The Roc croaked placidly to signify the end of their private moment, and Africa’s heavy eyes cleared of the brooding fog spread across their pallid, clement surface. Curious, her snowy complexion lifted from a lethargic droop with stiffening ears to find the monochrome stallion nearing, and with him naturally, the emblazoned Fina. Soft, flimsy nostrils rimmed with dusky-grey, puffed warmly to welcome both friends closer into the gentle roll of eerie mist- into the tranquillity she had found, when everywhere else seemed to leak unhappiness, uncertainty and fear. Even with wretched wonderings and fears clashing within, the miniature ecosystem embracing her here; presumably untouched before; faultless and ridiculously beautiful, seemed to quash some of that destitution which seemed so utterly inescapable. She was more than ready to share its rare quality with Midas now, along his Phoenix comrade who had seemed so disturbed by the prospect of cave-crawling to begin with.

Silas murmured quietly as his mount shifted to accommodate the Sultan’s company, passing a cautiously assessing glance by Fina whom so far, he had found little success befriending.

Beneath the weight of each of his steps small comforts of home; familiar and moving, spread like ripples across an otherwise still pond; fire like that which had offered console through lonely, grief-stricken nights (the sacred temple which she missed now so terribly), and gold, shimmering magic which he had gifted part thereof to her so that the amulets she wore still today, might hang snugly around her neck. Both brightened the opaque screen blanketing the mossy floor.

The Oracle drew a breath and offered to him an inert smile, but the flames too engulfing her long mottled locks were withering quickly with the waning hope in her heart. Quietly she watched the shadow clad stallion close the small distance, smart (now well-practiced) eyes finding the weakness pooling behind the bridge of stoicism portrayed- she felt a delicate sadness grip Silas’s heart, as she too looked then upon the stunning, feathered mask of the stallion’s normally aloof companion. She did not seem so distant today (tonight), and listening harks found the light click of her friend’s beak as the young Zephyr filled with concern.

Africa knew the direness of their situation; she was not imprudent enough to laugh off the bleakness and brush off that danger which warmed their doorstep at that very moment. Many had been lost to the darkness; helpless souls consumed by it, now hungered after those remaining, hiding themselves fretfully away. It was a terrible time, perhaps worse than the Endless Night- though still the warmth of the Sun God’s presence festered somewhere deep in her soul. Maybe that sourced the silent strength she leaned on now; the faint flicker of hope that they had not been abandoned completely. The dappled creature was afraid, undoubtedly, but the patron of their desert home had not forsaken them yet.

She nodded simply when he spoke; a solemn, soundless reply to a grave remark, but as he turned from her for the first time she could recall, the Oracle took a muffled step forward to reach her softly blowing nose closer. “Don’t hide from me Midas...” She cooed sensitively, unobtrusively, feeling a burden not quite the same compressing her own pulsing vessel. The mare’s eyes held little hope, no false happiness like she had worn so often before- these struggles were different; they were not vain, selfish grievances tainting sourness through her brittle mind. Their family, friends, and those closest to the heart were being ripped from life- she could only assume as much given the unsightly nature of what they were now to look at and listen to. The memory of those wraiths- the detached eyeball dangling gruesomely from a hollowed socket upon its rope-like artery; the repulsive spluttering, slop expelled with each hacking cough; the rotting flesh hanging agape and filled with engorged maggots. The young mare shuddered.

The level of her worry seemed impossible given the foolish, arrogant character which had dabbled so recklessly through a lifetime past, grazing in and out of misfortune and trouble. Had it really been just over a year ago? Africa was not that child now though, and she saw through the pensive gaze of an Oracle the rundown walls of The Gallant, who it seemed could bear the aching burden of his load no longer.

She was not so ignorant like the rest- she cared more deeply, observed more closely and felt more strongly; she knew a broken heart, because hers still lay scattered across the icy doormat by the Basin’s front porch. The one-winged Pegasus had made it her specific duty to learn and understand those folk whom shared her home. Without magic she could not force Midas to confide- she wished not to further trouble him regardless, nor push him away. So instead of luring the hurt from an unwilling tongue she stood quietly with him; wishing at least that the calm of this room might wash a small window of respite into his sullied world.

Cloaked in sparkling feathers which reflected the night sky lost; Silas’s quiet violet eyes met the startling aqua gaze of the Phoenix- they were opposites entirely. She was fashioned, as though, by the broiling beams of the sun, bejewelled with eyes replicating the brightest of daylight’s warm hours; and he was shroud in the deepest gloom of a moonless night, accented only by cool twilight hues and the winking shimmer of the stars. Never the less, the pair were together descendants of magnificent avians; fabled creatures that were seldom seen and scarcely understood. Silas felt for Fina now, and the hushed croon of his empathy danced smoothly amid the soft rumble of the underground waterfall to find her.


[ooc: I tried to word this carefully so as not to presume she could read him ;) I know she can’t. If you want me to change it to respect his secretiveness more, I am very happy to]

Africa