She felt awkward standing there before him; a lamb in disguise, clothed like a bear. She knew too that he would quickly penetrate the shell of resilience and strength to find what cowered still beneath. Africa had born all level of emotion and inner conflict to Midas, and to him no doubt, she would always be transparent. She could feel the nerves beneath her blotchy taught canvas squirming, embarrassed perhaps that she (something so meek and laughable), now stood so solemnly explaining that his crown sat upon her inexperienced brow. His lip curled at one end, though his expression held no mirth. The one-winged’s heart lurched, expecting completely that he had come to resume his place amongst them, to take back what she would so readily give. It was not to be though... Something was amiss.

The distraction was welcome and the support even more. Fine dust swirled beneath the final pitch of Sohalia’s wings and she came with grace and femininity (both which Africa seemed so horribly to lack), to meet them both. Long listening ears fluttered between her company, and for a moment she felt like the moment could have been any part of yesteryear- long ago when the burdens of kingship and mortality were barely a consideration. As the pale dove spoke, the one-winged could feel her confidence shrinking; shrivelling like a corpse upon the sands. Both kin before her held quality she lacked and as they conversed briefly, so effortlessly (Africa hadn’t even asked how he was), she sat quite motionlessly in silence. Only by the quizzical side-glance of her sister was she pulled back from the tightening claws of insecurity. She thrust forward a smile and nodded vigorously.

The stallion then turned back his focus towards Africa, and she shifted guiltily in place, hiding determinedly her discomfort. That facade fell instantly though when his voice again fell between them, and her stomach sank with even the weight of a thousand desert boulders. She wanted to blurt “What?” to stagger backwards as dismayed confusion leaked freely and rampantly through her core; but Africa stiffened only slightly as her grin washed clean from her lips, and turned her crooked skull towards Sohalia. “A... alliance?” She part stammered, half whispering stupidly unable at least to keep the shock from her voice. The flames softened where they tangled through her thick mane, doused by concern and bewilderment.

Why are you representing someone else?

He continued as though the loud chorus of her thoughts had been read. The surreal strain behind each world unsettled her, and Silas descended quickly to roost and watching warily atop her fleshy round rump. “Go on brother...” she breathed nervously, anticipating a deal of sorts to perhaps grant open his shackles. Africa looked by Sohalia also, desperate to know her (much wiser) opinion.