Like the shrewd natives who called the desert territory home, Africa had grown rather to favour and appreciate the darker hours of the repetitive cycle of time. With night came the ultimate blessing of shade; cool and revitalizing, and often accompanied by the salty wafts of crisp southern ocean air. Also though, the blackness brought peace and tranquillity which she sought always, and the ability to roam in solitude beneath the owlish glare of her bonded, unseen by the multitude who stirred with the shedding of sunlight. This night, and for the week just passed, the moon’s cool gaze had warmed and its face was swollen and heavy where it hung at half-mast in the sparkling black arc of sky. An eerie illumination was cast upon the red-gold world beneath, a half-light that was both enchanting and unsettling, and while it lingered through each meandering night sequence, Africa found little rest.

She was poised by the rolling surf where crumbling wakes broke and frothed about her steady white knees. The water had lost its summer warmth already as the breath of Jack Frost buffered its murky, orange surface, promising wickedly that a swift winter would soon befall them all. The bitter sting against warm skin was penetrating, though she remained in place motionless, gazing far out and into the blend of black blue horizon in the distance. Silas was with her, snugly nestled upon the warmth of her silk-clothed rump with scaly black talons wrapped in a jacket of midnight feathers; star-speckled and shimmering just like the embellished heavens above. The young Zephyr was not resting though either; he would not while his beloved’s heart murmured with unquenchable restlessness and disquiet. He posed silently in place as sentry instead.

Many things had happened recently; the shift of faces, of family and friends alike, and the strange return of many who had been lost through the endless night. She could not tell what unsettled her more, the sudden reappearance of infamous names (the faces of which she had mostly not seen) - of those whose histories were whispered and rumoured along the cool whisk of breeze; or those who had not returned, like Kri and Sumati, and the countless soldiers who had vanished into rippling heat of Tallsun. She sighed deeply, broodingly before her mind filled with the all-pervading worry of her friend. “So much is changing in the world…” She told him privately, closing her eyes to concentrate because the art of mind speech was still as raw as a yolk strewn hatchling. She needn’t have though, Silas was all too aware of the troubles burdening her heart and while he could not readily understand the concepts relayed to him (couldn’t properly comprehend the rambling of her wearied thoughts), the bond between them combined them; made them one.

He clacked his beak comfortingly and the thoughtful gesture forced a smile upon her weathered lips. “Thank you,” she whispered affectionately, aloud though the gentle melody of her voice was swallowed by the churn of the wild sea before her.


[For @[Satanic Silk] and any others]

satanic silk

Satanic Silk was walking in the small tide of the sea, playing with the water as it washed up around his fetlocks and cannon bones. He did not like the saltiness of the sea: it often got to places it should not and would irritate his skin. But around his legs he did not mind it, and enjoyed playing games with the water. The coolness of the tide reflected the coolness of the night that washed over him. It was a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and the moon shined down on him, welcoming him as one of her own. The sun, as much as he enjoyed the day, too often was at odds with the coloring of his body, and he frequently sought shade to relieve himself of the heat that would burden him.

Then why the hell am I living in the desert region? It was a question that begged asking. In honest, Apodis was the first one to reach out to him, and without knowing any better, Silk saw no reason to refuse the offer. He did not know many of his new herdmates. But he had met Africa, and Meraki, and of course Apodis.

As soon as he had thought her name, he saw her ahead in the distance. Africa. He looked at the roc that kept her company. And that dumb bird, too. Silk thought that the bird held a certain disliking for him, and Silk happily returned the favor. He wondered if it was always going to be like that, or if he and the flying creature could reach some sort of tender friendship.

He continues to walk toward her, keeping his wings tucked in. He had seen her one wing, and the scar that remained from where she lost the other. He did not want to offend her by using his. Instead he walked in a bit shallower water to quicken his pace, so that the sea now only hit against he base of his hoof when it washed up. He got closer, and called out her name with a soft cooing sound.

Africa He offered a simple smile for her. He'd taken a bit of a liking to her. She seemed so tender and fragile. He was sure she could take care of herself, especially with the small zephyr that kept so close. He finally reached her, and stopped a few feet away, still standing in the water. He had wanted to spend more time with her since the time by the fire - to learn more about her, her life, her story. He would never admit this interest, because he was a self-centered bastard. But interest existed all the same.

