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From the East wheeled the familiar blur of sleek, brilliant black frosted in starlight which shone magnificently against a cloud strewn night sky. Silas had found no trace of the electric blue mare that had been raised with Africa to lead the dwindling few who wavered still beneath the weight of cynicism, their loyalty pledged to the rolling dunes and father of fire and light alone. Weeks had been left to pass by, idle moments in time that now filled her restless mind with guilt and regret. Had she failed the promise she had made so quickly; so easily? No. Although her motivation recently had grown stale, the commitment and devotion brimming always through an optimistic heart had not and she stepped now from the brink of ribbon emerald palms with renewed vigour. Africa would drive on, with or without Ampere at her side.

Pastel yellow eyes wandered upwards as the nearness of her companion’s shrewd mind intensified. They met in silent vigil, bright hope and insurgent strength fortifying a bond which had already withstood so much hardship; so many trials. As he dropped, swooped and veered towards where she had come to wait upon the soft slippery sands of their home, her chin too lifted in salutation and a quiet breath, held too long in anticipation, rattled her velvety nostrils. Though her lips remained tight and the delicate strum of her vocal chords still, she asked the roc hopefully if his patrol had found the trace of the other mare so longed for. His response filled her with overwhelming disappointment, a profound emptiness that forced long black lashes together. What could have happened?

Bravely Africa nodded, and again her gaze sought comfort beneath the steely violet eyes of the bird. While tides of faces, names and the memories they occupied seemed to scramble in and out of oblivion like waves combing the shoreline, they staggered on together- unbreakable, united. Perhaps without him, she might too have been lost to the sands of time, the rough legend of a one-winged mare whose purpose had never truly been found. The God of the Sun though had given her reason to believe in herself though, and it was to him she prayed silently, pleading for guidance and direction when her own determination floundered through pluming despair. The crown sat firm upon her brow; its dancing golden dragon’s casting quick glare to blind the stray of feeble thoughts whenever struck.

‘I can do this...’

The dappled Sultana continued on her way then, lean legs guiding the sweat laced bulk of her sinewy form towards her old post, the shrine which had always granted unquestionable comfort to a weary mind. Her spirituality was perhaps her saving grace, and she leaned heavily upon it now, eyes widening joyfully as golden-red flames twirled in the distance- welcoming her forward, she thought, warm and eternal. Silas glided above, always watching and ever present in her mind. The desert felt horribly lonely, and she felt bitterly responsible. Perhaps when dawn first straddled the horizon tomorrow, Africa would travel north to find those wandering the Threshold and offer to them refuge; whatever might entice them home.

(Ooc: Open to any, though I would love @[Cera] to join if you have time to call the God of the Sun.

Africa

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The visitor's coat held not the grim ambience of the night sheltering them, the mask of clever shadow and concealment cloaked around the zephyr who circled beyond the reach of the featherless. Perhaps it was the white frost which trailed Silas, embraced him, which caused the stallion’s strange gaze to lift and seek his heavenly lair. His own sharp lilac gaze sliced down through the darkness to hold the creature who wandered, scattering briefly from the masculine silhouette of paled brawn to find any accompanying. Dalibor was alone it seemed, no movement flanked him- though the zephyr’s nocturnal glare could see well past the vagueness of their kin. Much time had passed between the moment shared between all three in the Threshold; interactions more positive, encouraging, and the one-winged mare’s valiant guardian held no slighted grudge on her behalf.

The raven-dark bird, bathed in the opulence of a well gifted night, quickened the silent stroke of his wings- only subtly, so that he was soon gliding over the top of his beloved. Casting a sharp eye backwards to find the stallion’s progress, Silas wheeled away to the right to carry on with his solitary, high altitude scouting.

The sand was warm, sunlight trapped beneath its slippery loose level and her step was cushioned comfortably, and muffled as she strode on to descend the dune. Likewise, there seemed no chance for her forward striven ears to find the approach of the male. Should not the flash of his drifting path have been pushed through her mind by the avian above, Africa might have jumped when first his voice brushed so carefully the air between them. Already though she was turning, long strong forelegs dressed in dust-lathered white guiding the slim curve of her fit feminine frame around to meet him.

