For a week or more, the dappled figure of the Oracle had lingered in the depths of subterranean shadows, unwilling to delve into the social responsibilities which snapped so insatiably at her heals. It seemed that the darkness had not only the ability to spread physical sickness throughout the mortal beings of this realm; the wraiths hunting incessantly across the crust above, pulled from life by the noxious cloud. Minds were souring beneath it, untouched apparently to the naked eye; but tension and discontent among the cave-dwelling population was ripe and insatiable. Africa had not been spared the wrath; claustrophobia had never been a prevalent feature in her character, but here where dark stone corridors wound only deeper into the pits of despair, she was crumbling beneath the weight of introspection.

She had abandoned the mysticism of the wall above; the wonderful depictions of this world’s creation, and the closeness she felt to her Lord there, for seclusion and solitude. Windwalker had tarnished the respite they offered. She had left for the stark quiet that seemed always suspended through the vast underground jungle’s eerie midst, and the heavy shadows cast there where the delicate mushroom-lamps and shimmery canopy could not always light. No other place in the cave network could offer her the same opportunity to hide from society- and there she had lingered alone, for a long time, in sullen silence.

Other’s came by frequently- The Glowing Room harboured their only food source, but Africa shied from the prospect of company; friendly smiles, whenever sharp eyes cornered her, were met with retreat as she turned and withdrew still further from their reach. Likewise, a mare she had met only once neared the waterfall, uncomfortably close to the smooth moist wall which usually sheltered her. Long lean ears responded immediately, burying backwards beneath the quite unkempt shreds of her dull, oily mane; the crimson square feather tethered tightly behind the left, and its black star-spangled neighbour, quivered beneath the pressure of her unhappiness. Though the strange mare (Africa could not remember her name, if it had been shared at all previously) held probably the purest of intentions, the one-winged creature favoured not the thought of her intrusion and slid her wingless side along the cold surface of rock, out of proximity.

A stallion that she had seen often moved forward as she slipped away, and Africa paused, one ear swivelling with sudden intrigue.

She knew not that their paths had crossed already; amnesia had nulled that terror from her memory. He was quiet (menacing), she had determined over the course of whatever time had been spent in the same room; preferring the company of himself, like her, and never had they sought to cross the invisible boundaries securing each other’s privacy. Africa was curious now only because he had chosen to approach the two-toned mare- one visitor, among many who had come to sip from the waterfall before her. She watched with narrow eyes as the Unicorn hesitated; continued, and the sound of his guttural voice expelled the reason.

Africa

I think it's nice not to think. I mean, I do think, but not as much as I used to and not in the same way. I don't use enormous amounts of energy to figure out what I would do in a situation that will never happen. Instead, I have found a new hobby; to be the biggest pain in the ass to everyone I see. This is quite fun, once you get the hang of it, so I frequently stop by the Glowing Room to see if I can spot new targets.

And today was my lucky day. Not only were the mare from the ocean there, but a stallion too. A smell lingered in the moist air, a smell I had dreamed about too often. Africa. So, she finally decided to join the living and be of use. Good for her.

I put on a smile as I entered the dim light and my feet almost danced across the moss as I went towards the little group. The light betrayed me quickly, but to be honest, it did wonders when it showed off my newly gained muscles. Yes, I've been training. Now focuse. "So, we meet again!" The words carried laughter as they left my throat, for I was in a good mood. Finally something happened!

When I came to the young mare, I did not stop my dancing, but took a round to see how she had progressed (and to keep the other stallion at bay)."Wow, you have grown! Let me look at you, girl." I smiled while knowing that Africa could hear every word. I wanted her to see how much I have changed, so that she can be even more sorry for lying to me. And flirting with another mare is the best way to do it.

My round was finished and that's when I offered the stallion a look. "Who are you? I've never seen you before." It may come off as a little bit harsh, but what the hell. From the way the stood, it looked like he did not have balls anyway. "Are you stalking this poor, innocent mare? Huh? Are you hiding, so when I leave, you can have your way with her?"