Another neared, their stride sloshing through the churn of wild surf as it broke upon the sandy expanse of the beach. Watchful eyes were turned towards the direction of the muffled stroke, their pale creamy glow intensified by the vivid glare of the round orange moon suspended above. The sound was not obtrusive, nor would the inattentive possibly have noticed it rising through the rushing spill of southerly wind- Africa did though, she was tuned thoroughly to the world spinning around her because her disability demanded such.

The eyes of the Zephyr had flicked towards the stallion also, though where his beloved’s straining eyes saw only the moonlit silhouette of a flaxen maned herd-mate, Silas noticed rapidly that it was the strange bat-winged stallion who had stumbled upon the Diviner’s firelight only a couple of nights before. Ravenous eyes, keen through the darkness of night, sought his unusual branding- the crescent moon which hugged right over his left eye, and the clean star shape in place of a Unicorn’s horn. Both were as red as freshly spilt blood. A low murmur spelt openly his disapproval that the jet stallion should approach, but his beloved was already turned to close the distance still gaping between them.

Her expression was bright and friendly as they came upon one another; it was a blatant contrast to the tension which bound their last meeting. Africa held no bitterness towards him, and no sort of disgruntled twinge soured the welcomeness of the distraction as he ceased and greeted her by name. A pleasant snuffle through trembling nares and the gracious dip of her fine, pale face towards him was returned with warm intent. “Hi Silk.” She welcomed, sweet voice smooth and soft unlike the roar of the ocean beyond.

At that moment the flutter of wings and flurried of air stirred by their movement swept over Africa’s young complexion and her ears danced backwards to meet the arrival of her unsettled bonded. As he rumbled resentfully, now perched tightly atop the curve of her rump, the dappled mare flicked her eyes playfully in his direction and soothed, “don’t mind Silas. He is the most attentive warden I've ever known.” She shrugged easily, hoping sincerely that it might ease any ill feelings felt towards her young, prickly companion- because she knew that the Zephyr meant only to defend her heart against the perils which seemed so constantly to stalk her life’s path.

satanic silk

Silk returned the dappled mare's warmth through his gaze. That is, whatever warmth could be seen in his blood red orbs. He blinked slowly, trying to soft the look. Until he looked at the zephyr - Silas. His gaze hardened, but as he looked at the mare again, he realized they had a connection that he simply did not understand. Not only did he not understand it, but it was apparent that it was a very close bond, one that would never bend or waver. He shuffled his wings a little bit, as if to bite back a snarky remark. Instead, with one lobe pinned back, he dipped his head toward the bird.

I suppose we could agree to a truce.

He turned his attention back to Africa. He realized, self-consciously, that he had many questions he wanted to ask her. He wanted to know where she was from, the full story of what happened to her, why she was here in Dragon's Throat and how long she'd been here. He wanted to know what a Diviner really did, if Gods were real. A nagging part in the back of his head scolded him for being childish and not maintaining his mental composure. Typically, Silk acted above the age of his short three years. But if he wasn't careful he was going to start showing it very soon.

He flared his nostrils and snuffled back. He stepped an inch closer. He thought through his questions and tried to decide which was the least intrusive. He'd met her once so far and didn't feel like coming on too strong. Which wasn't like him at all - he was the master of strong. Silk scratched his left foreleg with his right hoof. How long have you been in Dragon's Throat? What brought you here? He asked this one because it seemed like she had a certain connection to the herdland, and wondered if there was some special meaning there. And what brings you to the sea tonight? I thought you were one for the light and warmth of fire.

The night was cool and comfortable, always a contrast to the dull, energy sapping heat of the desert day- no matter the season surrounding. Africa gazed towards the stallion, catching only fleeting glimpses of the crimson orbs which lurked beneath their curtain of shimmery silvery, moon washed gold. The fragility between Silk and her bonded seemed to quiver and fray as foul glances were swapped disapprovingly, from one and then the other and the quiet mare wanted to chuckle at the comedy which seemed destined to play out. She had met no other like this creature whose coat shone as black as a moonless midnight hour, and he warmed her heart; forced the ricocheting apprehension stewing in her mind to steady and fade.

