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Africa missed terribly the crude intimacy she had been forced to quell; it was wrought through her personality like knots blemishing an oak. Her feelings knew not malice or cunning, but she craved the affection that she had always dealt so freely to those around her. She pined, but shied too from the thought of shackles and chains. She was a willow-the-wisp, untethered and fickle, though in recent times that spirit had been tarnished by the greed of those who for whatever reason lusted after unwavering commitment- it was something she could not yet offer. No matter how cruelly they sought to manipulate.

Love...

Still she pondered the concept... the word. Like the flesh pink wound marring her shoulder, love was a scar through her mind. She shied from its affliction and its lack of compromise. As a girl, the bond between her parents had painted such a desirable fantasy that for most of her life Africa had been waiting, wishing and above all, watching for the moment which would mark the beginning of her own romantic union. She was an idealist; she always would be in many ways, cursed by the fables etched by her dream-weaver mother, gazing ever on with faithful eyes. He had crushed her greatest hope though, ruined the memory she had always aspired to, so quickly and so easily. Her heart resented him for it, and though often he had returned to perhaps salvage some form of the friendship which had been, the Starry-Eyed felt as though she could not forgive him. Not while his wrath rang still deafeningly through her vulnerable ears.

The evening was clear and the moon gazed quietly down upon her while she dabbled through the waves crumbling across the southern-mainland beach. Though she ached for companionship, she shied from the complications it brought and resolved there in private to enjoy the peace the darkening hours allowed. Silas watched on warily from the skeleton of a scorched tree still further up the shore, where once it had found rare nutrients in the clay-strewn soil flanking the Heart. He could feel the tension of her latest appointment straining through the simplicity of her mind; see the loneliness tight across her dappled hide, but there was naught he could do to ease the pressure building. Certainly he knew not where those she once called friends had gone. The small zephyr could only sympathise with her plight and act through the closeness of their bond.

Her stride was restless as she wandered still further from the bridge leading home. Even in the ever dimming half-light, she could see the sodden loam beneath was ugly. It was not golden or red like the splendour of wild desert hues, and it was sticky, sucking hungrily as each hoof rose from its muddy midst. There were no shells there to distract her, no pebbles to collect, smoothed by a lifetime beneath the churning current of the sea. Her whiskered nose lifted away with a sigh and she forced the roll of a shrug through her powerful, sloping shoulders. Africa was procrastinating again. It was time to head north, to trawl through those wandering the Threshold, and bring home those who fancied the lifestyle Dragon’s Throat offered. The young Sultana turned towards her waiting friend and smiled affectionately; jadedly. Really, she had not any time to lose.

Africa

Satanic Silk

I've hurried to the caves as fast as I can. Seeking solace in the darkness, in the memories that still hover there, waiting for me to experience them again. I'd beat hard against the wind to reach the cavernous rooms, hoping against hope that I may find her there. Her. It'd been so long since I'd seen her, since I'd started looking. But of course, luck had not been with me and though I had searched, it was all in the vain. I'm not sure how much more I can take. What if I never find her? Surely Helovia cannot be that big, can it?

What if I'm not finding her because she left? But why would she do that, she seemed so attached to the residents of Helovia and to the Gods that rule here. What if she's dead? The thought hits me and I feel like I've been stabbed through with a blade, my heart bleeding out to the ground. No. No, surely the darkness could not have taken her. Midas would not have allowed that, right? The Sun God would not have allowed it! Inside the sanctuary, memories of her flowing around me, I can't imagine that anything could have happened to her. And yet I can. I try to force the pessimism from my mind. Like a drug habit that you just can't kick, it's back and full force within me. I can't even bear to search through the rest of the caves, and find myself fleeing outside for fresh air. Anything at all to clear my mind would be appreciated.

I skid to a stop outside the caves, my nostrils flaring as I take in as much oxygen as I can manage. My lungs expand painfully, but I know that pain means they're working. Thank the Gods for that, at least. The feathers that hang in my mane bounce gently against my neck, carried by the breeze that flows through the night air. But as I stand there, trying to regain control over myself, a scent catches my attention.

No.. it can't be, can it? Have I really gotten so lucky? I couldn't forget her scent, not ever. I'm sure I'm not mistaken. Now my heart aches, but not with pain, but with joy. Apprehension fills me at the thought that I might be wrong, that this may be some horrible trick of my mind. Am I hallucinating smells? Fuck it. I have to find out. I spin and take off at a gallop in the direction of the scent. I have to find her.

I can't believe my eyes. And I'm so distracted that I nearly bowl into her wandering form. Wing tucked to her side, mane and tail blowing gracefully in the wind. I skid to a stop just past her and turn around, nearly tripping on my own legs in my hurry. Hooves planted as I am out of breath for all the right reasons. In my peripheral vision I see Silas overhead, keeping his bonded company. But my eyes are only for her. The dappled mare that stole my heart the first time we met. The one that cast me as lovestruck.

Africa.



Walk. Talk.

hungry for life

100%
Mild salty wind moaned eerily as it swirled off the deep choppy cove between the far southern desert peninsula, and the mainland. Although it was not as frigid as the cold mountain gusts beyond the Foothills, it cooled the slight sweat which had leaked to dull Africa’s puddly-grey coat as she traipsed away from the water’s edge. For a moment she hesitated, turning with narrowing lash-lined eyes to gaze out across the waves which had in turn devoured the magnificent progress of the Throat’s wall. It was a fleeting thought, random and hasty; spurred by the unrelenting wind’s cry, but she wanted to be certain that no foe would be capable of penetrating her territory through its midst- there could be no way, unless by flight. Exhaling loudly, the Starry-eyed turned away a final time.

