Most of this world has fallen to their dreams and the joy they bring. Yar, most. These gentle eyes sweep Africa's frame, assuring myself that she had indeed passed to the land of peace. Only when her breath strokes lengthen, do I dare to creep from that flaming body and slip into the night like a shadow. Leaving companions and beloved partner to rest.

Of late I'd hardly had time to break away, between leading groups onward in the meadow and working at completing tasks for Earth. Hours blurred until the days seemed to fade without much room for extra activities. I passed beneath the arch of newborn cave, its belly dug out by magic, the cold floor smoothed. One wall was dimpled, holding shallow caverns for keeping trinkets and various collectables. The adjust surfaces had been carefully carved in such a way that there was ample space for three individuals to stand comfortably, I'd spent months slaving on this one room. Yet there was more to be done...

The cavern was large, well formed and held together by the strength of our mountain. It was positioned close to the entrance of our home and near my sentry post. All that remained was to fill it with things that she'd favor. Sweet smelling herbs and lavender -- painstaking hours were spent gathering and binding dry grasses together in attempt to make a crude bed.

I'd started working on this project when Africa had taken to spending her nights bedded down in the prisons. I'd not have the dappled woman sleeping in a room whose purpose was always to be ugly out of necessity. Nay. Tis long overdue that the daughter of sun had quarters of her own.

@[Africa]

There was no pleasure from the idea of this land soaked; the aged timber destroyed and mountain faces smoothed by rough waves. The impending flood schooled me to keep my efforts toward decor minimal, simplistic. Which is fortunate...I hardly knew my daffodil's from dandelions; further evidence that a males eye usually bore no talent, or creative edge for such obvious details. Aye, had there been time and hindsight, I'd have sought Kiara for advice on herbs and various flora that would please Africa.

As it were, I spent the remainder of this evening/morning searching amid shadows for exotic looking plantlife. Different flowers, berries and vines -- large leaves of various color, shape and size. I knew nothing of their name, thus my selection was wide -- arched over an impressive array of hue and texture. Reds, golds and violets formed the large majority of my labor.

Hours later, the fruit of many trips into the forest lay before me. I selected with ample care, the brightest of each flower and bound those stems together with a golden thread. A beautiful array, which I sat with delicate sand fingers upon a palm leaf I'd plucked from a banana tree deep in the forest. Upon first light, (which wasn't far off) those little blossoms would yearn wider, opening their eyes, wondering upon where they'd been moved.

Other greenery, (mostly decorative weed, granted the title of herb by an unskilled mind) was either hung upon the ceiling closest to the far wall with thin vines lashing it into cracks and crevices, or placed along yon dimpled side.

At long last a weary sigh drew itself from my chest, the beginnings of a yawn swelled almost immediately after. I stiffened, stretching my jaw and glancing out the lip to see a foggy wood becoming increasingly brighter. Lids fell over themselves, silently my mind whispered, 'just a few moments of rest.' A few hours or so later, I awoke to find yon morning sun high above the pine. A discouraged sigh drifts between pursed lips. My intent had been to simply doze for a few moments; instead, slumber has burned a large section of the morning away. Limbs shuffle, following the cliffs, marching fluidly in the direction of our prisons.

Neve came to find me sometime in the night...she flew above, circling, listening...Her sister had trailed off to hunt, and still hasn't returned.


_____

Swelling hips and sloping spine is turned to me, her firey crown bent toward the clear spring that lay her feet. My lips moisted, (though to give thirst all the credit would be false) -- throat sparking a sudden fire, a reminder... Limbs broke their rigid stance and carried me forward beyond the itchy branches and bramble, "Good morning," a warm smile teases her way, I slipped my jaw against the womanly curve of Africa's thigh, brushing with the utmost gentleness. Gilden gems linger softly on her swollen side, then rise with a boyish grin shinning in the center, "Can ye spare a moment? There is something I would show ye."

@[Africa]

Her charitable eagerness is more than enough encouragement to breath life into the embers of hope. Uncertainty born from experience dealing with strange woman -- though Africa was far removed from them. I yearned that this former Sultana, my lover, would approve the suggestion of altered bedding arrangements. Her nostrils flare against me, I smile and turn away. Africa falls complacently alongside, my direction is aimed toward the path these feet had traversed only a moment before. Purposely, (though unspoken) my limbs keep their stride shallow, accommodating my usually brisk stride to that of her swaying bulk.

Another flaming frame comes flying in through the canopy, those talons are clean, empty of prey; but the sign of success is a glint in those aqua eyes. She crossed my spine, sharply gazing at the flames that lick upon Africa's neck. The silverly spirit above, also takes this moment to descend from her heavenly spiral, "Hal," she cries and fondly takes position alongside the flaming avian. Her ivory body is growing, already starting to emerge from its childish shell into one of maturing length. When none seemed to be paying attention, Fina dipped her crown, gently soothing her sissa's ruffled feathers that are sticking out in disarray.

Tis not far or long before the shadowy entrance of yon den stands before us. It's gaping stone mouth seems to grin at us with toothless delight upon catching sight of a new mistress. Those (weeds) flowers have bloomed as expected, their goldenrod eyes are wide and beautifully straining to the sweltering sun for nourishment. I steal a sly glance her way, a sheepish smile slips across my jaw, "For ye," voice whispers softly. My unadorned crown drifts aside, along with my frame so she might closer inspect what months of laboring love had fashioned. Eyes sought her reaction, daring to hope for approval. Neve whistled, smiling as big as her jaw would allow.
@[Africa]