“I suppose we could agree to a truce.” He said and Africa couldn’t help but wonder with watching, sparkling eyes how begrudgingly it had been intended. She could feel the impatience of her Zephyr friend’s heart, the intolerance which seem spared for only the select few who really bothered him. Silk however was their kin, the Pegasus stallion was to stay whether the avian cared for the fact or not. The pragmatic mare offered him the thoughts prudently and matter-of-factly through blunt flashes of her mind, and added too, the offer of Silk’s “Truce?” though it sounded more sincere and definitive through their unyielding bond.

The reply was an aggrieved acceptance- and much the same way Africa had done for Silk, she readily interpreted into something more genuine. “Silas agrees.”

With the diplomacies and bitterness of unspoken presumptions cleared from their midst, the dappled Oracle drew a long breath, smiled and rocked the bulk of her weight left beneath the avian to rest her hind hoof at a lazy tilt in the sand. Tender, unassuming eyes drifted out from beneath the waves of her own long, thick forelock and she tilted her face gently to help its tumble aside. She thought idly as she waited through the lingering silence that he seemed hesitant, restrained- like he wanted to say something but the words were barred behind closed teeth. When at last he did, she answered effortlessly and gracefully.

“I’ve been here for five seasons. Midas collected me from the Threshold when I first stumbled into Helovia, and the Throat has been my comfortable bed since.” Dozens of faces had passed through their core since, though few offered commitment and honour- the vast majority had vanished both from the desert territory, and Helovia itself. She figured those who had been lost to the sand-blown winds of time were a small loss, and that those who rooted themselves into the herd were of far greater value. Before he spoke again she offered a query of her own, and pastel eyes focused hard and carefully; hoping that the answer would be yes. “Will you stay?”

The topic withered with the melting waves breaking around their hooves- the tide was rising to meet the full face of the moon, and already Africa was standing inches deeper. Silk spoke again and she appreciated the fluidity; the way he seemed so easily to socialise. For her, the skill ha only come relatively recently- for the most part it had begun as a cunning disguise of courage and confidence, but down through the channels of her soul she was still the meek insecure creature which shied from confrontation and… Unicorns… “A crafter cannot always bend the metals of this world.” She answered cryptically, shoving towards him an overly playful nudge. “I celebrate the spirit of the flame because it is my role in this herd- it is as new to me as this cool change of Orangemoon is to our home.” Africa felt a strange ease in the company of the stallion who had previously unsettled her with brash mannerisms and an ego that far overwhelmed her own. She relaxed with him there, forgetting almost entirely the pressures still draped about her rolling shoulders. “Actually, I quite like the peace and obscurity offered by night’s blanket. With daylight comes the hurry of life and no time to breath.”

satanic silk

Silk felt completely disoriented around this dainty lass. He couldn't figure out why he was not his normal self around her. Instead of his normal dick ass self, he was being a big softie around this one-winged vixen. He cleared his throat slightly as they conversed and tried to keep his composure. His lobes twitched back and forth as thoughts ran through his head.

Africa translated for him the zephyr's response, and he got the feeling that she was much more generous with her translations than the two of them would have been. It seemed suitable, however, and was probably for the best. He supposed the zephyr wasn't a bad sort. Silas was just.. overprotective, that was all. Silk could understand, for he could imagine it was something he could one day feel as well. One day? A voice spoke in the back of his mind. Don't be a fool, you already feel it, moron.

Africa answered his questions amiably and simply. She'd been here a decent amount of time, but shorter than he thought. That she was new to being a Diviner surprised him, and he wondered if it showed on his face. She asked him a return question, and he paused a moment before responding. He took it in, and thought about it. She nudged him, and the contact surprised him. The stallion's skin twitched where she touched him, and he lifted his crown a little, tilting his head to watch her face better.

Before answering her question, he commented upon her reply. It is your role here - did you choose it? I can't help but wonder if your own interest is necessary to be a diviner for a spirit. This deep thought came from within, reflecting from his own beliefs of what is real, what is a myth. Whether Gods and spirits existed, he wasn't sure. Silk had always been the type that needed proof before he would believe anything. A headstrong brute, he was still willing to change his mind - but sometimes he would do whatever the hell he pleased, proof or not. Especially if you prefer the darkness. He lowered his voice to a soft caress. But then, fire and darkness are such good companions.

