The light from his antlers caused a warm glow to dance and play in the WildFire's otherwise steely gaze, as he returned Ampere's pointed look. He could feel the sexual tension that had surrounded and enveloped them so easily and completely in the caves begin to creep back into his mind, flooding and filling whatever holes they could find, distilling his thoughts.
Enter the Transcended.
If there should have been some uncomfortable tension at having both Ampere and Sohalia close to him, he did not feel it. The entirety of his focus was now upon Cera. His flaming wings ruffled slightly as Sohalia made contact; a subconscious movement that suggested this sort of greeting occurred often between the two. Even though Gaucho's mind was distracted, his body still returned her greeting affectionately.
His dark ears flickered as Cera spoke, his face a stoic mask. That a pegasus had died ... was that an act against the Throat? His mind instantly moved to the Basin, and the Invasion from seasons past. Was this their doing? Vaguely he thought of Thranduil, the trickster, and the lies he had woven. Gaucho already owed him a visit, to repay him for his kindness when the dun's memories were gone. Perhaps now he could use that to his advantage, to gain information if he could. Although the idea that the God's were somehow involved, that it was unnatural seemed odd. Certainly that wasn't something the Basin could pull off on their own? They had their own God, Gaucho knew, though he didn't know anything about the creature.
Snorting, Gaucho's attention once again fell onto Ampere as she spoke. Although his mind was hazy with distractions, his gaze was clear and hard. He was their Gladiator and She a warrior. It seemed their paths would cross again, as they had in the caves.
"Yer ase ville hoshor rizh of Throat" Gaucho uttered, his voice soft and compassionate. Your words are wise, golden son of the Throat. His tongue easily formed the words, and they fell from his lips easily and fluently, sounding archaic and beautiful. He knew that Cera would likely not know the meaning of his words, but perhaps his meaning would be conveyed nonetheless. The natives of Helovia spoke to him, knowing that often he wouldn't understand them - why could he not do the same?
"Ampere right." He continued, his voice hardening somewhat. The tenderness reserved solely for Cera slipped away, replaced with a militant matter-of-fact tone. "Need scouting party. Only a few go - Gaucho and one or two others. Fast. Quick. Silent." His gaze lingered on Ampere, assuming that she would volunteer to go, before sliding to the other side of him, where Sohalia stood. Although he reined as their Gladiator and controlled their strategic decisions, certainly the ultimate decision was still with his khaleesi. "Emat yer dirge?" He asked her, in the language she had come to understand.
Yer ase ville hoshor rizh of Throat | Your words are wise, golden son of the Thorat.
Emat yer dirge | Do you approve of this plan?
(Sorry Brit! You can interpret my opening post as before Cera talks. After all, Gaucho wouldn't know if Cera had said anything before.)
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