The angel wondered if their former Sultan ever missed their desert home with its open skies and golden sands. Did he miss the way the dunes flowed, piling against each other, lined with waves? Did he long to fly overhead, held aloft by the rising, heated air, watching the vibrant emerald of the oasis down below? Did he wish for the distant crash of the ocean waves, the briny smell of the sea when the winds blew just so? Did he yearn for the unique, intricate floral arrangements that hid within the foliage of their watering hole?

Could anyone love the Dragon's Throat as much as she? She was certain that it could be so - that Africa, at least, shared her adoration of their home and its hidden beauty. Outsiders called it hot, and barren, and dry - but her petite features and ivory plumage was built for it, and she could hardly imagine life in a different land. How could they stand it, all pent up among the trees? She supposed the Hidden Falls had their own secrets, their own loveliness that made them worthwhile, but how had Midas given up this for that?

But she knew the answer already, and she knew that she would have done the same in his place.

So of course he missed their home. Perhaps that knowledge made it easier for her to allow him access to their oasis unaccompanied, for had it been anyone else, she would not have dared allow it. She was not particularly militaristic, but even she knew better than to allow an outsider to roam as they will. She knew of the dangers of spies, even if she could never be one herself. But Midas - Midas would not betray them, would not use them - for the Gods' sakes, he was one of them, despite his new title and his new home. He would always be one of them, would always be allowed into their hearts, would always have their trust. She prayed it would be so.

He accepted their news, when they gave it, with pleasure and kindness, as she knew he would, and she left it to Africa to explain their position to the Czar. There was nothing to add, really; and she found it so pleasant to simply bask in the company of those she had once held dear. She could not claim to have been particularly close to Midas - but she had known him and respected him, and she had never imagined life without him. Quite honestly, she was glad that she no longer had to.

"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