Through the steady thrum of bucketing, cold rain, the soft murmur of a voice carried from behind; although barely audible, and while Africa with long stormy-grey ears reclined heavily into the thick tangle of her oily, drenched mane, did not hear, her companion did.

The Zephyr’s fist-sized head reached upwards from its bed of downy waterproof black plume, a neck that had not seemed nearly so long thinning and stretching as watchful violet eyes searched for their visitor. The stallion was a hazy silhouette through the driving sheet of white, but his raven pelt was not mistakable regardless. A low troubled rumble meandered up the length of his elongated throat as he thought for a moment that the same stallion, who wore strange satanic tattoos in blood-red upon his face, had come now to further aggravate the already thrashing pulse of his beloved’s feeble heart. For the moment, the devoted creature settled his thoughts and his temper, not wishing to stir the restless mare into a frenzy of confusion.

‘Food...’ he whispered to her gingerly through the confines of their growing bond, eyeing the looming shadow suspiciously, ready to pounce should he lose patience and barge towards the dancing fire.

"Okay Silas," came the silent placatory response as Africa stood in one spot facing both the flames and the tree, swaying through the downpour as it pelted relentlessly against her. Really, she felt sorry for the Roc, he loved her so dearly and like the last winter spent in the north, Silas was waiting upon her like a faithful, selfless slave. "Thank you..." she cooed after him tenderly through the steady rhythm of the weather as he fell from his perch between an opening black wingspan and fluttered by. She did not turn as he left; her pastel yellow eyes were closed, long ebon lashes pulled together by the weight of the beading water upon them and while she did not sleep, the Oracle rested amid the web of those sticky, obstinate thoughts.

The stallion spoke again just as Silas had passed the rump of the mare and while the voice this time was louder, perhaps a little more confident, the wild drum of rain washed its thoughtful intent away. The Zephyr could not understand its meaning regardless and so the waiting creature’s words held little traction to begin with. What did occur to him though, was that the tone- the gentleness and care, was quite dissimilar to the self-assured vocals of the bat-winged stallion; this horse spoke with a delicate approach that did not grate so viciously upon the Zephyr’s nerves. Flapping wings guided him forward with due haste until he was face to face (not threateningly so), with Windwalker.

A gently clacking beak received the jet stallion kindly, yet not with any more warmth than he might have met Midas or Gaucho with. The avian held no fondness truly, for any other than Africa- possibly Fina also, and though he had learned to respect the various characters in her family accordingly, he shared little more with them than bland civility. He could not converse with Wind directly, had no true desire to, but felt no apprehension towards the softly spoken Pegasus either. Deciding that his beloved was in no danger, Silas cawed softly at the beast and continued, flying past him to gather fruits from their oasis on which Africa could dine (or throw into the fire like every time before).

"Hi Wind." The delicate sound of the mare’s voice lifted higher than the rain, though soft and subtle was its pitch. Africa had turned, the ravenous flutter of wing-beaten wind and the slip of her bonded’s thoughts had roused her from respite, and she looked now towards her friend with warm, caring eyes. "Lovely to see you again, friend. Tell me, how have you settled?" Long, lithe, white-stockinged forelimbs guided her forwards to meet the well-thought of stallion; dimpled, whiskery chin tucked close against the fleshy warmth of her throbbing breast.


[ooc: Wind is more than welcome <3]

Africa

His features were aglow, cast in the unwearied radiance of the fire which remained unbeaten by the foul attitude of the weather; now closer, the dappled mare could see the lines of his once fraught face had softened, the disharmony cursing his eyes eased. Had it been a week since last they had spoken anything greater than the obligatory hello, how are you? Africa, the day following their camp out beside the sacred flame had been stretched- the duty and errands swallowing her time seemed always to be a ball of unravelling twine, the end of which was untraceable. Such was the weight she had promised to shoulder when the Sun God had bestowed upon her this role; the gift, which undoubtedly she both cherished and respected unwaveringly.