He stepped closer to her now, so they were right next to each other, nearly touching. Silk had never had a good understanding of personal boundaries. He hesitated before speaking. I do not know yet if I will stay. I have not met this Midas. And I do not know if I will be able to abide by the rules he sets. We shall see.

Few clouds wandered the sky that night, only the flimsy wisps of white moisture which hindered little, the extravagance of the vibrant face watching over the desert. Many journeys to and from the Threshold forest in recent days, had wearied limbs unintended for the lumber of ground travel, and the gentle rush of icy salt water soothed the ache within each brave fetlock. It felt wonderful, indescribable, and Africa’s mood began to lift with the pleasant company offered and the tides which cleansed the fatigue of her dutiful body. Glowing, yellow eyes absorbed the manner of the stallion thoughtfully, and she appreciated the thoroughness of their conversation; because frills and graces seemed like such an endless front to show. Few stopped to truly talk with the dappled Oracle over the months passed, and she had grown used to the lone company of Silas and the fire she tended, resting in her swamp of thoughts, and reflective solitude.

“I was determined when I arrived, that healing was my niche. My goal was to study hard beneath our Sun Physicians Onni and Cirrus.” She scoffed then, light heartedly enough, but Africa knew that her ambitions had been quite contrary to almighty plan of her Lord. “Only recently the Sun God appointed me his Oracle. I wouldn’t say I chose my role, no- but with divine intervention I have come to realise that my skills and attributes were well matched to this title. My faith lies squarely with our Sun God; he is far wiser than the mortals strolling his land like fleas upon a canine, he guided my blind hope and for that I am eternally grateful.” Africa fell silent- the delicate sweetness of her soft voice began to crumble into the lapping ocean. She had offered more tonight to Silk than she had to any other for a long while. Unsure whether she had crowded him, the one winged mare smiled gently and asked in reference to the last statement he had delivered, “Are you a follower of the Moon Goddess?” Without letting foolish presumptions conquer her innocent curiosity, Africa imagined her devotees to be much like him- it was the second time they had met by her hour.

Then he stepped closer, and Africa watched carefully, his breath now billowing around her though the bursting wind only let it linger for mere seconds. He seemed unfazed; like perhaps he too sought the bitter bite of the cleansing waters by their back door. Genially she remained in place and allowed him to share her posse there. She listened quietly, ears leaning against the grim honesty of his admission. “There are no rules.” She informed him quickly, hoping to quell the rebellion before it began to leak throughout his captivating frame. “We have two leaders these days, Midas is one, and Gaucho is the other.” She let her gaze swim through the solemness of his otherwise obscure expression. “All that is required if you stay, would be to cherish those we love- those in our herd, our friends and our allies; respect firstly any who present upon our doorstep and avoid contact if possible with our foes.” For the moment following she thought hard, trying to remember anything else that had been mentioned in the recent meeting. In actual fact, Africa had been so entranced by the manner of her appointment that little else had been retained.

satanic silk

He shrugged his strong shoulders, shuffling his wings in the process. Slowly he pulled his hooves from the deepening sand and moved out of the water, to damp but firmer ground. Though he enjoyed the water, it was getting colder, and he wasn't always sure about the salt content. He much preferred fresh water that he could bathe in and drink. He gently waved his wing, beckoning her from the water.

He stayed quiet as he considered what she said. A follower of the Moon Goddess? No, he was not a follower of anyone. Not any single earthly being, nor any deity. He wondered how he could explain this to someone who was a diviner for a deity. Would she understand this particular brand of nihilism? Or perhaps just stubborn independence. To be honest, it varied on the day. Finally he responded to her question. I don't think I am a follower of any God or Goddess. I have yet to believe. He offered a wry smile. He expected no grace or love from a God for whom he did not believe in. And he did not expect her to understand, though there was no problem there.

Gaucho and Midas? He had heard of Midas but was unaware of the brute named Gaucho. Did that mean that there were now two lords of the land? That could be a problematic situation. And those rules. Simple enough, he still wasn't sure he could follow them. He could offer respect to those who offered respect to him. But playing nicely with others was a give and take. He could try to behave, but there would never be any promises. He did not comment on any of this to Africa. He was drawn to her, but remained unsure of the rest of the land. Stay? For now.