Walking "Talking"

Windwalker

The mare, obnoxiously pleasant and unsettlingly forward, seemed to throw the stallion of centre almost as instantly as Africa- or that was how it seemed from her viewpoint. Coal-tinged ears swivelled like searching satellites through the dull shroud of night, and cautiously they soaked up the voices; his deep, grating and guarded; hers airy as though born upon the fluttery brilliance of a butterfly’s powdered wings. Their coats glimmered in the cool blue half-light, shades of brown, grey and black all glossed with the weakest cerulean sheen.

Then... something entirely unexpected happened while she stood motionlessly out of their range. Windwalker fell upon their meeting like a vulture to a corpse.

He had changed. A new lustre glossed his sleek black coat and the wretchedness in his carriage had been swapped for marvellous athleticism; slim, raven skull flounced with defiant arrogance atop the peak of his thickened neck and the mane flanking it, flapped wildly to the rhythm of his new bouncing gait. How long had she really been cowering in the bleak shadow of pity? The glare cast by her pale, yellowy eyes was sullen; filled with twisted regret and simmering resentment towards he who had corralled her, manipulated her so crudely, and then stepped from the weight of that into what appeared to be carefree composure. She had not been able to shed the grief from her stricken soul so easily. She wore heavily still the festering graze of his anger, and watched as he flaunted like a needy whore before the strangers, with expanding frustration; dejection.

Africa had lost all interest- for the second time in her relatively short existence. Even while darkness pulled away her family, destroyed lives and ruined hope, the young creature found only enough energy to wallow in her own despair. She held not enough confidence to waltz from her cover; nor did she have the will compelling her to confront him. Really, she wished right then that Silas had never been sent to find him during those final moments in the desert; that he had gone home with that other mare by the old fallen log in the Threshold; that he had never found reason to chide her, torment her or bring her so heavily upon her knees.

Love... She scoffed in silence, cursing the word which had been so damaged.

Africa

Pleasure? You have no idea what I am capable of, little butterfly.

I let Abishia bask in my words, as she did not hide how much they affected her. Good. I could play this game too. She laughed, went back and even tried to touch me with her maw. Sadly, I knew how this was going to play out, so I did not meet her.

Instead, I lost all interest in her and moved my focus on the stallion. I got no answer from him as he fell back into the darkness. Well, that was easier than I thought. I had actually thought he would challenge me, but well, maybe another time.

The smell of Africa caught my attention again and I threw a glance in her direction. I could not see her well, but I knew she was there, listening, watching. I kept my eyes on her, as I spoke straight from the liver. "Why do you reek of despair, Africa? Have Silas left you because you lie more than you speak the truth or have he finally realized there is a better life out there, away from you?" I grinned now, and I did nothing to hide it. If you play with the fire you get burned. That's how it is.

I knew how my words would hurt her, but I could not care less. With my grin still painted on, I turned my head towards Abishia. "And then there is you, love. You know how to have fun, don't you?" A chuckle built up in my throat and hit bounced off the cave walls as I streched my head to bite her lip. Not hard, but only to tease. Now, all I had to figure out, was if she would continue to play this little game or be appalled by the way I treated Africa. And honestly, I did not care.

Walking "Talking"

Windwalker

The avian who rested warily amidst the iridescent tree canopy’s cover croaked angrily as the swarthy stallion with the snow-white blemish, angled his thuggish glare towards his concealed beloved. Violet eyes widened as his lithe body began to tremble; adrenaline spewed through his veins like a stimulant drug fuelling the sudden surge of his usually checked temper. The flare of flimsy extravagant feathers lining his then arced crest waved through the air as he peered down towards Africa’s foe, and his wings parted in waiting, should the creature stumble beyond the realms of common sense and move closer.

The dappled mare shrank from Windwalker’s conceited tone; her nerves unravelled, rippling the matted sheet of bleakly-hued fur encompassing her, and she felt the cold hard resistance of the cave’s wall against the press of her wingless side. There was no stir of movement, she knew he had not left the small gathering- could see the dim outline of his midnight pelt against the soft illumination of the vegetation embracing them where they stood. The tender caress of her bonded’s mind subdued her desire to react; to slip from the grip of the stallion’s unpleasant eyes and away through the network of tunnels imprisoning her. Desperately Africa wanted to be rid of him, the attitude swelling his once docile, warm personality was overwhelming and frightening; and while frustration and resentment simmered in her mind, the meek creature could do naught but listen helplessly.

