The commotion rouses the boy from his swim among the Oasis. He's too late to see the fights, which were over quickly, both unfinished, but he's fine with that. Fighting is something he'd rather not witness if he doesn't have to. Though he appreciates it's worth in the world, he can't really bring himself to just
accept that delivering pain unto others is allowed, not when there's enough other shit in the world hurting everyone.
He trots along the sands instead to the meeting, his hair still drying in the Frostfall sun, but the desert warmed enough that he doesn't chill. Sparks of electric and fiery origin drift and roll off his wings as he moves, falling to the sides like chaotic rain, but winking out of existence before settling upon the sand.
He's surprised to see a new figure heading the herd. The politics of the place still escaped him in many ways, but he knew enough to recognize she was purposefully positioning herself as their lead, the way the prior one had a season ago, the one mom yelled at. Tyrath, whom he remembered from the latest Kisamoa meeting, and Matheo were both congratulating her,
their mom, the leader. Iskra tilted his head, wondering what that made them now. Were they ranked higher among the foals? Did bloodlines even count in a world where crowns were knocked off and placed down as quickly as the seasons turned? All Iskra knew was that Matty was still his friend, and so with a smile he sidled up to the sun kissed boy as he receded back into the crowd.
"Hey," Iskra greeted softly, his head inclined towards the other colt, not wanting to distract from the purpose of this group (which was certainly not his and Theo's conversation).
"That's your mom? Awesome!" Admittedly, Iskra thought being in charge wasn't so great, if his knowledge of their prior Sultana and everyone's feelings towards her was anything to go off of, so he was actually rather worried for his friend's mom.
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