She paused at the base of the old tree where Silas waited patiently, watching always, like a silent sentinel in the night. Bright violet, shrewd and sharp, met the soft subtle sandy hue of the mare’s gaze as it wandered upwards to greet and embrace him. A new maturity had set through his character; brooding and dark like the sleek black strewn beneath murky accents of purple cloaking him. He was fiercely protective over the keeper of his heart- far more than ever before.

He heard first the muffled drum of hooves, felt its vibration beneath the whispering wind. Africa remained blissfully unaware that another approached, upwind and conscious only of the thrash of that sea to her rear. The hunched zephyr’s small skull turned towards the burning lake where the thick column of smoke and ash gushed ever upwards and through pinning pupils, scanned the area there from whence the movement seemed to have come.

Curiously she followed the shift of her friend’s attention, glancing with him towards the Heart Caves, though none the wiser about for what they were searching. Soon enough though, she too became aware of the stallion as he barrelled unexpectedly out of the darkness- too close already for her to really be able to react. Shadows seemed envelope him, swallow him, and it unsettled her enough to cause a jerking backward retreat. Above her, the bird’s wings were opening into a glittering haze of star-light and she could feel a fury brewing through his mind.

"Wait!"

Her voice choked frantically, the quiet gentleness of its tenor cloaked suddenly in panic. Already the zephyr was riding wrathfully upon the thrust of his great wingspan, preparing an assault through warped time-speed. He had become proficient in the art, melding easily the light of day or obscurity of night at will; slowing and speeding the world as it spun so erratically around them. "Silas please wait..." She cried again, though this time pleading through their bound minds. The bird startled at the sound of his beloved’s desperation, lifting away at once in a vast circle into the sparkling world above.

The stallion had by then barrelled past, dodging with skill the propped figure of the Starry-eyed as her expression caught between the throes of confusion and delight. She turned upon lean, strong legs right as he did, not quite believing the reality descending upon her. "Silk?" She gasped breathlessly, anxiously, reaching with trembling lips to touch him; to find the warmth of life beneath the black gloss of his taught shoulder.

Africa

Satanic Silk

Of course Silas would want to attack me. I wouldn't expect anything different from the zephyr that I commonly butt heads with. Except, of course, I don't realize that the reason he wants to attack is not necessarily because it is me but because I am a large creature that headed straight for his beloved at top speed. I would probably have wanted to attack me, too. But Africa called out to him, and though at first it seemed to have not worked, something changed his mind a few moments later, and instead of pain in my body, he is rising up in the sky, away from us equines. Well thank the Gods for that....

She had turned to look at my approaching form, and as I turn around now to look at her, so she turns as well. The surprise and disbelief on her face mirrors mine - though more exaggerated than my own. Clearly she expected to see me less than I expected to see her. I wonder, in a moment of terrible soul-tearing doubt, if part of the question in her voice was that she did not want to see me again. Is there a chance that I've been mistaken and walking down a path to my own heartbreak? Is there, at all, a chance that this is unrequited love? Surely she knows that I love her - I told her in the caves before my departure. But then, she never called back. How do I know how she feels? If I were a human the color would have drained from my face to leave me clammy and pallid.

But whatever concerns fill my bones and shake my confidence, she is quick to erase them, and I feel my strength of mind, body, and heart restored. She reaches out with her velvet muzzle, seeking my body. And then I realize what I missed - hope. Though surely I heard surprise and disbelief in her voice, I had missed the hope that gave her question a subtle lift. The worry that clutches my heart falls away, and that big red muscle pounds hard in my chest, ready to burst from the cavity that holds it.

Her lips meet my shoulder and I feel my body go from trembling - I was trembling? - to melted butter. She soothes the burning inside me, my soul crying. Her velvet lips are tender on my smooth hairs, caressing the skin, my muscles rippling beneath my twitching hide. I don't even remember what it is like to be touched so tenderly - did I ever know before? My eyes roll back slightly in my head, and after a moment my eyelids close. I wrap my head and neck around hers, cradling her soft grey form beneath my black one. My heartbeat slows, thudding hard still in my chest, but slower and calmer. This is where I need to be.

Africa... You don't know how much I've missed you.

Walk. Talk.

Tags: @[Africa], WC: 490, OOC: All the feels!

hungry for life

100%
Her chest heaved, desperate to restore the breath which had been purged to accommodate her harried plea to the zephyr who was by then too high above them to be seen any longer. Now they had been left alone, at the base of Helovia, waves still cashing metrically across the muddy beach, and Africa felt the bitter sting of rising uncertainty through her core. It had been so long since that fateful day in The Sanctuary; the crushing moment that he was expelled from the midst of the living and well. In many ways Africa had fallen with him, into the pits of her own despair and grief- though she had not wallowed so terribly like she had in the past. The memory was quite vivid; the fraught sound of his voice sinking down upon the watching, bewildered crowd; his declaration to her alone made public. But the dappled mare had been terrorized by the prospect of his illness, doubting his love, figuring it only to be the hungering lure of a wraith. She had quashed then her own feelings and pushed his memory as far from her mind as she was able. It had been all she could do to keep from falling into the grim grip of depression again.