The Oracle’s large eyes had mellowed instantly; the stress once pooling through their ethereal glossy black centre had been pressed aside to accommodate the presence of her guest. She cared more for those building the numbers of her family then ever she did herself- and still more did she hold a selection of faces closer; this flightless creature among them. Perceptive both by nature and for the sake of her spiritual role in the herd, Africa noticed quite readily the switch of emotion and smiled to ease the concern enveloping him. So too did were his words wrapped snugly between that worry, and her large ears swept forward to hear embrace them. She found not the space to respond, nor did he follow the natural trend of any conversation in answering her own. The one-winged grey chortled lightly through the film of water, her steaming breath rising like a billowy cloud before dissolving into the atmosphere above.

She had not before met someone who cared so openly and for her- well, with that same emotional abandonment that often unravelled her mind so rashly upon the world too.

As his long, soggy, mane-shroud neck uncoiled to reach across his large, refined skull, her ears flicked carefully and hesitantly, almost unwilling to allow him the same closeness which had torn her two some moons ago, with Silk. Africa was a sensitive, sensual creature whose boundaries, were often skewed by her desire to comfort and tend the needy- her emotions had been so easily lead astray; a lust which was alien and frightening had consumed her. Unwilling to destroy that care forged between them, the tapering lips were sent forth to meet him, trickling water running like a minute waterfall between the flare of her nostrils. Too much pressure, the weight of her felony stewing, and the foreign flood of arousal lately caused her skin to tremble nervously- subtly, so that perhaps even he might not notice.

"I’m fine," she cooed softly, trying earnestly to fill the sweet flavour of her voice with confidence. Although he was worried, she wished not to share the burdens of her soul- not with any other actually, and snuffled tenderly before withdrawing her face from the reach of both his touch and his breath. Gingerly she smiled. "A fine friend I have in you." The Oracle admitted, blushing for the truth of the matter; because it was an overwhelming gift given. "I can only pray that you feel as blessed in my company."

She felt deeply that some explanation for her haggard appearance was owed, needed, so that his mind could at least rest a little. "The change of season; this shift from drought to near flood... (the dappled mare laughed coyly, and tossed her saturated face left to right to indicate to that which still spilt around them) "... unsettles me, and I find myself unable to sleep. Does that happen to you?" She asked quickly and diligently, hoping her story (though half-truth it really was), might be enough to quell his thirst to help. "The desert is such a beautiful place, but so wearing upon its inhabitants."

Africa

Eyes drifted quietly between the sincerity borne within his rich, dark chocolate eyes; the thick curtain of crimped black forelock which had aided his obscurity when they had first met in the company of Storm, clung tightly to his fine chiselled skull now, pressed to either side as though glued securely in place by the wet of the rain. He could not hide now, but she wondered as she watched him if he still felt so nervous. A demure stateliness had filled the furrow of pain and despair; his head was no longer sunk upon a hollowed crest that had not the will or energy to strive forward; though still limp and loose by the shift of his knee, that broken wing which perhaps had crippled his mind as well, seemed so much less of a burden for him to carry. The Oracle was pleased with his growth already, from pitiful to tender-minded and selfless (though she hoped truly that he did care for himself as much as he appeared devoted to her).

As Windwalker blinked, the bitterly cold water flooding his eyes, he smiled and answered; explaining that he was so greatly blessed, that his slumbers could easily endure the wrath of a blizzard- if he was tried enough. She laughed pensively, thinking for a moment about the nights (hostile and miserable), that she had spent in such stormy weather, exposed and vulnerable- dying should not Silas have been her ultimate saving grace. Her friend laughed also, and the moment was entwined with the free recklessness of their unleashed mirth. So nice it felt to laugh again.

As the sound melted into the patter of still steady rain, the stallion spoke to her again, and Africa’s long ears wandered forward to meet his words; concurrently, Windwalker had slipped closer beside her and lifted one part of his generous wingspan to shelter her. The waterproof sheath of feathers held away the volley, and for the first time in many moons she felt no drum upon her sensitive puddly hide, only the warmth radiating from his steaming, wet company. She wanted to cuddle close into the security he offered; to fold beneath his reach and give in to the waves of weariness as they rolled through her drained mind- but she did not. She could not damage further her soul with the rage of formidable confusion, and wild untameable emotions. The Oracle had never been so susceptible to the good will of her kin; so drawn to their care and concern- she did not deserve such, could not suffer them the anxieties which wrinkled her loyalty. Already she felt the pang of insecurity chew through her empty stomach, and offered to him a simple smile of gratitude.

