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.