He paused in his thought, changing tracks. Healing, hm? He wondered then about her missing wing. Quietly and not without compassion he said, I suppose even with the blessing of the Sun God, not all wounds can be healed. He motioned with his muzzle toward the scar tissue on her side. Silk wondered silently if she had already tried to heal herself. Cautiously, he pried. Tell me, what happened to cause you such a sadness? The loss of flight for a pegasus - he could only imagine the pain - physically, mentally, emotionally. What had it done to her psyche? To have such a beautiful gift, one from birth no less, and then have it ripped away forever. To rub it in, she'd been left with just one, to remind her of the former glory of soaring in the skies. His curiosity would not remain silent - he had to know.

That night, cast in the unusually vast orange glow of the moon, Africa studied Silk both curiously and admiringly while they talked. He was so remarkable; so unlike any other Pegasus or Unicorn she had come across before (Equines were the lesser species- she was not racist or judgemental, but fact was fact), he inspired her heart into wild fluttering and the twist of her ever searching mind craved to know more about him. The black sheen of his lean masculine face captured the essence of that warm light embracing them, veiled murkily in the moon-wash white forelock which carried through too, all the way along his long curved crest in long silken waves. Three tassels clung to that flaxen sea beyond his ears; blood red feathers which were a marvellous replica she thought of the very creature she had been born to embody. How could she not be fascinated, rendered utterly powerless but to crave that which spilt from his crude black lips.

The wings which tucked to each side of him were also a stark contrast to normalcy; to the gift of profuse feathering; the relationship of their kind to the avian race. Pale eyes wandered quickly to hug her love, her mate; the Zephyr who remained none too relaxed upon her light-touching robe- indeed they were a far cry from similar and Africa wondered if it was this unlikeness which made their ability to mingle so difficult. She knew that a great many winged creatures forged the myriad bloodlines flowing through the vast, distant Pegasus population, but truly she could not recall actually meeting those elusive other types. Where plumes of mottled quills were thatched into her own delicately built wing, the stallion’s glorious set was naked, ugly even; bald. She was drawn to their uniqueness, even if the thought of them soured the sweet taste of her saliva.

Her eyes recoiled suddenly; Africa dipped her face so that in that moment her chin was tucked most coyly against the fleshy cushion of her grey breast. So wild was her imagination; her inquisitive, adventurous mind in secret, that she had lost herself to thought with unruly eyes roving unbridled and shamelessly all over him. Velvety nostrils rustled quietly as she very discreetly fought against contact between their eyes, ultimately shocked within herself, and embarrassed that her manners had been so lax. So much time had passed since the last time he had spoken and she realised with a start that she had followed his lead involuntarily from the slurp of the water’s throat.

“You cannot undo the tattoo of experience.” Her meek, soft voice mumbled in response to words offered, a welcome mask for the slip of her modesty and attention. Understanding quickly the meaning behind Silk’s quite gentle statement (for in recent times, her lack of ability seemed to press more and more weight through each conversation held- possibly part the reason for her subtle retreat from social activity), the Oracles trembling lips sought the vivid, ugly pink scar tissue staining her shoulder. Already feathers were sprouting in vain around the site of the empty socket; a futile attempt by her body to maintain a legacy which was also her robbed birthright.

The sadness of that morbid event had mostly passed- left to the corridors of history; they lay deep below the earth, still lower than the sucking roots of the lavish Deep Forest due north, where she had been rebuilt. That grim reality did not haunt her so much nowadays; a life bound by the primitive shackles of gravity seemed as natural as a fish swimming in water. Still, as Silk’s crimson gaze warmed her hide, a deep inescapable remorse began to swamp her mellow heart with grief so far untold to her fellow brethren. “A fool’s venture leads to no glory.” Africa offered to him hopefully, almost willing him to leave her secret where it lay fermenting in the pits of her soul. Eventually it would leak, she knew, she was a frail character- without the wily determination which once headed the waves of her childish ambition. She was a shade of what once was.

satanic silk

Her eyes captivated him, as she watched him as carefully as he watched her. A small part of him wondered idly if Silas was becoming jealous of the moment they were sharing, or if the zephyr was wondering the multiple ways he could wound the bat-winged stallion. Silk's tail flicked with amusement at the idea. The dapple grey lady tucked her crown against her breast, clearly trying to avoid the gaze that they had been holding. Of course there was no hiding. Not for either of them. The moon above shown down through the sparse clouds, illuminating them in the night. Silk stepped closer, placing his dark hooves slowly and delicately on the grainy surface beneath him. His lobes were perked directly toward the soft voice that spoke to him, and his eyes were dark, softer than normal.