Certainly her confidence (that miniscule amount she tried so carefully to clothe herself in) had been eroded away. It seemed, despite her best efforts to avoid their notice, that she had become somewhat the centre of their universe- the startled expression of the Unicorn stallion too was turned her way.

Then, the bright voice of the mare pierced the tension which laced so heavily the air, and both Silas and Africa’s attention shifted suddenly towards her. Long lean ears switched instantly, the almost repulsive note of cheer had dissolved from her tone and in its place was something quite unexpectedly shocked and defiant. Even after the black stallion’s provocative flirting, the mare seemed turned off. All manner of what had been, simply vanished. She hurled towards Windwalker another reprimand and the dappled creature watched with baited breath as she thrust her stride forward, tauntingly lifting her nose towards his. The gesture was fleeting as the painted girl slipped around the wingless brute to stand closer to he who had been mostly silent the whole time.

Something alike to pity began to twist Africa’s stomach; despite the throb of his aversion towards her, it hurt to see him belittled, shunned. The quiver of her lips almost reached for him, the whiskers bristled anxiously upon the frown encompassing, but she recoiled still further from them all and snorted in quiet dismay.

The mare spoke again, this time angling her face- the soft brush of encouraging words, towards the dark veil of humidity by the wall and Africa fidgeted on the spot. "He was not always so wretched…" her frail voice revealed hesitantly, the pallid glow of her eyes wandering grimly to find where Windwalker remained. But it was soon apparent that this brute; the vindictive animal that stood between them was not the same character the other mare remembered either.

Despite the support of the strangers- Africa still was not certain who else exactly Windwalker was chastising; toying with for the sake of her own discomfort, the mare was reluctant to pull from the safety of her shadows and shook her strained face ruefully. Whether or not they caught the subtle flicker of light glancing through moving eyes, Africa offered nothing further. She wasn’t a bully, even pushed to the brink of despair by his hate and spite, she could not muster the energy or willpower to suffer him the hurt burning her heart.

Silas descended at that point, generous wingspan spread smoothly while no barrier obscured his path towards her withers, and there he perched protectively in the glistening gloss of his starlit plumage.

Africa

"Excuse you, Windwalker. That's not a way to speak to anyone, let alone a mare."

What was this? 'Let's all try to save poor little Windwalker'-intervention? It rumbled in my chest as that little fucker of a mare talked to me like that, and I had to use all of my willpower to keep myself from shreading her to pieces. And the she pushed her luck even further by walking up to me. I let her do it and showed no sign of the hatred that now boiled.

I almost believe she suffers from schizophrenia, for just a moment ago she flirted and now, I apparently disgusts her. Heck, what do I care about how she feels towards me? She was never more than a little pawn in the game I now played and I did not need her to win. Let her seek refuge beside the stallion (if you even can call him that) and let her see that he can never play in my league. Her loss.

I changed my focus towards the one that used to make my heart hurt. Africa was still able to do it, but not in the same way. I felt no pity, no regret for the words and ways I have treated her. I wish you knew that I do this for you, so that you will not stay broken for long. Damn, I still have a heart. I just don't let anyone see it.

"Of course I've changed. Everyone goes through a change sooner or later, and mine happened later. Deal with it." I gave both the mares my opinion on what they had said, before I turned to the stallion. "You will change too. There is no way you will survive with that broken heart of yours. You will learn that the shadows does not shelter you from the world and that you can not escape your fears. Take it from me; Better face it now and grow or you will shrivel away, knowing you did not live a life that was yours."

This was it. I had done what I came for and now I would leave them, either to ponder upon my words or talk about how a disgrace I was. I did not care what they did, as I do not own them. But they should listen. Truth comes from the one who have felt the weight of the world on his shoulders and not the one who glides through life. With a last glance, I looked at where Africa was hiding, before I walked past the others and out.

Let them see the walk of a man who have lost everything in a desperate attempt to live a life he had always dreamed about. Let them talk. Let them forget.