The young grey almost blushed- she was thankful for both the cover of darkness around them, and for that bleak pallid shade upon her face which buried such bashfulness from sight. "Sad?" She bluffed, forcing quickly a brave smile to sit across her dry, whiskered lips. The art of deception had never been her forte, and already the awkward switch of her long thick tail and the slight guilty sway of her lithe body, had revealed the accuracy in his perception. "I was thinking, that’s all..." Again Africa smiled, though the second was less strained; it was warm and welcoming. She took a graceful step towards Dalibor, drinking deeply the thick stench of him through greedy nostrils.

The stallion’s stark, eerie eyes had glanced clear of her own milky stare and her neck curled around beneath a hedge of licking flame to find that firelight matching, which had snared his interest. The shrine, the sacred fire of the Diviner lay close and Africa sighed pensively as she turned back to the muttered sound of his unnecessary apology. Gentle eyes drifted down to find ebony knees striving away from her, one gold hoof dulled without bright daylight; pulling the attractive limber roan from her grasp. "Stay!" She called quickly through the stillness of the night, the ring of her plea smooth and inviting; quietly melodic. "Why don’t you come with me to the fire?" She asked with a brisk shrug of her rippling shoulders, "It’s been such a long time between chats, don’t you think?"

She was turning, guiding him with a playful snort and glint in her lash-lined eye, wishing him to follow if no greater duty called his heart away.

Africa

Somewhere upon the sands, a magnolia tree shaded the clay that rested at its base, a home to a stallion that had long since grown out of foalhood. Memories were embedded in every branch and flowering bud, notches in wood that signified the moments in his life that had led him down the path he had ended up taking. A ladder of events that marked his growth, for it had beneath that magnolia's shade that Cera had grown up. After they had been driven beneath the earth, sunless and scared, Cera had gazed forlornly down at the sand that used to house such weighted tracks. For so long now, only his prints were the ones that remained, found returning to the home that Midas had raised him into. Tracks that once belonged to his father no longer depressed the sand, all traces of life aside Cera's and Ilaria's removed. As if Midas had never existed.

It had been nigh unbearable to return and sleep beneath its boughs without his father. But time had eased the hurt. And when he had returned home with questions answered and hope defeated, it had been Amani he had reunited with. And now the sands had two pairs of hooves once more to grace its surface. Together they banished each other's loneliness, and in tribute to his father, Cera began to raise her and impart in her the same lessons he had been taught.

That evening he had drawn himself up early from rest, Ilaria remaining behind with Amani as Fina always had for Cera, ensuring she would not wake up alone if she stirred during the night. The breathtaking view of the constellations was obstructed by the clouds that loved to gather for spring storms and sudden monsoons, shielding the moonsilver light that could have guided him. Mornings and afternoons were spent with Amani, and so Cera would not sacrifice their time together so soon after she had decided to follow him home. He craved the heat of the shrine he so often visited, on lonely nights and days of praise in which he graciously thanked the heavenly god of light and warmth for what had been gifted to him.

It was a travel well-known but shortly done, the flames an inviting glow nearby. The closer he became to the heart of it the warmer his body grew, chasing away the night chill that so often pervaded the desert. Knees bent and bowed reverently, head dipping to press muzzle to the amulet Amani had filled for him, the first step of the quest the Sun God had bestowed upon him. Cera would show him that it was not a mistake, choosing the painted youth to carry out his commands. He would prove himself worthy of the gift, the honor, the Sun Lord intended to give him should his trials be completed.

It was unknown how many hours slipped by as he stared peacefully into the flames, a peace broken only by a soft shout across the sands. "Stay!" Cera's harks lifted in attentiveness, the voice familiar enough for him to recall a name; Africa. Intrigued and perhaps a touch concerned, no other words forthcoming from the darkness, the youth rocked to his hooves and set out across the sands with the flames at his back. Africa was illuminated only slightly by the reach of the light from the fire, but her form was easily found. The other stallion was unknown to him, nameless, but he suspected in time titles would be traded.