It was clear that Africa did not want to tell him what had happened to her. He could not imagine what she had done that not only caused the loss of her wing, but what could possibly have caused her so much emotional pain - and was that shame that she was trying to hide? What was it that was so terrible that she was afraid to tell him. He was a pegasus like her, he could understand that what she had gone through was traumatizing. It always helps to talk about it. Perhaps that advice was true, but something in his belly told him to not push the scarred beauty before she was ready. And he had a sense that he had been doing that since he first met her.

He stepped closer, stepping past whatever personal space boundaries that they had erected. Instead of maintaining any distance, he laid his head over her, resting his soft velveteen muzzle on her shoulder, her feathers tickling his ears. He extended his left wing and wrapped it delicately around her breast and around to his nose. He blinked slowly as he sought the words that were to express what was swirling in his mind. Some tattoos can be beautiful, and foolishness is part of finding ourselves. He snuffled softly, and murmured against her mane. You don't have to tell me, but I'm here to listen.

He hoped that she would not rebuff him. It was not often that he exposed his softer side - at least he hoped that was true. Though feelings were not unfamiliar with him, he did not frequently express them as potently as he did now. Though she remained closed to him, he hoped that she would find comfort as he opened himself to her.

There were few in this terrible world of Helovia who could truly charm- perhaps not capture entirely the Oracle’s heart, but intrigue her enough to cause that reticent mind to tremble with fondness. Originally it had been the black and white General (or Sultan, the title which chained him now), Midas with an unsettling and pupil-less gaze of gold which frenzied her emotions; no matter how childish she had been. The first to greet the dappled girl, the first to save her from foolish wanderings, and the first to take particular care to forge friendship; the magnificent warrior had wooed her silly feelings into a feeble fizz.

Voodoo was another who strummed the tightly strung chords of her heart. They had stumbled upon one another through slightly more peaceful times; before the Basin’s crude, hopeless invasion; before the imprudent girl had been led astray so far away to the north. They had played like children should; losing themselves to make-believe worlds and wild fantasy adventures which seemed now to a wiser and tainted mind, pure bliss. She had found him just recently, a changed beast with prickled hedges surrounding that already slim lane into his soul- once she had fallen recklessly into it sending flailing adolescent hormones into a rage. Perhaps her feelings for the grulla Unicorn who for so long had been the forbidden enemy, had never waned. For all she knew, the tangle of grief hindering her now could easily have had that unspeakable truth intertwined throughout. For now they stayed friends, whether on purpose or by oversight.

Silk stepped forward, piercing the bubble of comfort that she broke only to comfort the weak and pained- never did she offer anything greater than that superficial care owed. Now though, her skin began to burn, and the breath inhaled to sear away to moisture misting her lungs. The Oracle felt like at any moment she might choke the fire which he ignited with that touch; so simple and mellow, yet so full of contrasting, confusing affection. She could not think of a time another had laid themself upon her in such a bold move- actually found that barrier between love and like. Africa was torn brutally in two. How was it possible that one horse, still a stranger in so many ways could step in and shatter a fully fledged pattern of behaviour in half? She was not the promiscuous woman, nor the flirty floozy whose main objective in life was to seduce any with a pulse and breath.

Frightened, she wanted to whirl away from him; to spirit away into the sky like she had been able to as a child so often before. Pale cream eyes were wide and unblinking, the nurture in them replaced by steaming uncertainty. She could not rebuke him though, as much as her mind screamed for each ligament in her legs to contract and whisk out of his reach, she was frozen beneath the warmth of his gesture- the tender care and worry which seemed to seep from his hot black body against hers. For a moment the Oracle wondered if her swaying feelings were exclusive, unfelt quite the same by Silk as their embrace endured her rigidity. She could not decide if it were her alone creating this issue; this sudden stew of toxic infatuation that was as unfamiliar and alien to her as those gigantic mammals who passed by this southernmost point of the peninsula through the vast ocean.

