Seems the Wildfire wasn't in a jesting mood; that or Buce's joke hadn't registered as funny to the dun, or just wasn't funny overall. Azeeza blinked when Vorsa controlled her fire, and trilled sadly when she didn't stop flaming, a question prodding at Buce's thoughts. He paused, glancing up at the pair, a sad look in his eyes. 'No love, you cannot touch her now, she will hurt you and not mean it.' Another sad cry, before the falconet shook the sorrow of being unable to physically play with her friend as she had before. Golden eyes gleamed, and when Vorsa finished her display Azeeza did one of her own. She had no fancy magic, but what she did have was something Vorsa didn't.

Those sharp wings, fully fledged and kept well-maintained, had the little falcon hurtling through the sky, merely a dark blur as she, quite literally, flew circles around Vorsa, twisting and diving with the ease and agility all falcons possessed, showing off to her friend just as she had shown off.

Bucephalus looked back to Gaucho, glad that Azeeza chose not to linger on her sorrow; she didn't seem to be the type to focus upon that particular emotion for long. Ears pricked when Gaucho mentioned the new crafters, and the black couldn't help the faintly bitter look across his face. Where were these two new crafters when the madness of plenty was taking it's toll upon he and Cera? At Gaucho's suggestion he continued his crafting Buce merely shrugged. If he was needed as a crafter, a crafter he would be. He enjoyed it thoroughly enough.

But then Gaucho continued, and instantly every fiber of the Morningstar's attention focused upon the Wildfire. Something up his alley? Ohoho? What did that particularly cryptic(By the Sun, Gaucho was cryptic!) sentence mean? "Oh, now I'm doubly-interested. What is it, Gaucho?" Up his alley? That had the black thinking, and he mentally paled a bit. Surely the Wildfire didn't intend to offer him a position as a soldier(He liked to fight, but that didn't mean he was good at it) or, Wind and Sun forbid, a rank as a storyteller(He liked to tell tales as well, but again, didn't mean it was up his alley). As for spying...

"Spy, Gaucho?" He guessed, head tilting slightly, his voice lacking the usual merriment; this was a bit too serious for such things. He had told Gaucho once before and would again; He loved the Throat, that was unshakeable and no matter the doubts against him, he would serve until they chased him away with tooth and hoof and sword. He may be, dare he say it, not entirely well in the head(unless everyone else had a crazy psycho killer in their head who liked to destroy their lives too... Wait, did they? That would explain quite a bit), but that didn't matter worth a damn against his loyalty. If only they could see that, so he no longer had to fear them seeing the fouler creature that shared his mind and body even in it's hibernation.

"I doubt I'm needed as a warrior, or a story-teller." A flicker of a grin, but his humor was gone, replaced with a somber quiet of one who had just got done with an inner talk/turmoil. Which... he kind of had. "I do not think I would be well suited for either." Quiet were those words, spoken solemnly.

@[Gaucho]

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