Africa craned her neck right, stretching impulsively to let her lips fumble through the bed of small, fluffy feathers across the arm of her wing. With not a second's thought she plucked one, letting it roll briefly between the delicate clasp of her teeth before it fell away and spiralled down to the mud.

That moment was brief, perhaps a second only, and the pink-snipped nose plunged back towards his warmth. Right now he did not seem to be stricken down by any such ailment, nor was his flesh rotten and peeling away from his bones. Terrified of losing him like she had earlier, Africa pressed closer, shifting across stiff knees before he could abandon this new perfect reality. Fuelling the fantasy (though she wondered still more if that was actually what it was), the crimson tattoos scoring the face of her crush drew near, and his burly neck curled tenderly around the elegant curve of her own. Wild flames engulfed him there, licking through his silvery mane, inspired by the whirl of her emotion. "I thought..." She hummed tenderly as she nuzzled close into the flesh of his breath. She felt safe- the Starry-Eyed felt complete. "...I thought you were gone." Never had Africa felt before like she did then. It was confusing indeed, but with adrenaline tangling through the surge of her blood, she had not the ability to question it. Like the first moment they had met upon the sandy shore of the Throat, she longed for the taste of his thick sweat to linger in her nostrils for eternity; to feel forever the throb of his heart against her.

"Are you well? Have you been hurt?" She blurted suddenly, softly voice quivering nervously. She pulled clear of his embrace, worried creamy eyes hunting the black sheen of his form through the darkness (not that she could see terribly well), for any sign of harm. Steadily they rose to find then his eye where it lay hidden beneath the blood crescent-moon. "Come, I can take you to the Sun Physician. She will cleanse you." Troubled words spewed from her trembling lips, and should she not have wanted so desperately to keep him in her sight, Africa would have turned again to pull another feather, and then another.

Africa

Satanic Silk

There's something.. different.. about the mare in front of me. Though she is as gorgeous as ever and my heart swells with appreciation for her mere presence, something has definitely changed. Oh yeah, maybe it's the flaming mane and tail. Somehow I was so distracted I didn't even notice this completely, glaringly obvious change. A moment of panic rises in me, threatening to suffocate me, and my brain and body freeze. I'm sure she feels the tenseness in my body. But before I can violently fling myself away, I realize that the flame does not hurt me. My body relaxes again into her embrace. I don't know why she's on fire, why that doesn't bother her, or why it doesn't hurt me. Lots of why's. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that she's here with me and the part of me that has been longing for her for so long feels like maybe, just maybe, it can be pieced back together again.

I thought you were gone. Her voice quivers and I feel my own insides shudder. I never want to leave her with that doubt. What she does not know, what in this moment I can't even bring to my lips, is that I will never leave her again. She is my beloved and she may not even fully realize it. I will be with her and she will be with me, and nothing will ever come between us again.

Be here with me tonight, and I'll be fine. A cliché thing to say for sure, but it's the truth of the matter, the truth of my heart. She is the light in my eyes, the light of my life. The wounds that she perceives are no longer on me or within me. But the wounds on my spirit, on my being, my psyche that are imperceptible - they will always be there. Those experiences as darkness incarnate will always be with me, molding who I am today. But just as they have molded me, so can she mold me. I will be malleable to her flame as she shapes me to her will and I will be content.

She releases me from her embrace as she frets over my body. It feels good, heartwarming to have someone care that I'm alright - to that level of detail and concern. I offer her a soft smile. The only cleansing I need is your forgiveness. I was taken by darkness and I left you - but every word I said.... I wait, wanting her to know which words in particular I'm referencing. Every word was true. Heart pounding my chest, my flaxen mane still against my body, it seems only my insides are churning. I wonder if she feels what I do - not just the feelings, but the physical pain that is now occurring from not being able to touch her. I reach my muzzle toward hers - contact, I need to feel her. Her velvets against mine - please, love, let me inside. Open your heart to me and let me protect you. Let me protect you and love you like you ought to be loved....

My Africa.

Walk. Talk.
@[Africa], 523

hungry for life

100%
Her ears throbbed to the rhythm of her surging pulse. Even the muffled churn of the waves behind them seemed not to be able to penetrate the moment unfolding, and her heart beat furiously beneath the pad of her dappled breast as raw emotion swelled and swirled through her core. She seemed suddenly to be blind to the world spinning around them; giddy, drunk on the growing euphoria. It seemed so surreal that the lust once felt had been braver than her fear, but it rose now above the panic and confusion, flushing through her veins like melted snow spilling down from the northern ranges. They were still strangers in so many ways, yet beneath the rusted face of that old Orangemoon moon; some connection had been made that had apparently survived the crushing devastation of disease and grief. Africa still cared so deeply for him- she had mourned his death, unable to sleep for many nights in the cave, and lived through the plaguing nightmares where he called; desperate and helpless. Their affection had defied the Darkness, and grown.

They were aglow in the night, flames dancing wildly to the writhing emotions she felt, and it seemed only to set the mood more; delicate warmth seemed to embrace them (though truly, there was only the mild touch of Tallsun’s first breath). Africa gazed up at him, her pale-golden eyes stricken with concern, cast in the grim shadow of disbelief; shoulders hunched beneath the ripple of her sinewy, downcast neck. He spoke, but she was not easily pulled from the chaotic churn of reservations in her mind. She nodded, almost obediently. Where had he been though for so long? Had the waters of the Earth cleansed him properly? She had heard naught about him for months, and it bothered her, troubled her already wounded credulity. His confession, the revelation that it had not in fact been the sickness toying, eased some pain, and she managed a smile; gentle and meek.

