Ampere.
How long had she lingered in the back of his mind, demanding his attention but never finding it? How many times had the two missed each other by minutes - never knowing how close they had come to a reunion? And yet, it was odd, wasn't it? There initial meeting had been simply by chance, and not very long at that. He had been dirty, she, preening. They had shared a handful of words that carried far less weight and intention than the looks that were passed between the two, and a splash. That was all. And yet there was something, wasn't there? Some primal connection between the two birds, clearly from a different flock than the rest of Helovia?
Perhaps -
Ah. But she was yelling again. At least not at him.
Whatever might have transpired between the two was abruptly cut off, as the blue stormed towards Oxy. Gaucho remembered now - the large stallion had mentioned that he had won the right to the creature - clearly now hatched, and clearly not a snake.
His attention was drawn away from his unfolding drama, by the appearance of the white dun, Nyx. Gaucho's stormy gaze flitted to her; welcomingly, approvingly. She was strong, both mentally and physically, and the dun was glad that she had followed his call. This feeling was increased at her brazen claim, bringing a smile to the warrior's dark lips. He nodded, grinning broadly now in her direction.
Then it all changed. The mood, the tone, even the floor of the cave.
Archibald. Gaucho remembered well his meeting with the larger beast; his nose twitched unconsciously at the thought. You will not forget this day - the Dauntless had told him. I am Archibald the Dauntless, master of war. Unsure of his intentions as he first entered into their secluded spot, Gaucho's flame-tipped wings immediately shot from his sides, rising high from his shoulders. He was not so tall as the Dauntless, but that did not stop his instincts from trying to make himself appear larger. As Archibald's words rocked the floor of the cave, Gaucho's large hooves rose and fell to remain balanced, causing small flames to linger where his hooves had touched. These bursts of flame seemed to accompany the ring of the former-General's word, as well as his magical reinforcement.
As Archibald's focused moved from Ampere back to Gaucho, the dun raised his antlered brow, turning his broad chest to square-off against the movements of the draft. Although the words he said rang true - and Gaucho knew that an alliance between the two (were that even necessary) would be wise, part of him wanted to feel himself collide against the only opponent who had truly bested him in any meaningful sense, since coming to Helovia. He did not want revenge - far from it. Archibald physically bested him in a number of ways, and his magic was frighteningly potent. Yet Gaucho had grown since that first meeting - he had trained, acquired magic, his antlers, and Mara. He did not want revenge - he wanted to use the only litmus test that he had, to see how much he had improved.
But the time was not now. Not when there were dark forces on their doorstep. If the god's allowed, he would dance again with the Dauntless. Until then, they would fight together.
"Sun God tell our oracle that this darkness could not be fought." He began. Gaucho's voice was not so deafening as Archi's was only moments ago, but nonetheless it commanded attention. He addressed the Dauntless without hostility, nor fear. He spoke with the respect of one general to another; from one War Lord to another. "Wraiths. Zom-bee's. Call them any name - they still the same. They are ones we know - not invasions from somewhere else. They get infected; makes them dark, shades their minds. They bite, sneeze, cough. Infection gets passed on. Sometimes change happens slow - sometimes fast. But always happens. Some not get infected - our Oracle, attacked twice, still okay. Maybe immune, maybe lucky."
Pausing, Gaucho's dark ears twitched for a moment as he mentally conversed with Mara, to ensure that nothing important had been left out.
"Caves safe. We know that. But we no come down here to hide. We come to plan." The flames lining Gaucho's body flared for only a moment, as his voice lowered passionately. They were not going to stay, as rats trapped. But without the power of physical force on their side to fight this (as suggested by the Sun God), strategy would be key. One crucial aspect, would be a unified force. Individual sects trying to achieve the same goal, would result in far too many inefficiencies. They needed one unit, heralded by those with the experience to command. The spar between the Dauntless and the warrior so long ago, perhaps was a fated event - that these two might come to learn things about the other, that could not be gleaned from conversation. They were warriors, the both of them. But would they stand together?
"What say you Daunt-less ? You join Gaucho in this?"
[Insert Archi's response...]
Gaucho's gaze moved from the darkened-sunlight gaze of the Dauntless, to Meg. He was glad to see that she had come, though he hoped she would. His stormy gaze revealed a small portion of the relief that his emotionless expression did not. As she spoke of Alina, his lips tightened momentarily. The white mare - in need of another rescuer. When he had first met Alina, Mara had almost died in an attempt to save her, and here again she seemed to have found herself in need of a life raft. Meg had been careless to go out on her own perhaps - but it had all ended well.
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