Any peace Kiuaji had wanted, was sorely short lived. The cool moisture had barely passed his velvet lips and down his throat before noise reached his pierced ears. Deep orbs of violet rolled to where the noise had originated from, but he made no move to remove his muzzle from the creek.

By his own admission he had made many times, in pleasurable company and when he had gritted his teeth and pledged himself to War, foals were something the crowned poisoner had little time for. Or little want. His calling in life left very little room for a very little thing to latch itself upon him, grow very big, and in the meanwhile be dependent and wanting upon the marked stallion's attention and time.

The thought of war brought vivid and bitter images to the forefront of the shadow lurkers mind, how he had stood shoulder to shoulder with the elephant general as they gazed upon all they had accomplished, they had broken and bent the government to it's knee's in the name of vengeance and justice.

It is easily pushed aside by the sight of the golden babe that pranced from the brush, only then the water ceased to pass his lips and his head lifted gracefully from it's position. This speckled foal had though him his mother, and a light smirk played upon his lips as he moved to stand tall and proud — lofty crowns casting an even longer shadow in the backdrop of the sun as he peered down at the curious thing that bounded upon him. Kiuaji examined him closely, he is small and compact, not the kind of foals you saw in Dorobo who surely would grow to stand head to head with their fathers if not a head taller. Neither did he smell of heat and savannah grass but of freshness of new fallen snow.

The reply is weighted on his tongue until another set of hooves interrupt his impromptu meeting with the foal who smelled of northern winters. Kiuaji's visage of careful concealment is shattered by the stallion who breaks into the clearing, Tembovu, as golden and proud as he remembered him the nights before he left their homeland. His elation is matched with a dry laugh from the poisoner, it came from deep in his chest and filled with all the elation and relief he could muster. "Bov." He greeted, long tail swept around his hocks with the nickname to half rest in the waters he stood in. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." He added after a moment, the sudden reunion drowned out the foal in front of him for the time being.

"The sun rises in Dorobo as it always does, but the land does not glow radiantly beneath it." It's a cryptic response, for he knew the weight his words carried between them. The many hands they had played, and the many paths they had walked together, the many consequences some may seek to enact upon them both and those that had flocked to Tembovu's banner. He is also cryptic because vaguely his mind remembered that there was a pair of young ears in their midst, ones that did not need to hear or know of war crimes and the fall of empires. They would have to catch up more openly, when little ears were absent.

"They know nothing." The Banderi do not march for this place, their gaze is elsewhere. He has known Tembovu too long not to know what may or may not be going through his friend's mind, so he speaks to hopefully wash away any dark thoughts that may have nestled within. His own neck extended in order to meet the stallion half-way, to gladly accept Tembovu's embrace, however, the stride is cut short by the sound of child's glee as is the others words and his own.

Ah, the foal, amethysts return to the unnamed one as his neck craned in unusual finesse and then back to Tembovu when he questioned if he had sired the boy. Kiuaji's brow raised in response, and threatened to raise further still when the light and warmth vanished from his old friends face. He does not respond to the foal straight away, instead he is caught trying to assume and work out what caused the others polar shift without giving his concerns a voice.

There is something about that foal, he thought and he let out a breathless snort toward the elephant. He knew already that they would have to wait for the foals mother to show up, and he settled into a comfortable stance — sculpted hips and top line cocked to his left. While he possessed a rather impassive view on unruly foals and all offspring in general, he saw it as if they had the stupidity to get lost then it was simply their job to find their mother again, Tembovu believed the opposite.

The gentle nudge to his shoulder brought him back from his maelstrom of thoughts, and he remembered the small one's question directed to him. "I am Kiuaji." The striped stallion responded, "and who are you?" A pitiful, paltry attempt to at least play nice, he found it better to extend his nose and gently press it to Tembovu's neck after he'd spoken. A silent note of affection, of concern to see if the General was alright. It was all too easy to mistake him as a mare with his air's and graces, his well placed affections and touch all to easily masked what really lay beneath the surface.

The child had all the luck by simply being too small and in the right place to see and know that the poisoner was not the delicate sex. That, and he had been forced to leave his more luxurious tools at home, his silk and gold had been left abandoned in favor of finding Helovia. All that was left was the golden disc which sat upon his ear now, he would have to make do with improvising for the mean time.

"It is good to see you too, old friend. It has been far too long." Kiuaji returned, his attention had been taken elsewhere but he kept his eyes on the babe that pranced and giggled around them. Which quickly became disrupted as they rolled with Tembovu's careful, parental notes directed toward the colt, whether he approved of the slightly larger stallion's soft spot for foals or not —what he did know was when there was something more hidden behind them.

"Do you know of his mother?" Words are hushed and airy, his lips barely moved for them while he examined the colt once more, his head stayed close to the thickened neck that his muzzle had ghosted upon moments before. Kiuaji often associated mares with foals, and stallions who knew of them to be intertwined in some way. Whether it be a fling that happened before the mare became pregnant, or the promise of something more when they no longer had them at their side. It certainly was not one of Tembovu's children, Dorobo would of made a strong mark upon that golden pelt rather than the spotted flecks which marked it instead, a mark that would burn onto their children after. Who was this mysterious mother, and what connection did she have with Tembovu?




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notes;; slipping in here to make Bov & Aji more cozy ;D

talking