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Imagine his luck and finally finding on the Throat’s elusive members here in a swamp. The girl sides steps along him, and he realizes his long horns were a threat. The gold was not normally in this position, and it was unease for him as well, but he would take more care. When a bird lands in your hand, it’s best not to scare it off. He’d move slower next time. Though, the gold had to admit, he would be more comfortable if he could persuade her with those twin tips to stand aside. Peace though, he has a part to play once more, and inside it brings him back to life to hold such a feeling, such need. To weld his powers over another without even the smallest effort was always a thrill. Not that you could tell it by his features. The golden face, starred with a white leaf keeps low and droned, eyes half shut.
The girl is unconvinced. She seems to ponder over it for a moment, still and thinking. Was she thinking his name sounded pretty or the oddity of it he could not tell. The golden man does ponder as he watches her move off that perhaps, though it had been key to his story that part of it could have waited. Still, he is at last free of her shadow. She speaks first though, confirming her herd. Now was his time to make his move. “The Throat?” It comes with more energy than before. His head picks up. “Andromeda, please, do you have a healer there?” Then the gold looks away. His head tucks and eyes shut, this part of the play was no acting. Shaking from fore limbs pull at his body and a screaming, searing pain runs up his spine, punching his gut on the way. Mangled flesh on his hips, covered in a dark mud begins to run darker till it is red. He pulls at it, but his hinds will not answer. Closed eyes grip tighter and breathing, so easy when he was lying in the mud, becomes strained as he again pulls against his hinds. They come. Well, one comes and pulls the other. His right hip drags the other, which dips and holds no weight. Face releases, and crumbles. Head swooning low as body trembles from the effort, and agonizing nerves reawake.
It took all he had to pull it back together. All his skill to let the joy of before push him to picking his head up and care about the way he looked to her. Though he was faking his identity this was no fake pain. It still burned across him. Even the thought of carrying himself all the way to the Throat to reach their healer made his head spin. He would do it though. He had to. Giving this pain purpose did at least make it easier for the mud and blood covered gold to look up to the girl and ask, “Please…help me.”
OOC :: Just to let you know, he has three horizontal slashes on his left hip, and one going straight up. That hip also was hoof-punched, so basically its all mangled. As well as small cut on his forehead.
"speech"
@[Andromeda]
There are some things in the world you just can't fake,
For all his skills only real pain will it take.
For all his skills only real pain will it take.
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
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