What satisfaction the girl may have felt at the wash of shock upon Gaucho's face... well, Tandavi is not one to find pleasure in such things. She does not fight for points, does not throw insults to see her opponent quell, fall beneath the weight of her words. She fights because she is lit, a beacon aflame, an unquenchable inferno, a phoenix destined to burn until death. She fights because she has something to say, more indeed than she initially knew. How did an argument on self sufficiency devolve to a discussion on the relationship of a leader to a herd?

For a brief and beautiful moment, the battle stills, and they see the world eye to eye, both concerned for a filly whose full story neither quite knows. "Her name is Aithniel," the girl states softly, "And we lost her when she was born." Guilt creeps into the alto voice; a broken hitch and she looks away, violent eyes focused on the backdrop of flame. She remembers it all, a constant loop of mistakes running in the background of her industrious mind. Her face contorts, softens, falls and she shuts her eyes tight. In this life and the next, the young knight knows, she shall never forgive herself this wretched sin.

She stares at the fire and fights back her shame, pushes away the agony of all of her mistakes. She would do anything to make it right- Did all we can, her brother reminds, though she knows the boy feels as remorseful as she. Up to her now. Long braids swing as she shakes her head, forelock dancing across the gold-slashed face as it returns to Gaucho, seeking but not quite catching his eyes. "She wanted to stay. And I cannot protect her there." Brittle ferocity cracks in her voice, sincerity bringing life to the alto tones. They are grown now. They know better.

They will never repeat the same mistakes.

The still passes, the eye of the storm drifting over a land, leaving more chaos as it makes its final pass. Phoenix and dragon battle on the sands, as their masters fight a less physical war. It takes all the girl has not to step back from the force of Gaucho's bellows, not to grimace in the volume which erupts from his chest. She faces back boldly, head held firm; she lets the words wash over her ears and into her brain, take form and tell stories, paint a picture of sheer frustration which strums firm strains of response within her chest. A part of her yearns to shout back, fire her own shots- We agreed to a bridge; you didn't give us a choice on the island! I take my job seriously; you're the one who does not seem to care! She wants to demand how they are expected to prove themselves, when he does not seem to see the things they do?

She supposes there is some truth to his words. Leaders are present to make decisions- but how can they make informed choices, when they are not informed? Again, she begins to silently seethe: if he had asked if she needed protection to begin with, this entire discussion could have been circumvented! The copper girl yearns to slam her head into the sand as he declares he simply does not have time- did she not just tell him to delegate? Of course, she thinks, he does not have time- he is too busy trying to run the world on his own! She hears the thud of his hoof on the ground, but does not let it draw her gaze away. Stubbornly, angrily, she will stare him down, until he realizes how stupid a creature he can be.

"Then where is Sohalia?" she demands of him fiercely. "Nobody can help you unless you let them-" the smoke which pours from her lips grows still, the fire which swirls around her form subdued. Ribs expand as she fills her lungs, breathing deeply, exhaling slowly, another cloud of embers leaving her throat. Perhaps her patience would have been greater, had she any familiarity with Gaucho to begin. Had she any real ability to read others. Had she any tact. Black eyes close as she releases the sigh.

Slowly heavy lids pull back. She wishes she could open her eyes and see past his thick skull, into his head. She wishes she could simply push herself into his mind, pick it apart at her leisure until she understood what made it tick. But there is importance behind the mystery, a reason we shield ourselves from the truth of others' thoughts. The girl knows she would never wish to have herself so painfully exposed, would fight tooth and nail before laying bare the workings of her soul.

Still, if she could just force a little sense into that Sun-damned skull...

"There's been so much change," she states at last, but this time the frustration in her voice is not for him. It is for everyone, everything, all the shifts and cycles which have robbed from her security. In the Edge, Mirage had been the only Queen, but here... Ampere. Africa. Sohalia. Gaucho. Bucephalus. More leaders than seasons, and to what end? "Nothing's stable. Nothing's constant. How are you going to educate your children, defend our home, form bonds and friendship, and get to know your herd- if you don't let us help? I want to help!" she shouts the last, both at him and at the world, both to the Sun and to herself. Don't try to protect me! Give me a way to fight!

@[Gaucho]