My Africa

He offered not the word she loathed so much, but his tones instead were lathered with so much more. They held the worth that she had thought love should; the yearning, true hunger, and she could not withhold from him, the same way she had been able to with Windwalker. Still her heart beat faster, almost rattling then against the ribs surrounding as she reached to meet the touch of his lips. She sighed deeply, drawing first a lengthy breath filled with the intoxicating stench of him; that which she had lived without already for much too long. "But where have you been?" She asked him quietly, the sound of her voice a mere whisper over the course of the breeze. Her mind seemed to clear a little, her body to sober, and Africa’s whiskered chin fell away to her breast. "Why didn’t you come sooner?" She had to know...

Africa

Satanic Silk

Her body so close to mine, I can barely feel the breeze that blows and lifts our manes, swirling it around us. The smell of the sea is but a whisper in the back of my mind. All that I can think of is her. But those beautiful brown eyes - those brown eyes that I could get lost in. Their detail, emotion, so full of thoughts that she hides from me. She's always kept things from me, and though I pry (how did she lose her wing?) she always evades me with a riddle. But now I can see what she's thinking, I can read and feel the turmoil that is in her heart, in her mind. I can see the accusations and see the hurt. She's desperate for answers and I've provided none, none to soothe the hurt that has wounded her and left her suffering. I will do whatever I can now to make up for the pain that I've caused her.

Her muzzle reaches to mine, and I feel my whole body shudder as our soft velvet noses touch. Her nostrils against mine, her lips against mine. I quake again, legs visibly shaking. How she reduces me to pile of quivering nerves and muscles, unable to resist the minute sensation that rocks my mind. I can feel her breath reflected in my own, shallow as we try to reckon the reunion that we've arrived at. She sighs audibly, and I feel her exhalation caress the gentle hairs on my muzzle, and as I know she has inhaled my scent, I inhale her feminine musk. Her pheromones drive me mad, and while I know my mind is swirling like a tempest sea, my blood is pumping through my veins, lustfully reacting to biological temptations.

Before I can get my fill, however, she pulls her delicate nose away from me, tucking it against her breast, as though she is shy in my presence. And with her next words, I can understand why she might want to hide her face. What she says cuts into me, wounds me like a sharp knife between the ribs. Where have you been? Why didn't you come sooner? There is nothing unfair about her questions, and I know that she deserves answers. I have nothing to hide. I was infected at the beginning.... And I was one of the last to be healed by Midas and Hector. I look off to the distance, avoiding eye contact. It is emotional for me to recall the events in the caves, and I feel my voice choking up. I returned to the caves of my own will, the infection was killing me. I begged Midas and Hector to put me out of my misery. Still, I look off in the darkness, and I think I see the sun beginning to rise, shedding baby rays of light on to our forms and warm our bodies so that we will be come as warm on the outside as we are on the inside, our own radiating heat. Instead, they saved me. I owe them my life. I stop, feeling tears well in the corners of my eyes. I blink them away, feeling vulnerable in front of the one I've already sworn to myself to protect. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and I feel myself shake as the breath rattles unevenly through me. I grit my teeth as I look back at the beautiful grey mare, struggling to hold myself together. I've been searching for you ever since, and somehow - through some painful fate - you've always evaded my gaze.

Beautiful Africa, don't you know I love you? I've looked and looked, gone through every land I to find you. I thought you'd be with Midas and you weren't. I thought you'd be in the Dragon's Throat but I dared not enter without invitation and I could not tell if you were there. I've searched and searched my love. I met your Patron God; I thought you'd be there. I lower my head to hers again and try to press my cheek against hers. I want her to feel the tears that have fallen unbidden down my dark cheeks, to know the hurt I have felt and the regret that I feel for causing her so much pain. When I speak, it is with a quiet, throaty whisper. Forgive me.

Walk. Talk.
Tag: @[Africa], WC: 733, OOC: Continued feels. <3 Silk is crying, and I'm all teared up.

hungry for life

100%
Moments were let to pass, seconds perhaps, that felt to the stricken mare like aeons, spinning way beyond her control. She knew no other side of him than the romantically tender soul who stood there so graciously in her presence. The hurt in her heart was not so binding that she could not climb above the dwindling darkness; the snapping jaws of depression that often sought to drag her from reality. Even as she felt driven again subliminally to pull yet more feathers from her wing, Africa knew that no maliciousness lurked beneath the pleading of his crimson-stained stare. She could not turn from him and was pulled quickly from disheartenment by the soft care in his tones. He was so unlike Windwalker. Thickly lashed eyes clenched against the memory of the manipulator, he had no place in her heart; in this moment. Silk paused, and the turn of his burning eyes caught her attention. Vaguely she followed, pale pools too wandering afar, though always her ears remained set forward- well natured, trusting his broken revelation.

She thought of Midas, another name who brought a wince to her expression. He had been her sounding board, her logic and balance for the many years shared by the cool, clear waters of the oasis. When Africa had been naught by a reckless child, he had offered her direction and calmness. As a golden-eyed General, he had rescued her and even after, when his grace had been set to power overall the Throat, he remained like a father figure, understanding and wise. For a long while she had adored him, followed and fantasised, but as her mind matured she valued him still more as perhaps the closest of her friends. It had been one season and a bit since the one-winged had set fond eyes upon the Gallant, and she missed him terribly. Such a void had been left when he had vanished, and often she stood by the northern shores of her home waiting...

