The journey to the caves is difficult. Every movement sends a shot of pain through my shoulders and I know if I keep going this hard I may not even make it to this help. There is one positive this trip, the mare doesn’t try and hold conversation nor does she ask questions which allows me time to process and get lost in what is now my fragile mind. Right before I drift off I can see rotting corpses and my lip curls back in disgust. If she ever does speak to me I keep my responses curt and try to avert diving any deeper, I need to keep everyone at arm’s length for the time being, if I ever let any of them in. Even thinking about befriending these mortals is almost hilarious. When I was amongst my brethren I wasn’t the type for ‘friendship’, relationships had proved themselves a mere trifle, because in the end they hadn’t made my duties any easier. It wasn’t like very many were interested in my friendship as I typically was hunting and when I did return it wouldn’t be uncommon for my body and armor to be caked in blood. Hm, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that no one would be interested in me other than Samael. The thought makes me smile but the mare speaks and I snap out of whatever nostalgic trance I was in and listen.

She goes on to explain the other herds that reside within these caverns. My brow lifts at the mentioning of supremacist unicorns. I will avoid these mutant equines as I don’t need to deal with mortals that need an attitude adjustment. Once we reach the Sanctuary I stop and look at the pit in the ground for a moment before following the mare into the darkness. With each step I wince, the pain is starting to get a bit too much for me and I know I need to rest. Her head gestures for others to come, and I am overwhelmed by the amount of bodies. I turn my head towards the caver and make note of it, later I will find a pool to delve into to soothe my burned shoulders.

“I’m not the type to sit about idly,” I begin, perhaps I am being bold with my words but it’s worth a shot to press for some information. “But I am also not precisely a warrior… Does this group have somewhere a um… Assassin could thrive in? Even if it’s simply duties that require stealth… I am a creation intended to be used.” Assassin is not the right word, but it’s the best way I can put my former duties. All I want is purpose, no, all I need is purpose. I was created to have purpose and a duty, not to simply ‘enjoy life’.

"blah blah blah"

Restlessness had been set into her heart long before the herd had been forced to take refuge, hidden away from the vast comfort of the star-spangled night sky. For more months than she cared to figure, Africa’s mind had been a troubled web of secrets, bitterness and antipathy; all of which had forced her withdrawal from the flow of mainstream herd-life over time (memories as terrible as those haunting her sleep, easily corroded the mildness of a feeble heart). Though the hard shell making her lovely dappled exterior seemed pleasant enough- normal even to the eye that had not known the sweet childish ignorance of the seasons past, internal conflict stirred her disquiet, and now with the darkness eating Helovia the Oracle could simply not unwind.

Wandering away from the Wall of History- a place where meditation aside from self-analysis came relatively quickly, the one-winged Oracle looked with a heavy gaze towards those still mingling in the room nearest to the doorstep into the open; The Sanctuary which seemed now to be as bustling and awkward as the pine-rich Threshold. More herds had come, though the natural relief which had welcomed them down had dwindled away. Although it had been decreed that all the population must meld together and resist the plague, Africa could not find peace while those Unicorns who had robbed her lived in the same quarters. She had not seen those present that day- yet, and certainly she wished never actually to find them at all. It was hard though, everyone was beginning to smell musty and dank; the dust of their homelands was fading fast.

Pale eyes found a few familiar faces scattered around the chamber, but none she particularly felt inclined to approach. The art of small talk had been lost for now, and the desire to push herself to interact was weak. Quite unpredictably though, intrigue was roused when she found Megaera near to the corridor which led outside, standing with another who did not look altogether well. Lethargically she approached, but her expression stiffened into a careful smile when the shadows released their grip. "Friends," she greeted the pair amiably (any winged horses were respected- except the blue, lightning mare from the northern forest), soft voice easily hiding the rampart disharmony beneath. "…I’m glad to see your safe return Megaera." Personally, Africa held no want to put herself in harm’s way- kudos to those braver than she. Thoughtfully she glanced to the stranger, dipping her face as a friendly gesture while quiet concern formed throughout the wrinkled sockets of her almond-shaped eyes. "I’m Africa, the herd’s Oracle. Are you alright?"

Africa

I listen to Megaera as she gives me a warning. If she thinks I would simply walk out about when there are demons lurking about she believes me a fool. Then she proceeds to give me an explanation of ranks. “Ah, not the type for skulking about? I assumed such a thing, but an informant sounds like something I could potentially thrive in, I’ll make sure to speak to those individuals you mentioned.” Humor laced my first words but it faded as I continued on. Funny how easily I can joke despite everything that had happened today. Honestly I don’t want to speak with anyone and just want to find a nice secluded place where I can simply process. My eyes shift towards a figure that comes toward us, and I find my interest piqued when I notice the lack of one wing. I do my best not to stare and shift my gaze as quickly as possible. Just like Megaera, this mare has flames roaring in her mane. My head cocks and my eyes narrow slightly, and I begin to wonder why these mortals bear such divine appearances.