OOC: Aaaaand Wind is out! *poof*
Thank you again for letting me crash this thread and just so you know, I am cheering for Slaiter and Abishia ;) *wink wink*

@[Abishia] @[Slaiter] @[Africa]

Walking "Talking"

Windwalker

The defiant expression riddled through the familiar black stallion’s once demure back features, held steady despite the taunting rebuke which unsettled easily Africa’s still squirming stomach. She had not expected Windwalker to brave the cheek of the other mare’s tongue so stoically, and even while her own heart lurched to rest in the base of her gulping throat, he seemed to stand there unaffected entirely. That throbbing organ sank back almost as suddenly, and her ears too drove backwards as her once friend’s focus returned to the thick shroud of shadowing she hid beneath. The gaze gleaming with aversion beneath the spangled canopy was like a knife through her conscience.

He spoke- callous words driving forward to shatter Africa’s brittle reasoning; any resolve fraying beneath the puddled shell of her hide. Her heart had not so much been broken; it had been wounded by a cruel tongue and a mind which had lulled her insecurity and fragile spirit into some perverted manner of trust. She had never given her heart away, no other’s grip had ever been snug around it’s hot pulse- and now, no desire to do so swelled any longer through her core.

Windwalker’s teeth snapped together viciously as his voice fell short; unwilling perhaps to feed them anymore of that hate searing his mind. The other mare who stood now beside the silent Unicorn, gnashed blunt ivories Before he whirled away from the group, Africa’s bewildered gaze was snagged by the sweep of his hollow eyes. A sadness filled her own; grief fuelled by the brutal loss of a friend which had seemed so sincere- though had not Aurelia seemed so darling also. Perhaps the dappled fool was just numb to the signs undoubtedly shed by those ill-meaning fiends throughout Helovia; certainly it seemed she was a sucker for their punishing behaviour. The wingless black removed himself then, passing bitterly out through the corridor that his wrath had previously descended upon them through. Africa’s held breath released slowly, not for the sake of relief by any means... Her heart’s thrash did not ease.

The soft pull of the other mare’s nicker drew creamy eyes from the black entrance to the room, and soon the other’s nose sought her location through the veil of Africa’s clever concealment. It bumped with the tender grace of another female; a touch that was quite dissimilar to even the daintiest of affectionate male caresses. The dappled mare was drawn to its warmth and compassion- she had few friends of her own gender, and perhaps that was part the reason emptiness now hollowed out her soul so terribly. She had never been overly particular about who she thrust her care upon; foal, man or woman; always, Africa had given herself freely and that had been her ultimate unravelling.

She would not be so forthcoming anymore…

The Zephyr glowing above grumbled protectively as the two noses touched; he cared not for the unkind ways of her kind, and found more and more frequently that those they crossed paths with were unpredictable and wild. Even before himself, his beloved was the primary focus of his care and concern.

Africa’s own name peeled through the silence which had fallen rapidly upon them in the absence of the thuggish stallion. Long ears rushed forwards to meet the astonished tone of the feminine voice, and quickly the name to follow rang a chord of familiarity through her mind. Indeed they had met by the flank of the Foothills- and so too had she seen Ciceron down here recently. A stark, rare wave of happiness flashed through the gaze of her eyes. It seemed many of those who had once warmed her heart had found their safety in The Sanctuary. She was glad, but still too bruised to bear the brunt of that openly.

The brown and white mare extended her nose again; the same innocent generosity therein which had been the forefront of Africa’s character for all the years she now looked back scornfully upon- she had been nothing but a starry-eyed fool. The gesture was withdrawn quickly though, and an apology offered for which the dappled Pegasus was unsure. Abisha turned after requesting tenderly that she follow, and Africa followed silently towards the eerily hued stallion- not altogether sold on his placidness. With mild reluctance (purely for the sake of his gender), she offered a modest nod and retired jadedly to stand against the comforting warmth of the younger mare’s coffee-brown thigh.

Slaiter was a name she had not before come across. Regardless, Abisha’s cool confidence offered her sudden solace, and bathing in the protective glower of her bonded, Africa felt the writhing tension begin to dissipate slowly from her fraught frame.

Africa