She had been waiting for so long.

The sound of his voice choking overwhelmed her consciousness, and her gaze fell quickly back to caress him, comfort him as he continued to explain. His own eyes remained cast away, absent, lost beneath the spew of his thoughts and memories, she thought quietly. She could see a faint glow reflecting as they roamed the eastern horizon absently- dawn perhaps would soon flood the land.

Silk’s words suddenly waned, emotion racked voice suspended as the breeze died around them. She watched him caringly; unable to hold back when his eyes began to blink helplessly at hot tears swelling. Supple nose moseyed forward again, to reassure him that no grudge was held; that she would stand by, no matter what weight needed to be shed from his shoulders. She did not want him to feel the guilt that now stifled his expression. Tenderly she stroked with loose lips against the stiff, shivering plane of his shoulder. He went on and she listened, stepping closer, pressing her cheek back in place against the trembling pad of his black breast. He had been looking for her- and her mind began at once to hum adoringly; unavoidably flattered that he had cared so much. The stallion’s face lowered soon after, and the grey’s pale mask rose to meet it, to lean heavily upon his offered cheek. She could feel the warmth of his tears which had streamed down through his fur, and though tearless herself (a lifetime’s worth of suffering had dried away her ability to cry truly), she indulged the hopeful croak of his request with, "I do..."

Silence fell across them.

"Silk?" She started quietly, sliding slowly the curve of her back beneath his chin, stopping only to nuzzle affectionately the mane-clad peak of his withers. "Are you coming home now?" There was a desperation lacing so slightly her tone, a need to have him close by; to never lose him again. So much had changed already, and in those moments by the light of the moon, a new strength had surged through her core, a warmth and passion; completeness.

Africa

Satanic Silk

The surge of emotion has not left me. Joy, sadness, pain. They're all swirling inside my mind, inside my heart. How I can bear to feel all of them at once is beyond my capacity to understand. Maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm not meant to understand, but only to feel what comes naturally. There is no doubt that this is what comes naturally. She comes naturally. My cheek against hers, she reassures me and I feel my heart swell. The heat of her cheek, the gentle hairs. My chest aches with real physical pain, these psychosomatic realizations taking over me. There is no way I can walk away from this moment unchanged, altered forever. And that's okay with me: I don't want to be unchanged, to be impervious to the brush of life that paints a new picture everyday and makes life what it truly is. I don't want to be so stone-hearted that the beautiful mare's interactions would leave me the same as the day before. Deep down I know that could never be. The moment I met her she struck my curiosity and I found myself in a new world, already changed for the better, for good.

Her words are soft and they soothe my heart. "I do." She says she forgives me, and I wonder for half a second if her words are a farce. Does she lead me on to... No, there is no logic behind that. Africa has no cause for insincerity other than being a soul who seeks to comfort. But her comfort now is real. I can feel it in my bones, and all doubt is washed from me. I feel more solid on my feet, knowing that my apology is accepted and forgiveness granted. Restoration. It's feasible, a goal that is not so out of sight now. There can be good, life. I know that I can come out of this stronger, and so can she. I will be there for her and make sure every moment is better than the last. Will she let me prove that to her? I'm almost afraid to ask. Maybe she's forgiven me, but then maybe... Maybe there's another by now. Windwalker. I remember him a little bit, and remember the rageful jealousy that spread like a virus inside of me. I feel it now starting to burn again inside me.

Only her next words can bring me back from the dark place my heart and mind are headed. Her question, so innocent and simple, but layered with such emotion: hope, a pang of sadness even. Of course she doesn't know that this is a question that I've wanted to hear so badly. I'm not sure I even knew I wanted to hear it - but to come home? I want to be with her, wherever it is. No matter where she goes I will follow. Of course I care about Midas, and I would hate to leave someone that has been so good to me. But I could never leave Africa, not again. Over my dead body. Her neck curved around mine, her lips against my silky silver mane. I hug her to me with my head, and murmur the words that I hope she is as happy to hear as I am to say. I will follow you anywhere Africa. I am yours.

I separate from her after a moment, and I turn my head to grab something out of my mane, woven there in a moment of extreme boredom and loneliness. It's a moon amulet that I received from the Giving Tree. The other amulets I have are hidden in the caves, away from prying eyes. I hold it between my teeth, my herbivore teeth surprisingly white for being the sorry soul that I am. Turning back to my love, I extend it to her, nodding that it is an offering for her, as I cannot speak while it is in my mouth. But then, I try anyway, stubborn like usual. A gi-t. Close enough. I hope that she will not think I am trying to bribe her. The moon amulet has a soft glow, silverish like the color of my mane and tail. Maybe she will take it and think of me.

Walk. Talk.
Tag: @[Africa], WC: 710, OOC: Sneaking in that moon amulet! ;) Better to play it out as a gift exchange?

hungry for life

100%
Africa couldn’t help but worry.

Midas had revealed to her in confidence his ruined love with Ktulu- she had abandoned him, and the one-winged mare had been witness first hand to the crippling consequence of such neglect. The master of sand and gold had been brought to his knees; his heart broken. She would never forget the pain dulling his valiant expression, nor the way his tender tone had been choked by his grief. His lover had forsaken a child of their blood, a cruel feat which Africa could not help but grimace at.