Behind the one-winged mare comes a stallion. He’s smaller than each individual there, but I still find myself staring. Upon realizing the one-winged asked me a question I turn my gaze towards her. “I’m alive, so I consider that to be something.” I’ll never understand why these strangers hold any concern over my wellbeing. There is nothing I’ve done to earn it. If they knew who I was, then they’d most likely not want me anywhere near their band, as where I went death swiftly follows. For a period of time that could’ve been a literal statement, and my mind drifts back to the days where I had that angel of death glued to my hip. Only his fall had pulled us apart. “When I stumbled into this place there was no darkness, even after I was struck nothing came,” I snap my mouth shut as soon as the words come out and an alarmed expression crosses my face. The last thing I need for them is to ask questions. I do my best to regain composure and shift my face into it’s typical guarded and blank expression. Five hundred and forty seven days and I still haven’t remastered the art of concealing my feelings.

Pride wants me to spit on the gift these inferior beings are presenting before me, but I know better. I’ll wait until I’m healed and paid back my debt before I turn and search for something… There has to be something out there for me, and I don’t want to believe that it’s serving under a mortal. Right now I need to swallow my pride and use what has been presented to me, clearly these individuals are a gift from my father so I should appreciate it. “I know at the moment I am of no use to you and your herd, but once I am healed, I have every intentions of paying you back for the safety you have provided me with. I’m not a warrior, but have had much experience in the art of stealth.” And bloodshed. I wonder if the stallion will question such a statement with the youth that is written all across my features. There isn’t a single scar that blemishes my flesh despite the millennia of hunting and wars. There isn’t even a single sign of the wear and tear of time. However, there are scars upon the soul trapped within this vessel. There are signs of wear from the countless sunrises I’ve witnessed. Really I am tired and maybe it is time for a new chapter to begin in my life.

Even if my heart is heavy and there is an evil looming in this land, I will regard all of this a fresh start for me. Let a new page begin in the story of Hamaliel the Father’s prized.


"blah blah blah"

"Foraging..."

The smile lingered, perhaps not fooling the smaller bay nearly as easily as she had presumed it might. The thought of food was something Africa could not bear in recent months (such was the consequence of compounding stress), and though her concerned bonded often parted to gather staples and fruits for them both, his efforts were mostly in vain. The dappled mare’s pallid complexion tilted casually as Megaera introduced Lee, and warmth pooled quietly in the softness of her watching beige eyes. Indeed she knew the danger insinuated beneath the veil of informal chatter- the Oracle had ventured through the darkness above one time only since their descent into this mass tomb, and she had no desire to part with safety again.

Straying gaze fell beneath the gilt glare of the Sultan’s bright eyes and velvet nostrils rattled an otherwise silent greeting. Swivelling ears caught the light sound of Fina’s voice, but she barely reacted- half-heartedly her mind called for the star flanked Zephyr who so obviously favoured his opposite (in almost every single way). Midas' body pulled comfortably alongside the Oracle and all attention reverted back upon the newcomer while he spoke. Though the Threshold’s potential plunge into sickness was a flicker of worry; she stilled cared, still pined for the wellbeing of her family, Africa was more caught up about the swell of characters filling ‘their’ sanctuary- the horned ones, possible northerners.

Still, no other knew her anxiety or its foundation, so she bristled away those feelings for the time being. Boldly she nodded- hoping to appear likewise, as though her primary focus was along the lines of the darkness... and Lee.

Struck? The word caught the Oracle’s waning interest, drawing quickly both her long ears and lethargic gaze to investigate the overo’s expression a little more carefully- briefly though, she looked to both herd-mates to find their reaction; should they have noticed at all. Africa was a perceptive creature by nature and for the sake of her allotted career, and such curiosities did not pass her shrewd ability by so easily. His anxiousness was quickly masked with blandness and she chose to hold her tongue considerately- they all had secrets and wounds buried beneath life’s relentless passage; and she knew all too well unwillingness to share.

As his composure resumed, leaving no trace of that glance offered into his hidden past, Lee continued- presumably down another trail of thought and Africa followed cautiously; listening ever more closely to the manner of his speaking. He mentioned stealth and her nose wrinkled involuntarily. "I have not seen Shadow around for a long time..." the one-winged mare mentioned suddenly, wondering in respectful silence if their sister had been stolen as well. "...Before our Sun God’s warning was the last time. She would be your finest coach, if she were here...” Thoughts turned to the child which had been born to the Sleuth then, and her stomach sank heavily.

Africa