“Yes, your right.” She breathed timidly into the cool, moist air, not looking to meet his eye- though it seemed his gesture was respectful and a plain show of kindness above all else. There was no denying her appreciation; more so because he still stood unprotected. “Let’s walk to the oasis,” the waver of her voice continued though, “there will be cover for us both beneath the trees…” Gingerly she glanced up at last, and the apprehension pooling behind the soft pastel yellow of her eyes was comforted by the gentleness in his own. As she stepped from the shade of his wing, she passed her trembling nose along his shoulder; letting it trace to breath of its hard, sturdy strength before slipping away with her bouncing skull. “Come, come!” Africa did not want to hurt this stallion; her friend who in such a small space of time had offered her something so marvellous.

Africa

Lean forelegs, stockinged smartly to each knee in white, hesitated and the dappled mare drew to a halt; breath snagged in the base of her throat, eyes clenching tightly almost with dismay as he called for her to wait. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Windwalker, who almost could have been the psychosomatic, wounded replica of herself; Africa did, immensely so- but while she felt the strange pulling in her heart as it yearned to fold itself against his tenderness, she knew that Silk too had caused her heart to swoon; her soul to tremble and her mind to burn. The Oracle was unused to lusting emotions, raging hormones, all driving her to vow her life to them; she was a leaf on the wind, cast in so many conflicting directions, confused and tortured beyond her control. She could not offer herself to anyone yet though, and perhaps that was why those feelings upset so much- not while she still clutched so fretfully to the demons in her past.

For now she turned to only Silas, her beloved.

As she stopped, the ebony Pegasus continued and Africa felt the air withheld burst with astonishment from the grasp of her lungs.

“You brought an offering?” She asked quickly, curious to find out if that was indeed his meaning. Honey-gold eyes were turned to find his face, but it had been thrust backwards, his smooth nose lost between the small clutch of white feathers; there bedded contrastingly amongst the black. For many years Africa had plucked her own quills from wherever they could grow; anxiety and stress were a swift affliction and whenever they descended across her shoulders, the sensitive creature would spiral down into the grim pits of despair- pink, raw skill pimpled with blood. As he removed the feathers, she did not flinch or react, only smiled a little because the gesture in itself was extremely generous.

As he guided them towards the Oracle her nostrils rattled graciously, and she accepted the gift readily, bumping the soft suppleness of her maw against his. She noted that like Windwalker, the layer beneath was different; black- concealed by the purity of the snow’s pale mask. How strange, she thought to herself, but said aloud- “The Sun God will favour your charity, Wind.” Their breath mingled for a moment longer than she might have preferred, and when she pulled from his reach Africa again felt the cold, harsh reality of the rain. Indeed her Lord would notice the selfless act of kindness shown, but it was undeniable that she appreciated it more. She was both grateful and flattered, and could not this time pull the thankfulness from her expression. “Thank you.” She didn't turn right away to place them in the flickering flames, instead embracing them tenderly for a while longer.

Africa

Windwalker spoke then once more, and her ears pricked curiously as the question was revealed; broadening eyes filled with torment and horror as the memory of her own disfigurement flashed before the pale hue of her gaze. Their embrace ended abruptly as she drew startled, from his reach.

She clutched the stallion’s two-toned feathers closely, tucking them close against the warmth of her breast; almost denying their opportunity to fall into the waiting flames which ducked and danced wildly in tune to the creeping wind as it roused the rain into pounding sheets upon the friends. Silence aside from the grim weight of the unleashing clouds, rose about them- each locked in thought perhaps; Africa’s own, divided and muddled. She turned suddenly from him finding herself pressed close against the temple, and appeared to toss the gifts- like had been intended, into the crackling snarl therein. The flames flared once, vivid blue, gold and rich red-orange, swallowing their meal easily so that they were no more. Secretly though, Africa had kept one quill for her own, and she reached carefully around to weave it safely beneath her own waterproof set. He could not have seen, though calm and careful, she acted ever so discreetly so that he could not have been witness to her brazen theft.