Feel the burn...

Thus far, the concepts of both love and commitment seemed dubious, and certainly from her perspective,not quite as binding as perhaps they should have been. She remembered also with some anger frothing through her veins, the way the insolent wingless fool, Windwalker had both manipulated her to declare falsely her adoration (though detrimental to the stability of their juvenile friendship it had been for both parties), and then flirted so openly and maliciously with Abishia while she had been barely metres away. Though she felt unsettled deep through her core about this emotional gamble with Silk, Africa trusted him well.

Foolishly the dreamer which had for so long been quashed by the bitterness and malice of the world, began to gnaw away the shackles binding it down. She had been troubled for such a long time, scarred by the wrath of the selfish and cruel; but there against the radiating warmth of his passion and tenderness, Africa felt new life stir within. Her eyes closed, savouring both the sincerity of the moment, and the warmth expanding through her core. As he pressed his chin to bring her nearer again, the one-winged surrendered her reservations in to the whisper of the mild summer breeze as it wrapped around them, first light peeling still closer across the far distant horizon. He spoke, a murmur of fidelity, and the rumbling words fill her with naught but invigorating faith.

Silk pulled away and the distance which grew so suddenly between seemed not even to exist. She too stepped back quietly. There was no sadness, no loss, and no stinging fear as the brackish air sliced through the space dividing. A clumsy smile spilt into her coyly downcast expression, though pale eyes sought to wander everlastingly between the blood-red of his unusual gaze. They concealed naught but the affection she felt, that which tickled her taught dappled canvas to flinch. As his neck curled back and away from her she watched, enamoured, as his lips fondled carefully between the shining moon-washed tendrils of his mane. To her surprise, he plucked free an Amulet- softly toned like his hair and glowing, a contrast to the fiercely beautiful trinket which was strung about her elegant shoulders by Midas’ fashioned gold.

‘Gi-t’... he told her pointedly, presenting it across the way. Delicately pearly teeth reached to grasp the decoratively patterned rim which protruded from his grip. "Thank you." she whispered gratefully and received the amulet when his jaw relaxed.

As she turned to place it carefully in the satchel by her elbow, Africa thought suddenly of the intricate, beautiful feather saved, stashed there also. It had been given to her by Windwalker nearly a whole year ago, as a tithe when she’d been tending the sacred fire of the Diviner. Briefly her brow furrowed, and she felt compelled to set it free into the lashing waves of the ocean nearby; but she thought presently that it might be a nicer idea to return to it to him, to bid him goodbye. She imagined such closure would be a considerate gesture, should any stress still be binding his mind about their estrangement. Certainly she held no regret; his was a split mind quite beyond the ability of her tender-hearted nurturing to repair. His tongue was mean, spiteful; angry.

The Amulet dropped from her teeth and fell upon a bed of treasures; safe and secure until she could find for it a chain of sorts.

Smiling gently, affectionately, Africa invited him to take the gold chain from her neck. "Will you find my chain Silk? It's buried beneath flame on top, but if you guide away the part fallen across my breast, it will come free." Her mane was draped thickly across her neck, bright whirling flames dancing along its crest. Readily she rolled her shoulders to help the stallion remove her amulet- the gift bestowed by the God of the Sun himself. "It's yours." She told him warmly, leaning forward with parted lips to steer the loose gold above his tattooed features.

Africa

Satanic Silk

Her soft eyes watch me, and cliché as it sounds, I find myself getting lost in them. Lost in the emotion behind those pupils, the affection that I'm desperate to receive from her is clear. I almost forget that I'm trying to give her something, that is, until she gracefully takes it from my soft lips with her own. An equine kiss of sorts, and I feel myself electrified by her touch, like a current jumping from joint to joint through my body. She places the amulet in her satchel -- shit, another thing I failed to notice? How oblivious am I?

My love lets the amulet fall, and I wonder for a moment as I think I see a flicker of concern cross her visage. Maybe it is just my imagination.. in this heartfelt moment the only concern I can imagine feeling is that of ever possibly being separated again. But I will of course protect against that at all costs.. so perhaps I am misreading her look. She turns back to me and draws my attention to the gold chain that is hidden under her flaming mane. I cut myself some slack for not noticing this - it was actually hidden from view. She directs me to her breast to remove it, and carefully, gently, I reach down below her neck, and grasp the chain with my teeth. I tug with an easy touch and bring it over her nape and crown. It comes free without much difficulty, not tangling in her mane as I expected it might. But how could I imagine that her mane would be tangled.... It's Africa. She helps to move the chain over my own head, and it slips on easily. Now I bear the mark of her patron God, the God of the Sun. I feel honored, and I wonder if she can see it in my eyes. "Thank you."

I turn my attention back to her and away from the amulet that now hangs at my own breast. I let the moment of silence linger as I take in her beauty. Dapple grey coat from head to toe, pink scarring where her left wing once was, the other beautiful feathery wing still intact. Feathers woven into her lit mane behind her ear, and two feathers in her tail. She is a sight to behold, and unique beyond a fingerprint. And who am I? A black stallion with the devil's markings upon his face. A name that no longer fits who I am - at least I don't think it does. Mane and tail like the moon. How do I fit into her world? Am I not an unsightly blemish next to her, marring the landscape? And yet... she wants me with her. She's told me this herself, implied by her direct question. It warms my heart, and I can't help but hold that thought close that she desires me beyond others. I hope that it is more than just affection. I want it to be....

