The burden that she had come to bear was not one that she took lightly; it weighed heavily upon her heart, and she found herself wondering, praying, hoping that an invasion would not come knocking upon their door during this, their weakest hour. The numbers that had once deemed the desert land the strongest - the most steadfast, nigh impregnable - had waned, leaving their borders largely undefended and their as yet unused army vastly outnumbered. She had failed, as Forger, to complete her Wall; and still they had not found another to take her place and continue the great work. The days of Tallsun ticked by, slowly and yet so quickly, and she could no longer count the days since she had emerged, blinking and born again, into the sunlight from the underground sanctuary. How long would the other herds take to recover from the blight of darkness? What if they had already mobilized, targeting the weakened desert?

And so she worried, for she was responsible for more these days than just herself. With a dedication bordering on reverence, she soared through the skies above her desert home, easily riding thermals that rose from the heated sands below. She watched, and she waiting, unwilling or unable to tear herself away from her newfound duties, terrified that somehow, she would prove incapable of the position that she had so recently and suddenly risen to. She had so much to prove, not only to herself, but to her herd mates. What did they think of her ascension into power? Did they think that she had usurped the throne? Were they happy for her, happy to have her, or did they think she was nothing but a joke, destined to have only a short time in the spotlight before inevitably falling into the nothingness of brief, forgotten fame? Was she useful, did she have some talent that would make her a good leader? Or would she be discarded at the next opportunity, as soon as someone more suited to leadership than she rose to the occasion?

She wanted to prove that she could be everything they needed.

She wanted to be great.

It was with these thoughts in mind that she took once more to the skies today, accompanied by a cheerful zephyr throwing good-natured sparks into the blue sky. The sun shone down from above, warming her and calming her, and by the time she saw the two pinpricks below, she had thrust her worries to a darkened corner of her mind, determined to seize the beauty of the day and simply ride the wind. As she circled lower, she recognized the lopsided shape of her fellow Sultana, greeting a stranger at their border. Except he wasn't a stranger. He wasn't a stranger at all. With a mixture of trepidation (for she couldn't help but feel that she had stolen his crown) and excitement (for it was, after all, wonderful to see him alive), she fell from the skies to greet Midas the Gallant after a rather extended absence.

She landed with the easy grace of practice and came to a halt before the pair, having trotted the last few steps. She was coated in a fine layer of sand, though she hardly noticed anymore. What she did notice was how very clean the former Sultan was: the ivory spots of his coat gleamed in the sunlight, and the ebony splotches held a dark shine. Gold-tipped wings were a perfect replica of the metal after which their color was named. "Midas," she offered warmly in greeting, extending her muzzle toward him. "You look wonderful." She could not help a momentary glance toward her sister, a puzzled gleam in her bi-colored eyes. What would this meeting mean for the pair of them? Had Midas come to reclaim his throne?

"talk talk talk"
@[name]

Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight