It had been long ago that she had first taken on the role of the fallen angel, had plummeted toward the dunes of the Dragon's Throat, wondered if she would be missed if she simply didn't stop. These days, she could not help but be ashamed of her actions, or inactions, or whatever they were - for life was glorious, beautiful, full. She had blossomed upon taking her role as Sultana, bloomed into a strong, capable mare with no intentions of allowing her herd to fall to ruin. She had been broken, back then - but now she was healed and whole, prepared for the future that she had been longing for, waiting for, wishing for.

She soared through the skies toward Caela Insula, her ivory feathers ruffling gently in the breeze created by her flight. The sun glinted off her pelt, which had long since lost the dusting of sand that she had worn in her days as Forger. She took a great deal more pride in her appearance now, particularly since her lover's return; the thought of him sent a delightful shiver down her spine, sent a wide grin to her face. For the first time, she felt sure of her place in his eyes, confident in the nature of their relationship. A metaphorical weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she was ready to bask in her overdue bliss.

The Transcended landed with a graceful flare of her wings. Every breath she took brought her the scent of cherry trees and blooming flowers, despite the fact that Orangemoon had begun to destroy the summer greenery below. The island held the air of a perpetual spring, neverending perfection, the epitome of Heaven. Laughter rang in her auds, distant and fleeting, but there nonetheless. She wondered if this kind of peace would be ever-lasting, or if there would come a day when the herds would turn on each other once more.

A day that she would be prepared for, whatever it took.

She noticed, suddenly, that she had landed near a stallion that she had never seen before. He was tall and dark, with scarred shoulders, and she wondered if he had escaped the crowds for a moment alone, if she was intruding, if she should just leave him be... but in the end, she decided to approach, curious and amiable. "Why not join the celebration?" she asked, halting a fair distance from him lest he refuse her company. Her voice was soft and kind, her demeanor well-meaning, for she truly could not understand why anyone would seek solitude on such a gloriously tranquil day, in such a wondrously beautiful place.

"Talk talk talk."

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com

They were such stark opposites that it was unfathomable that they would find one another's company, and yet somehow this drew her to him. He was not of her herd, and yet his sadness left a mark on her psyche; there was no threat about him, merely the unyielding misery of defeat, a feeling with which she had been all too familiar not so very long ago. Upon meeting his gaze, so filled with unhappiness, her heart went out to him, for it was her opinion that none deserved so unpleasant a fate.

He was dark where she was light; he was heartbroken where she was joyful; he was shattered where he was whole. But she remembered how that felt, a painful squeezing of her heartstrings with each breath she had taken, each rejection she faced a sharp kick in the gut. She knew his pain, as purely as though it had been her own. She had lost everything once - parents, siblings, mates, children - and yet, here she was, her past a misery but her present a gift and her future glorious. It was not so hard to imagine that his life, too, could be turned around.

But he would not want to hear that. "No, no," she responded hurriedly, an apologetic smile on her features. "It is I who have interrupted you." And yet, she made no move to leave. A gentle breeze fluttered across their little clearing, carrying with it the sound of rustling leaves and the scent of cherry blossoms. It was peaceful here, in a quieter way - with none of the overstated pomp and circumstance of politics, none of the careful dancing around one another that accompanied a common area. "There is always something to celebrate," she advised suddenly, bi-colored gaze leveling at him once again.

"Talk talk talk."

[OOC | You're fine! She just wants everyone to be as happy as she is! ;D]

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com

If he thought her determined, then he was correct, for it was her view that no one deserved the kind of unhappiness with which she assumed this stallion to be faced. If she was correct, then she knew his despair to be all-encompassing, knew the weight of the world, of his past, of his sins to be on his broad, scarred shoulders - but she knew, too, that it was not his fault, and if it was, he should forgive himself. She knew that they could not go back in time, only forward, into the future that they built for themselves. She knew that misery was a choice, just as happiness was.

But she knew that he would not see that now.

Maybe he would one day, but not this day.

Astraeus soared overhead, watchful golden eyes on the stallion. He did not like the situation, and he let her know through the bond that he did not trust the steed. A creature without purpose was without reason. Someone with nothing to lose had no reason for restraint. All this and more he conveyed to her, though he could not yet do so with words; but she ignored him, for he did not understand, not as she did.

He asked her for a reason, a challenge disguised by a question mark, and she paused. The implication was troubling, and she briefly debated following her zephyr's advice; but in the end, she decided against it, mulling over the question in momentary silence. Finally, she admitted, "I can't. Happiness must come from within." She paused, uncomfortable with her answer. "Let me tell you a story.

"My family was murdered when I was very young. When I came to Helovia, I found my first and greatest friend. I found a mate. I found a home. I thought I was as happy as I could be - but then I gave birth to a stillborn daughter, my mate left me, and my best friend was murdered. It seemed that I was surrounded by death and desertion, and I could not see past my pain, could not breath without the understanding that I was still here, that I had lived while they had died or disappeared. I felt guilt. I felt anger. I felt misery. I was sure that I was destined for nothing, that I would grow old and die while only managing to cause pain and destruction everywhere I went.

"But I have realized that it's not true. It took me a long time, but one day... one day, I found hope again." She paused, taking an earnest step forward, reaching her nose out in a show of support. "If such a day should come for you, you may find me in the Dragon's Throat." With that, she withdrew once more into herself, and turned to walk away.

"Talk talk talk."

[OOC | Up to you if he lets her leave - if he tries to keep talking, we can keep going!! :D]

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com

It is important to note that she did not give up on him, did not leave him for a lost cause. She had every confidence that one day, he, too, would rise above the ashes to find his place in this world. It would not be easy - she knew that all too well - but it was the only choice. We all must go forward or die in this life, and she, for one, had chosen wholeheartedly to live. But for now, he would enjoy his solitude, would revel in it and tell himself it was for the best - and then, one day, he would meet someone who would take him in, show him love and friendship and family, and he would find his happiness as surely as she had found hers.

"Then you must know Africa," he said, and she paused, craning her neck to peer curiously at him. Had he already taken that first step toward the light? His tone filled with a desperation, a need that went further than just simple curiosity about a stranger once met in passing, and the dove found herself wondering just what connection there was between her Starry-Eyed friend and this downhearted stallion.

"I do," she said carefully, turning slowly to face him again. "She is well. I stand beside her as Sultana." She paused, auds flickering back and forth with uncertainty. Perhaps that was all he needed, an assurance that a friend was healthy and happy... but she needed to know, needed to understand his prior desperation. "How do you know her?"

"Talk talk talk."

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com

And so the truth comes out.

The dove listens in polite silence, compassion clear on her features as she comprehends the stallion's story, so similar to her own. She, too, had been a lost soul before a kind stranger from the Dragon's Throat had taken her in - and suddenly, she finds herself thinking of Rowan, missing her dearly and knowing that she, of all creatures, would have been able to talk to this steed with a great deal more kindness and understanding than the now-Sultana. How often had Rowan felt alone, even after claiming the heart of the angel? And had she not been alone when that killing blow was struck? Yes, the Transcended had been able to say goodbye to her dearest friend, had been able to visit with her briefly in the spirit world after the Darkness set it, but it would never be enough. It could never be enough.

The Sultana smiled, weariness in her eyes for those she had loved and lost. "Africa is, I think, the kindest of us all," she admitted then, thinking of her own interactions with the Starry-Eyed, remembering her partner's excitement when they began planning their new era for the Dragon's Throat. It all centered on her desire to better the herd, to provide better for others, to create a land of peace - attributes that the two mares shared.

She did not remember having met the stallion before, but if he had lived among them in the time before the plague, it did not surprise her that she did not remember him. That had been a time of difficulty for her, of avoiding the consequences of her actions, of trying to be something that she wasn't. It was only after her emergence from the Underground that she had felt truly at peace, truly one with herself. It was then that she had began to branch out, to meet members of the herd, to build greatness for them rather than for her own distraction.

She did not remember him, but she would gladly welcome him. "Our home is always welcome to you, should you wish it. Any friend of Africa's is a friend of mine."

"Talk talk talk."

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com