“Do you think,” Africa asked suddenly, breaking the cycle of thoughts for the better of the moment and softening her stance a little beneath him. Through all the turmoil she felt in those moments, she could not deny how beautiful it felt to just be embraced- to be the one receiving for a change. “...that spilt blood; murder even, can be forgiven?” She had no desire to elaborate, nor did she plan on divulging to him what exactly was hidden beneath the carefully picked words she had given. The Oracle held herself entirely responsible for not obeying the law set down by Kri last Orangemoon; it was because of her weak character and gullible skull that life had been lost- that, although at the time she thought quite the opposite, was the worst fate imaginable.

satanic silk

His heart, small inside his large body, had grown in that moment, and he felt like his skin, muscles, and rib cage had been pulled back to expose it. The large, red, pulsing muscle which needed to beat for him to live. It is so strange that love is an emotion, an experience, connected to the heart, when the heart actually has nothing to do with it. Love is more connected to the neurotransmitters and chemicals in the brain than anything that goes on in the heart. To live, though, the heart must beat, while the brain may be completely dysfunctional. Sure, that would be a poor existence, but you would still exist. Without a heart, though... And perhaps that is why love is connected to the heart. In a more dramatic way of putting it, without love, we cannot exist. To reach our fullest potential, we need the fulfillment that comes with love.

Silk felt the pain in his chest that sometimes accompanies those feelings that press beyond what our minds can handle. Instead they manifest in the body, psychosomatic expression of love, grief, anger, joy, shame. The pain was so great, for one split second, that Silk had to gasp for a quick breath of salty ocean air. He felt the mare that he was so close to tense under his frame, and he took a step back, giving them both a moment to catch their breath. Of course, he had not allowed Africa a say in whether he were to close that gap between them. He had done it as a risk that was necessary to take. And it had more or less paid off. Though she was tense at the close contact, he could blame her for it, and she had not refused his contact. It was a step in the right direction and he would treasure that and be content.

But the words that she offered him took him by surprise. Though he was shocked, he did what he could to keep it off his face. Instead of surprise, he showed her compassion. There was no judgment coming from him. Especially since he was not one that had ever been prone to a peaceful existence. He considered her for a moment, and could see that this was something that was not just important to her, but something that perhaps was a defining element of her current existence. He snuffled at her quietly and leaned his muzzle forward to nuzzle her and offer comfort. He gazed into her eyes as he replied. Anything can be forgiven. But there will always be hurt if you cannot forgive yourself. Silk knew this from experience, and over the past year had become better and better at forgiving himself. Live with no regrets. It was something he had picked up living on his own, as he passed from herd to herd, friend to friend. Though he had never had many close relationships, he had picked up a thing or two, and that was one of them. True forgiveness comes from within. It's a hard lesson to learn, and sometimes it may take a lifetime to forgive ourselves for deeds we have done.

As Silk looked into Africa's eyes, he saw the hurt and regret that she had internalized. He wished then that he could reach out and take it from her, to take her pain away and hide it from her so that she could not feel it. She seemed so innocent, so pure. Though she seemed to be confessing to murder, he could not help but imagine a white glow that could emanate from her. And this stain that she carried - he wanted to help her with it, to at least accept it as a beautiful part of who she is today.

The Zephyr could bare the proximity no longer.

Even though he had been pushed from his roost upon Africa’s back by the intimate embrace of the stallion he felt nothing but concerned apprehension for, Silas had remained close by to his beloved; hanging by her side between the ravenous flutter of his star-strewn wings. Fiercely loyal to her, and with naught but her wellbeing and brittleness in mind, he watched with aversion as they shared the moment; locked together by some emotion or lust he could no more understand, than severe with the blade of his beak. The manner of the stallion, the bold and unnerving way he interacted with her, incensed the little avian who had been born to her; for her, and because of her.

