I quite liked him. I extended to him an invitation to visit us should he ever travel so far south, I hope this is alright.”

She drew a long breath then, pausing naturally to allow the Sultan to offer his insight. Truly the young mare did not want to continue; she wanted right then for the still-warm sand to rise around her and swallow her away from the trouble which unfortunately seemed so determined to haunt her footsteps. It did not though, and the time soon arrived for her to face the consequences of her actions. Grimly, her eyes fell away from his.

“I have brought from the Threshold a Unicorn. He has recently escaped the Basin.” She stopped broodingly, and debated whether to add that Voodoo had never sworn himself to their malicious, wicked cause. She thought in the scheme of what she had done already by bringing him inside the wall, something so trivial would hold little merit. “He was not a part of the invasion- I fear his ailing-mind was not aware of the cult surrounding him.” They were not excuses; she knew they were truths and although her tone was torn by worry for the situation unfolding as a whole dark cloud upon her world, she spoke honestly to Midas. “Voodoo is my closest friend- my body and my life were broken by the Basin, I understand that they are not to be trusted- I realise they are our sworn enemy. But he was never one of them…” she was not going to cry- her heart had been hardened by the brutality of her experiences; the stewing emotion was forced down. There were no more tears to shed.

“Voodoo has proven himself to me, time and time again. He has a good heart; he has just been lost for so long. He needs a place to settle and…” ‘I was hoping you and Gaucho might offer him a chance to show his worth to you.’ Africa’s fearful eyes were flung around towards where Voodoo had been left- where Silas was waiting for her return. Surely the Unicorn stallion would never know or understand what she had done for his sake.


(ooc: Thank you so much Angel, I know you are very busy <3 Skipping Voodoo with Nev’s permission this round.)