"I shall leave the Falls and join you in.... the Throat?" It's a presumption. I do not know where she lives now, but I am guessing she has returned to the land of her patron. "Though I am not sure where I will fit in, in your already established life." I try desperately to keep the wistful tone out of my words, to keep them rational and logical. But there's no mistaking that I am hoping she will find me some place close to her.

Walk. Talk.

Tag: @[Africa], WC: 586, OOC: Yeah, he doesn't know that Africa is leader of the Throat.

hungry for life

100%
To her he epitomised mystery, masculinity, far aside from the mundane soldier-sort which she had come to know so well. From their first encounter far south of the oasis, drenched in moonlight, with waves crashing violently across the sandy beach behind, Africa had been enthralled and excited; drawn to his uniquely brutish confidence and smooth, intoxicating tone. He’d been like nothing she’d encountered before and his charm leaked new life and vigour through her then, wounded soul. He’d inspired emotion, lust, longing, like she’d never before known, and though desperately she’d wanted his touch, she had shied with uncertainty; fear of the unknown. Only when the Darkness had pulled them so cruelly apart had Africa realised just how dreadfully she cared for him.

Silk’s eyes roved freely across her curvy, graceful frame and she made no move to stop him. Africa revelled in the caress of his burning gaze, arching her long lithe neck a little more; flames whirling beyond as her heart beat ever faster. She too watched him, admiring the strange markings upon his face, wondering if they held some reason or meaning. Her own pale yellow eyes travelled further, pausing to examine the feathers (like her own), that were intertwined carefully behind his left ear. Without hesitation she reached with trembling lips to fondle them each individually; touch so delicate and fine. She thought to add another to their midst, a sleek grey symbol of her chastity; of their unity. There was plenty of time however- an eternity together.

Alabaster tendrils swayed lazily as the light early morning breeze tousled them; a vivid contrast to the sleek, jet-black tone of the hide beneath. He was both beautiful and fearsome; a creature who defied simplicity. He was so much more, and her skin crawled with delight as she savoured him unabashedly. Sinew rippled beneath the sleek glossy stretch of his coat; he was primed, ripe, powerful, and lips slid down the length of his neck to stroke the strength of his solid shoulder. She felt breathless, giddy and taken aback, sucking hungrily at the air around him. His wing was unlike hers. Drawing her pale face from him finally, Africa studied the strange, almost alien quality of it; clutched there snug against the curve of his rib-cage. Leather was not something she came across often, but that was certainly the texture of it, and the look. She wanted to touch it, to understand, but the sound of his voice pulled her from thought.

"I shall leave the Falls and join you in.... the Throat?" Silk asked suddenly, causing her to stiffen and step away like a guilt-riddled child. The Starry-Eyed nodded quietly as he continued, "Though I am not sure where I will fit in, in your already established life." She’d not truly considered his life prior to now; his purpose and his place. It did seem strange to her, to have known him as a part of her own home, and now abruptly as part of another- and one which she held no affinity with whatsoever. Her long ears fluttered as she considered the commitment he was making to her; the generous compromise he was giving. "Maybe..." she soothed, her tone gently melodic and without apprehension. "You don’t have to leave." Of course she knew the ridiculousness of the statement, but she didn’t want him to feel railroaded; she would not cramp him. "Dragon’s Throat will always welcome you. We are one... a package. You fit perfectly wherever I am."

She giggled lightly, kindly, and smiled at him; not overlooking the insecurity in his pitch for a second. "What is your role in the Falls herd?"

Africa

Satanic Silk

Her touch is like lightning for me, inside striking fire to my insides. The burning inside is like the flames of her mane and tail. They don't hurt, but instead warm me up inside, from my toes through my legs to my chest and my groin... all the way to the top of my head. I feel all my coherent thought draining as inside me the heat of my flanks and belly just gets hotter. Her lips down my neck, against my shoulder. Those velvets that are so soft and tender. I close my eyes and a groan passes through my own lips. I feel a little embarrassed that I'm subject to these hormonal moments, to the tenderness and gentle influences of a female form. But it isn't just any pretty female form - it's Africa. My beautiful dapple lady. My skin shudders and I feel... my arousal begin to show. I hope that it won't scare her away. Surely she knows I value her much more than that banal need? Of course.. I have been a little indiscreet with my relations... but as far as I know I have no children running around. Will Africa find out? Will Aurelia tell her? My arousal retracts slightly at the thought.

But she doesn't stop touching me and I struggle to gain my composure. My eyes open again and I look down upon her graceful figure. I see her looking at my shoulders, at my wings. I wonder if she has met any with wings like mine before. I haven't - and as a child I was cursed for it. Called a devil child with my name, my markings, my wings. I thought that was what I was, too. But now, I'm not so sure. Her response to mine is gentle, caressing, placating. She tells me that I don't have to leave the Falls. But we both know that is a lie. To be with her I must, and I will. The question that I posed was only uncertainty to where I was going, not of whether I would be willing to leave. She tells me something that my ears crave to hear. "You fit perfectly wherever I am."

"I am a spy for the Falls, but I've done little for my assignment. Africa I will follow you anywhere - I will be your black knight in shining armor." Too cliché? Not for my romantic, beating heart. Her giggle is like champagne bubbles rising to the surface in a delicate flute. My ears perk forward and my head rises slightly as I come out of the haze of arousal I had entered. I will tell Midas I am leaving, and I will join you.