Africa could feel the swell of unhappiness in her companion and it unsettled the sea of bile in her already squirming stomach. Many times before they had spread to each other feelings and strong sentiments that conveyed how they felt in situations; and the resentment which poured so gracelessly through their bond now caused arcs of vicious energy which pierced the inner-lining of her helpless mind. Her heart began to burn for the disgruntlement of the Zephyr, to ache and throb as he cast himself away from them through the weight of night, and into the sparking sky which swallowed him from her sight.

Silk spoke, guiding the frantic search of her eyes through the distant constellations, again back down upon him. The caress of his sympathetic tone soothed her for the time being, and she absorbed his frighteningly real words with the slightest gasping breath. “Live with no regrets...?” She whispered vaguely, understanding, lost in the mesmerising depth of his eyes- that which had gone thus far unnoticed to the same degree. She did not realise when her body sought once more to be tight against his; it was an involuntary action, a need for that comforting touch stemming from much deeper even than the spin of her thoughts and strum of her pulse (perhaps it was not so deep like the connection she shared with her bonded though). The heat of him caused her eyes to close; lashes to wrap tightly together, and teeth to grind soundlessly.

“Have you ever wished you could change the past?” She asked then, still leaning heavily into his masculine brawn and feathery quilt of wing. Perhaps the conflicted Oracle was not quite sold on Silk’s theory; or maybe she simply could not yet face up to the reality which stalked her day and night. How had she been able to quell these inhibitions for so long- and why now were they driving her to despair. “Sometimes I think about what I would do differently; if I would be the reckless child who fell flat-faced upon these strange shores of Helovia at all to begin with. But then I look at what I have become, and while truthfully I don’t recognize the reflection who watches me by the lake, I envy her worth and her struggle. I don’t know how she holds high her face so bravely. I just don’t...

The Oracle’s eyes fell apart then, and while tears did not stir from the hardened ducts which had been dry for many seasons; she felt the wave of self loathing and bitterness sting the muscles through her clenching heart. “I must go...” She heaved, pulling herself away and starting forward with staggering, wobbly steps. Something graver than friendship loomed below the surface of that inexplicable meeting, and she shied from it now; from the crumbling of the walls which had been packed so tightly around her, and from the shock of Silas’s pain- ricocheting through her mind and body with the violence and anger of a tornado unleashed. “I must go...” She mumbled again, her jaw trembling beyond control, as she whirled through spraying beach sand and away across the dunes surrounding.

satanic silk

His eyes lifted briefly to the night sky as Silas took to the air, abruptly and swiftly leaving the couple. Without realizing it his head cocked to the side, curious about the zephyr's sudden departure. Was it something he said? No, probably just the bird's general distaste for Silk - and the closeness that he had initiated. For a creature so protective, Silk could only imagine how his personal bubble-breaking was upsetting to the dark one, and wondered how their next interaction would go down.

He turned his attention back to the lady, and found with surprise that she had closed the distance between them once more, and was pressed against him. The warmth between them seemed to grow, and he ducked his head around the top of her neck, offering a small embrace. She seemed increasingly agitated, and he sought to bring her as much peace as he could. His words seemed to have helped a little bit, but there was still so much suffering inside the delicate figure.

And with every word she spoke he sensed she was hiding something from him. It was like she was constantly speaking in riddles, and it frustrated him. It also unnerved him that it seemed she could read his thoughts, that she spoke exactly what he had thought. Okay, cool, she gets what I'm saying, but holy shit how'd she do that? She spoke again and he found himself confused all over again. What on earth was she speaking of? The poor little dove seemed very traumatized. Though he guessed he was younger than she, he wondered how he could protect her - even protect her from herself.

Before he could get a word in edgewise, she was moving away from him. He nickered after her, trying to get her to stay, but she was already out of his reach. Don't go... His eyes held a certain sadness to them, one that he was sure she could not see as she fled from him. He hoped that he was not the one causing her pain right now, but he knew deep inside that even if he was not the cause, he was certainly the one bringing it all to the surface. He sighed and mentally kicked himself. This was one of those times he wish he knew how to be more sensitive and understanding. Understanding perhaps he could manage, but sensitive was not working so well. He spread his wings and whispered after her, Until next time, my dear. He took flight, briefly flying over her retreating form below him, and disappeared into the night sky.