As her muzzle pressed against his chest, his flame-tipped wings encircled her much smaller form. She seemed to fit easily, as if her body had been made petite, simply so that it could be fully held by his much larger form. He sighed softly into her neck, enjoying not only the feeling of having her pressed against him, but also remembering all the times this had happened before.
As she spoke, he nodded distractedly. "Oh-feel-ya take Gaucho to Sun God. Sun God make Gaucho vineserat - remember." At her question, Gaucho pondered with a surprising thoughtfulness, as he draped his large neck over hers. Exhaling, he gently nuzzle her shoulder, deeply inhaling her scent before answering. "Where Gaucho come from... Never have Sultans or Sultanas like here. Never have ... not-mates." He concluded, after awkwardly pausing to try and figure out the phrase. "We believe having a soul-mate make you strong. Fight harder to protect and keep safe. But you not worry if they die, because both know how to die honorably. Both know to do what right for herd." The idea was rather lovely, in fact. A herd of warriors, each with love for the whole herd, as well as their own mate. In battle, they would not worry about their love or brothers on the field, for to die in battle was an honor. To be wounded doing what was right, was simply an expectation. They fought harder and were noble, for the love they shared was spread equally through the herd. Coming to Helovia, the idea of leaders, indifferent to each other, was more foreign than the language.
"Leader is called khal. His queen, is called kahleesi. Kahleesi must be soul-mate of khal. Khal and kahleesi, always together." He concluded finally, leaning against her frame gently, as if his lesson had been physically taxing.
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