"Wind…" She gasped then, slightly exasperated by the request he had made- and she knew right away that the Sun God would think sourly upon such an act. When last she had met with him, her Lord had suggested (quite determinedly), that she call upon him when she felt ready to avenge her loss; to quest and have that blessed limb and flight restored.

"Wind… friend," Again she tried, compassion and distress melting through each attempt to speak. "Such are the hauntings of our past. I too suffer." she revealed, quieting her voice should any other be near.

He spoke again, a new determination driving through his tone and Africa recoiled further from him, sidling up to the comfort of her holy fire and pulling her eyes tightly upon it’s refuge. So cruel was the curse upon his mind that the Oracle began to fear his intent; his will and desire. "…There are other ways!" She begged her thoughts to cooperate and form, for words to stabilize upon the thrash of her helpless tongue but she was fraught, and could not fix together the sentences to help him. After a long breath she turned towards him, pleadingly and said, "I would give you my own, to restore your flight; your birth right. Find favour with a God dear one, and they will grant your wishes true- whether tis to fly, or walk, you do not need to suffer. If you can wait a little longer, I will prove this to you, I will show you my Lord; he is magnificent and all powerful.” Still she knew the Sun God would likely scorn his request to be bound eternally to the earth- he did not like that Africa was grounded.

Unhappily she reached out to him, wanting to caress the quiver of his anguished soul, but another fell upon them crudely- stumbling like a drunkard through the concealment of rain.

Through a sulphurous cloud the ill-looking creature came upon them, slick in moss and putrid to smell (even through the downpour), and Africa shied with a squeal, frightened as it staggered towards them- anatomy dangling, barely attached at all. Without hesitation it neared and the Oracle could see the sinister smile curved into its wicked looking maw; she felt sick, like her empty stomach was twisting and contorting within. "Wind!" She cried aloud, then through her stricken mind- "Silas, help!" She did not stay in place- naturally, turning as tightly upon clenched haunches, as her heritage would allow to flee from the monster who had somehow infiltrated the midst of their home. "Find the herd, we must warn everyone!" The creature coughed and spluttered revoltingly, all the while, and fretfully Africa tried to evade the filth expelled.

Africa

"Can you do that? Just give your wing to someone else?" A calmness took over his voice as his brain began to process what she had just said. If she could do that, it ment that he was able to do that in return. He also knew that he would never accept such a sacrifice from someone who had already felt how it was to fly. Truth be told, he had never been more than a foot over the surface, and still he did not want it. Yeah, he knew what he said about the beeing the master of the sky-thing, but he had not ment it that way. He wanted to master the sky from the earth, not by air."You can have my wing. Or both of them. I don't want to fly, Africa. I've never done it before."

Was there an undertone of fear in his voice or had he become so chill by the rain that it affected his speech. It could be both, for he had just realized what he had done. He had scared her, showed her the darker side of himself; the one who could take what he pleased and not think of others. He sounded almost like a spoiled colt as he repeated himself."I don't want to fly."

Other ways. Talk of Gods. How could they help him? He did not keep any of the close to his heart or in his mind, for they had never answered any of his pleadings. He had only accepted their existence because of Africa. She was his friend and that was what friends did. They accepted all, no matter how hard it was. He threw her a glance as she reached out for him and he almost wanted to meet her half way, if they had not been interrupted.

What met his eyes, was something out of a nightmare. A horse so tattered and sickly that the only thing keeping it together, was its bones. He wanted to flee in that instant, but he could not live with himself if he did. Africa's voice shook the air. He almost wanted to tell her that if they wanted to warn the herd, they first had to get away from this..thing. He never got the chance to tell her. The creature vomited up a mess of god knows what towards them and all his thoughts gave way to an instinct that told him to get out. His hind legs did lifted him up to jump away, but even in the chaos, he did not know if it was enought.

Walking "Talking"

Windwalker