"Evening, m'lady," he greeted softly, announcing his presence with a prior soft whicker. "Is your mind ill at ease?" Concern crinkles his vibrant green gaze, pale ivory lashes framing them as he sweeps over her form to ensure she is uninjured. A smile is directed towards Dalibor, a tilt of his head encouraging the other brute to come along with the two of them. It was presumably the fires that Africa had traveled to see, after all.

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I don't know if he's aware of being Diviner or not here <3 I can easily make it so! Your choice dearest. Also yay for Cera muse!

@[Dalibor] and @[Africa]

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At once she felt at ease in Dalibor’s company. It was a gullible safety that drew from what she considered to be a rather candid character; no frills about him, no reason to second guess. Even while plaguing worry had moments before glazed the soft gentleness of her stare, his ability to distract those thoughts, to pull her away into a world of intrigue and unexpected attraction- no matter how fanciful, was more than welcome. She was not the wisest judge of character, but enough experience was notched into her sleek, slender girth to suggest that this golden-eyed stallion was dependable. His question hovered between them, even as her tanned hooves dabbled forward through the supple sand and his moved to join. The one-winged thought deeply, broodingly, about how she might answer but soon enough the soft whicker of still another stallion broke her focus.

Cream-hued eyes lifted at once to meet the night-darkened, emerald gaze of Cera as his wander ceased by her and Dalibor. Prior to the meeting called together by she and Ampere when first the God of the Sun had brought them home, he had been all but a legend woven into the sunburnt land; a name held so close by the heart of her gold-wielding friend and mentor. Since that day though, the progeny of sun and sand itself- the epitome of Dragon’s Throat, bore a face she could recognise and appreciate. Not forgetting her bay-spotted company there scribbled with scars; a treasure trove of tales to captivate her curious mind and ravenous gaze, Africa turned her lavishly lashed eyes to invite him closer. Her long thick tail flicked placidly through the tug of a mild breeze, bright flames twirling playfully throughout its significant length and she turned again to Cera to reply.

"Hi Cera..." the delicate tune of benevolence slipped from the smiling part of her dry grey lips. "All is well brother," she told gently for the second time that night. She had little want to burden them with all of the worry and fear coursing through her veins for the welfare of her family and their home. Africa was not deceitful by nature though, and much like her vain attempt to conceal the truth from Dalibor, she failed dismally then before the Throat’s son. Only now could she relate to all that Midas had confided in her, about the inevitable weight of leadership and the overwhelming accountability as well. She smiled on obliviously, shifting her weight left across clicking knees to allow the yellow-eyed stallion still nearer if it pleased him.

"Have you both met before now?" Africa asked then, pausing and passing a curious look between them. "Dalibor," she began warmly trying to retrieve the stray of what she imagined to be discomforted eyes. "This is Cera. He has served Dragon’s Throat still longer than I- since he was just a boy. " Unreservedly she looked towards the painted stallion, caramel and white glowing subtly against the darkness of the night, and remarked, "Dalibor is a fine warrior Cera, perhaps among the greatest of our army." It was a generous speculation indeed, but the one-winged mare had witnessed his prowess some time ago in the Threshold, and the network of scarring across his hide- those quite prominent across his face, seemed reason enough to believe. What did Africa know of the arts of battle...

[Ooc: Poor Dalibor haha, bless him. I will use this thread to make Cera's appointment official IC ;) I'm so bad at remembering to tag, so if you would prefer me to just let me know.]

Africa

Despite their years together, residing in the land where the sun never seemed to sink, Cera had never grown close to the one-winged maiden of the desert. It was by no fault of her own, for the youth was a ghost in his own home, a name all knew but a face easily forgotten. Popular by association with his father. He had been a quiet, broken child. Truly, he had gotten to know nearly none of his herdmates, and while he regretted it in his adulthood he was also aware that the past could not be changed. It was unlikely he could have coped with his emotional pitfalls had he known too many others in the Throat. Regardless, her gentle silver face was known to him, and he smiled pleasantly at his Sultana. Dalibor approached from behind, and Cera blinked quietly at the man, wondering why he seemed so stiff and uncomfortable. Only then did he realize his fault, and shame flushed his face. "Ah, apologies sir. My name is Cera. I didn't intend to be rude, I at times am consumed with too much worry to notice others," he offered quietly, smiling in the same lopsided manner he'd always had, boyish and unassuming. Africa's troubled visage had consumed him, and it was a shameful habit he had, to be overly concerned with those with troubled minds.

