The stallion seemed to slide through Africa’s bumbling with the smoothness of silk unbothered by her blatant ignorance, and she found a reflection of his tolerant grin curling into her own charcoal maw. The pinched muscles throughout her sinewy, stocky body loosened marginally and an ease of mind swelled to settle her fraying nerves. Still though, an element of anticipation murmured constantly as the throbbing adrenaline fuelled pulse within her ears, and Africa felt an intermittent tremble, ricocheting wildly down the length of her spine. She marvelled as the creature seemed to smoulder where it perched. Yet the stallion never flinched or suffered by touch, and he spoke like it were a burr twisted into his black then white, mane; nothing out of the ordinary at all. Africa was spellbound. Surely this was the magic which stained rumour and gossip in this bustling field.

Soon enough, his gentle voice drew Africa’s wandering attention from its lock on the creature. She blinked quietly as her eyes travelled back to meet his, restoring the ailing moisture (they had been gazing inelegantly for too long on such a warm day). It was then she noticed his eyes were... different. Midas introduced himself and Dragon’s Throat (a place that was obviously, but it meant little to the young horse at that point in time). The smile had not yet fallen from her whiskered lips, and it widened a little before she spoke- she was trying to return eye contact, but search as she might, her own pale stare found naught but a core-less golden depth. Trepidation gripped her beating heart and she spoke quickly, dabbling back into reality, maybe to find any sort of sense in this obscure land. “I am Africa.” Her voice was gentle, but the insecurity lacing it struck the wafting silence harshly, not at all how Africa hoped to be perceived. Even she knew that the time would come and she would better understand this world; this was not that time, nor was Midas the teacher.

The creature stirred, and this time Africa offered it only a fleeting glance. “Midas?” She continued, in a manner that was indeed too trusting; and most certainly overly forward. Africa was untouched by the pain of cruelty. She was unspoilt; unquestioning. “I know nothing of Helovia.” Africa fidgeted awkwardly; her mouth seemed to have lost all grace and dexterity. There was a strange prickling in her skin across the elbow of her wing, and the grey mare was powerless as she turned in an instant, to pluck a faultless grey feather. The feather was released and twirled downward, wedging itself in a thick grass tussock. She returned to Midas and continued thoughtfully, “I mean to say, I am sure you have much more important business to attend...” (in fact, she imagined him to be of the most significant there was- he was splendid) “...I am hoping to study, something...” She divulged, the sentence trailing off mind you, because Africa could not place what it was she sought to learn. Everything she supposed, but should have liked not to sound too foolish before her company.

[No hassle :) I am always wondering when mine is going to evaporate. Sorry I keep changing pictures and tables :P I think Im settled now...]