Walk. Talk.
@[Africa] .. not sure what just happened? o.O posting while watching SNL = not effective

hungry for life

100%
The softness of dawn’s first glow doused them in deeper, darker shadow; the moment (as a whole) was magical, just like how Africa had always envisioned her first feeling of love to be. She felt so quaint as she revelled in his company; so feminine beside his masculinity. She knew quickly of his lust. The sweat leaking through the raven-sheen of his hide for no other reason reeked, filling quickly the still, mild morning air enveloping them. She was a pure soul though, as virgin as the day descending, and new nervousness (innocence), began to tickle her skin. Pale, dusty-red lips quivered as a smile rose upon them and her dreamy eyes turned away shyly before he spoke again; before he continued.

He explained the role he had taken back at his home... at Hidden Falls, and she thought it fitting, attractive even. Perhaps she was spellbound; enough that anything he said to her was appealing. She shrugged outwardly at the fleeting thought however, unbothered, smiling softly, stupidly. "Why don’t you continue as one in the Throat then," she suggested easily, pleased actually (though that sentiment was far overshadowed by her infatuation), because Dragon’s Throat had a significant lack of protection from stealth and the like. Not that it mattered overly at the moment, Africa added "...maybe study as an apprentice, and learn the art of the Sleuth’s magic?" Africa hadn’t told him of her new position back home, there’d been no reason to divulge- she felt only as an equal amongst her family and friends.

Then she giggled again playfully and cooed, "...every girl needs a knight in shining armour..." She felt so blessed, so overwhelmed. "I will miss you Silk." Gently panting nostrils sauntered forward to bump against him once more before they parted into the breaking light, to brush and press greedily into the warmth of his body. There was not a feeling of loss this time. Africa knew he would be home soon; knew where he would be in between, that he was safe.

Africa

Satanic Silk

As the sun rises, I feel my dark hide start to warm as it absorbs the sun's warm rays. I don't often admire the beauty of a Helovian sunrise, but I find that this morning it fits so well, and it's light reflects what I feel inside. That hasn't happened too often either. The smile on her lips is reflected on mine, and I feel that we could be lost in this moment forever. Just her and me, standing in the sun's morning light, awakened even before the birds. Just us, here at teh edge of the Heart of Helovia. I don't feel like I could ask for more.

But life doesn't work that way, and although I'd enjoy a snapshot, a Polaroid moment, I know that time does not stand still for us. She takes into consideration my position at the Hidden Falls, and assigns me to do the same in the Throat. I'll have to step up my game then - I was a poor excuse for a sleuth in the Falls. I would not want to let Africa down. She giggles and teases me with her curves, flattering me with her words. "I will miss you Silk." She says my name so softly and so sweetly that my heart seizes up for a moment... and finally starts beating again. I will miss you too, my love. I reach out to nuzzle her once more, before drawing back and looking into her eyes with my own crimson ones. I must speak to Midas, and tell him of my departure. I will meet you in the Throat. I hesitate, wondering what else I want to say. If there is anything left to say. For now, I think not. Except those three words that are hanging on the tip of my tongue. But is she ready for them? I don't want to push it, or risk ruining this moment we have together. I smile gently and lovingly at her. For now, goodbye.

I wait one more moment for her response, her goodbye, then turn north toward the falls and take off at a canter, extending my wings fully to lift off and speed my travel. I will be gone from her, but not for long. Not if I have any say in it.

Walk. Talk.

hungry for life

100%
Her intentions, the journey she had meant to embark on even before that first glimpse of dawn, seemed only like a distant memory; an ambition lost beneath tangles of thoughts, hopes and the emotion binding them. All of a sudden the weight of her responsibility had been lessened, alleviated even, and she felt as though her hooves had been freed from their cruel shackles; that the swollen brackish air was lifting her at last from the grip of the earth, from suffering. Africa closed her eyes briefly, turning her softly grey face towards the seeping sunlight and sucked a breath far into the depths of her lungs. The taste was a fond one, sour, familiar, home; and her loosened lips rattled with the slow exhale. She felt like a giddy girl again, reckless and without care for the troubles shadowing her. It had been so long since that peace had untied her mind, and a quietly stupid smile had engaged her maw to curl.

Silk leaned in close, his nose caressing her, assuring her. The Starry-Eyed both understood and respected his decision to return to the Hidden Falls though; to return to the Gallant and explain his departure. Guilt flickered through the pale glimmer in her eyes. She’d not wished to poach bodies this way, not meant to take those dear to her friend, her brother’s heart at all. But there was no denying the need she had to be with Silk, nor his determination to return to her. Africa smiled in return and nodded, keen all the more to find her way home and soon enough also, this red-marked stallion with the strange leather wings. "Bye." Her wing rustled restlessly against her heaving barrel as he turned north, back towards the world he’d been galloping from barely an hour before.

She remained patiently in place as he took off with the wind gathered beneath, around; lifting and welcoming, pondering what effect this might have on her life, if it was a phase, a crush, her wild desire unleashed and at liberty; or if, when the rawness of the emotion she felt wore off, this would remain true and strong. Regardless, happiness flooded her body, and she turned at last towards the south where the bridge would guide her away from the mainland again and deliver her into the safety of her home- to wait, and wonder.

Africa