Africa admired the lovely white mare’s eloquence. It was a quality she had never quite mastered; not truly had to begin with. Despite the uncertainty lacing the situation unfolding, there seemed to be a warm delicateness to her tone, and the artless one-winged found herself wondering. Sohalia had always been an intelligently-minded character she’d admired from a nervously inferior sort of perspective. She was quietly glamorous, not bleakly-hued at all or drab; and rumour of her relationship with no other than the mighty Gaucho had been swapped through the ranks of the herd many times (be they true or false). Africa had never been in love, and often found herself fancying those well beyond her miniscule grasp. Nevertheless, her life had reached a turning point, far more significantly than she could ever have expected. She was overwhelmed, frightened, dancing in a world of brilliance that she could never belong in.

...There she was, standing amid real royalty- in every respect, discussing international relations like she had a clue.

She smiled decorously and nodded as Sohalia’s request passed her ears.

For a second Africa relaxed, rocking left her weight to ease off her right-rear hoof; quickly though and silently scolding herself, she stiffened back to an appropriately upright posture. The manner of Midas’ tone and the formality of his tongue unsettled her. She fought anxiously to quell the memory of that night in the caverns when all manner of emotional pain and suffering had been exposed; by both of them. She saw deeper than the rippling sheen of his black and white hide, knew the bitter hurt which had eroded his mind, and she wondered unassumingly, caringly as he smiled so sombrely, whether he’d lost his mind- like dare she say it... Windwalker. That underhanded animal had indeed turned crazy against her innocent, uneasy denial. She worried for this stallion, a friend, her brother; and was unable to disguise such powerful sentiment from her pale, transparent expression.

The picture was becoming clearer though...

Uncomfortable with the turn of events explained by their former leader, Africa shifted. She could only accept his reasoning though, knowing well that she also would never deny the call of her own generous, insightful God. The Asylum had previously been on good terms with Dragon’s Throat, and it eased her concern for his wellbeing a little. Though she had not before encountered any who were Midas’ ‘new family’ (she swallowed what felt like a boulder snagged in her throat), they had done no disservice that she could think of, before the Darkness.

Very slowly she nodded, processing all which had been clarified, quite overwhelmed- especially that surrounding the Basin. Africa didn’t doubt for one second that he’d turned those monsters from his gate- conviction replaced his humility, similar (she thought), to the same burning hatred she had seen when she revealed the taker of her wing. Behind, long black and red tresses snapped across her charcoal hocks and the flames adorning whirled to life. She thought not unkindly of him, could not, and smiled a little; warmth eroding the sorrow which had begun to spoil the mildness of her features.

For some time she did not speak; eyes gazed vacantly ahead as she considered.