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03-02-2015, 10:22 PM
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Gaucho watched Archibald impassively, ignorant of the torment that seemingly stirred within the mammoth creature at having to contain his rage. Yet the beasts actions, or lack there of, merely confirmed what Gaucho had thought of him. He was a fool. Archibald had ignored the wisdom of the Gods and decided to continue carrying a personal vendetta against Gaucho as if the draft held some superior knowledge. Watching him now, Gaucho was convinced he did not. He was wounded, however justifiably, but real warriors knew where to direct that anger. They did not lash out at those who acted without the ability to do otherwise. It was just as silly as hating an avalanche for the death it caused. One was an act of nature, the other an act of the Gods, but neither the avalanche nor Gaucho should be held responsible.
Still, Archibald could have absolved himself of his eruption of passion on the Island by apologizing, or, if his knobby knees could not allow him to sink so low, he could have instead said that desiring Gaucho's death was no longer the case. That he had skirted the issue only provided further evidence of his foolishness. Then there was the matter of his children ... all three who were currently under the protection of the Throat. And still, Archibald could not extend a word of appreciation. This King was not merely foolish, he was weak. Gaucho's flaming wings moved only centimeters from his sides as his cold gaze bore into the newly crowned King of the Edge. Ohh how he would love nothing more than to challenge him on this very ground, to force him to confront whatever feelings he harbored against the dun and either prove himself or drop the matter all together. Gaucho's gaze, unfettered by the need to deprave his eyes of the emotions he felt, searched the larger stallion for a sign of willingness. Would he continue to stand before, boasting of his claim to lead and yet taking not responsibility for his past actions? Indeed the idea stirred a passion without Gaucho. The draft had been one of Gaucho's only few opponents who had possessed any amount of skill. Indeed, he almost died that day - the bone through his nose had almost -been torn one and his bones turned to rock. Gaucho ignored Kahlua's words. His gaze and intent were still locked upon the Dauntless. "Either Archibald still want Gaucho's head or not. Edge make Archibald king, even though he want to kill leader of Throat. A friend to Edge. Gaucho think that impact needs of herd." He began, as if offering Archibald both a scapegoat as well as fuel to the fire. "Which is it?" The dun didn't require an apology, merely a crying off of this absurd quest. The Gods, as well as nearly all of Helovia had confirmed that he was not to blame; one did not blame a knife for the murder that it committed, and so nor should the warrior receive the burdens of their hurt. It was regrettable yes, and perhaps Archibald's outburst was even justified. Yet the Wildfire would hear him give a verdict one way or another. Either he still believed Gaucho owed him a debt, or he did not. He was intrigued to find out which it was. Gaucho the Wildfire
If this is to end in fire then we should all burn together. |
Please tag me in every post! Magic/Force is allowed on Gaucho at any time.