Gentle lyrics caress his ears, and head turns to his ruler, finding no reply awaiting on his tongue as she responded with a simple greeting. Merely bowed head respectfully, aware of the power she held, the commands she could set upon the entirety of them even with such soft, kindly vocals the bearers of the news. Even so, disbelief creased his young features, and he hummed softly. "Excuse my boldness, my Lady, but I wish you would not conceal the truth so. I do not doubt it is your desire to keep your own burdens, is that true? I assure, I would not mind lending an ear or whatever advice I could give." It's almost amusing, how he offers such advice, for he is younger than her in considerable amounts. Does she see the wisdom inside him? The experiences that had weathered him until he matched her similarly in seasons?

Crown shakes slowly as the brother he had incidentally overlooked is introduced, pausing only to nod respectfully towards the Spear. A humble expression is produced at her words, touched by the fact that she regarded him so highly. Bright emeralds turned to Dalibor. "I have no doubt in your words, Sultana. It's a pleasure, Dalibor." He is rankless, and as such bows one leg forth in respect towards the other warrior. Cera is well accustomed to the life of soldiers, had followed in his father's footsteps on that path of protection and devotion, and he did not regret it.

Turning slightly, he flicked a pale ear and regarded them, beckoning them closer. "Come, let us speak by the shrine. It is a comforting presence, perhaps you will see we do not mind bearing your troubles, m'Lady, and may have leave of your burdens." Whether or not they take him up on his offer, the young stallion turned aside and quietly moved back towards the shrine that offered him so much peace and security.

@[Dalibor] and @[Africa] So sorry! I'm never this slow, and now school is out this will be moving better <3

DALIBOR

The soldier felt little shift in his breast as this...child...apologized to him for being so caught up in his own pathetic emotions that he neglected to see another being nearby.

Worry?

Worry took years off your life, made you irritable and irrational; worry wasn't a set of blinders to another fucking body nearby. Dalibor neglected to draw closer to Africa though he saw the physical invitation.

It was already obvious to him that he could not continue to be here, not with what his mind had hoped he might experience and achieve this night.

His brief glance to his leader was apologetic as he drew his wings more tightly to his body, slicking the feathers down in an effort not to outwardly show that he wanted to assert dominance and run this little toddler off with a few well-placed snaps of his teeth. The stallion was aware his anger was likely somewhat misplaced but he didn't give a damn. And when the little shit opened his mouth again and spoke with such nauseating politeness that he wanted to snarl at him to grow a fucking pair of balls, tiny and pathetic as they might be, any guilt he might have felt at his extreme dislike for this other pegasus vanished like windblown smoke.

Some aloe was rubbed on the raw, open wound of his self-assurance in this situation when Africa claimed him to be perhaps one of the greatest soldiers the Dragon's Throat had, and his expression softened like the give of sand against pressure.

Cera's statement that it was a pleasure to meet him made him snort. "It's all yours," he replied dryly.

Dalibor took a step back when he indicated they should follow to the shrine - probably where Africa had been headed anyhow - and regarded his leader. "I don't mind listening, but I don't do group therapy," he told the one-winged mare, reticence written in the scars of his face. "Maybe we will speak another time."

Turning away, the warrior took leave of the situation, anger still burning in him like the patient coals of an old fire, waiting to be lighted once more.


@[Africa]
@[Cera]

"Typi non habent claritatem insitam; est usus legentis in iis qui facit eorum claritatem."


OOC: 465432135 million years later T.T No one has to reply if they don't want to, I just wanted to wrap up Dalibor's angst properly.

the darkest hour never comes in the night