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01-23-2015, 01:44 PM
GAUCHO
And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good
And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good
Life had a funny way of fucking with you every now and then.
None of Gaucho's kin had the same bond as the one that passed between he and Cera. He had fought for Sohalia once, before her disappearance. Had fought with Ampere. He had fought with, and for just about everyone he cared about, and yet they had all slipped out of his grasp. The right words hadn't been spoken, or perhaps if they had, they had fallen far too primitively from his lips to matter. Gaucho's heart was as simplistic as his mind - he only knew what he wanted and what he felt. There were no locked parts of himself, not really. He was not veiled, he was just ... one sided. The look in Sohalia's eyes that always asked for - demanded and needed - more from him, always went unanswered.
But not with Cera.
He had never fought for Cera. If anything, he had betrayed the Prince. Had physically lashed out at him.
And yet here he was. He didn't ask for words, and had humbly and welcomingly accepted those that Gaucho offered. Cera hadn't demanded Gaucho to solidify whatever it was that was between them. He had never asked Gaucho to qualify or clarify how they had gone from a pseudo father and son, to brothers. Perhaps it was because the Golden Prince knew that Gaucho wouldn't be capable but ... truly the dun believed it was because he didn't need it. Cera didn't need words of confirmation, because everything unspoken between them was already abundantly clear. It was certain.
Gaucho loved the Prince. It didn't matter how or why. He just did, and that was enough.
Yes. Always.
The words parted the Wildfire's dark lips, as a simple but genuine smile slowly grew. It matched the one which had blossomed on Cera's own lips, and from Mara's lowered perspective it was all that Gaucho could see and sense coming from his bonded.
"Heal ..." Gaucho mumbled after a time. It had occurred to him during one of his recent spars that the ability to heal would be exceedingly useful, especially give how injured he often found himself. But now looking down at where Cera's body brushes against the sands, he was forcefully reminded. "Gaucho like to learn to heal. Maybe Ilaria can teach Gaucho." He chuckled softly.
"Midas .. protective." Gaucho's mind fondly traced back to a time when he first met Ranjiri upon these sands. Recalled her trying to fly, and the look of horror and panic upon the painted Sultan's face then at the thought of his daughter being hurt. Gaucho slowly shook his head. Whatever strength Midas once had, he was losing. He was too protective of that which he had. He coveted it - his lands, his children - and held them close. Restricting and binding them with his mind and his love until they were distorted versions of themselves. The paint had lost his way. Or so the dun thought. "Too protective. Cera strong. Ilaria strong too. Gaucho will teach-" The words briefly caught in his throat. The line between son and brother blurred heavily in his mind, as pride bubbled up into his mouth, weighing his tongue down. His children, young as they were, fought their pretend wars with one another, but none seemingly had an interest in actually learning to fight. To protect, for that was truly the purpose of it all. Every time Gaucho trained, sparred, it was all for his family. All for the Throat. Gaucho cared little about glory and entirely about the protection of his home.
"Yes." He confirmed, finally pushing the word from his lips and letting it fall from his tongue and his stoic and stormy gaze closed. A slow breath left his darkened lips, as his brow lowered. He was not surprised Midas wanted to protect the young prince, but the beauty that Gaucho saw within him was not one which could be preserved by hiding him away.
In his eyes, Cera shone brightest in his capacity as a Prince of the sands. A champion of it.
None of Gaucho's kin had the same bond as the one that passed between he and Cera. He had fought for Sohalia once, before her disappearance. Had fought with Ampere. He had fought with, and for just about everyone he cared about, and yet they had all slipped out of his grasp. The right words hadn't been spoken, or perhaps if they had, they had fallen far too primitively from his lips to matter. Gaucho's heart was as simplistic as his mind - he only knew what he wanted and what he felt. There were no locked parts of himself, not really. He was not veiled, he was just ... one sided. The look in Sohalia's eyes that always asked for - demanded and needed - more from him, always went unanswered.
But not with Cera.
He had never fought for Cera. If anything, he had betrayed the Prince. Had physically lashed out at him.
And yet here he was. He didn't ask for words, and had humbly and welcomingly accepted those that Gaucho offered. Cera hadn't demanded Gaucho to solidify whatever it was that was between them. He had never asked Gaucho to qualify or clarify how they had gone from a pseudo father and son, to brothers. Perhaps it was because the Golden Prince knew that Gaucho wouldn't be capable but ... truly the dun believed it was because he didn't need it. Cera didn't need words of confirmation, because everything unspoken between them was already abundantly clear. It was certain.
Gaucho loved the Prince. It didn't matter how or why. He just did, and that was enough.
Yes. Always.
The words parted the Wildfire's dark lips, as a simple but genuine smile slowly grew. It matched the one which had blossomed on Cera's own lips, and from Mara's lowered perspective it was all that Gaucho could see and sense coming from his bonded.
"Heal ..." Gaucho mumbled after a time. It had occurred to him during one of his recent spars that the ability to heal would be exceedingly useful, especially give how injured he often found himself. But now looking down at where Cera's body brushes against the sands, he was forcefully reminded. "Gaucho like to learn to heal. Maybe Ilaria can teach Gaucho." He chuckled softly.
"Midas .. protective." Gaucho's mind fondly traced back to a time when he first met Ranjiri upon these sands. Recalled her trying to fly, and the look of horror and panic upon the painted Sultan's face then at the thought of his daughter being hurt. Gaucho slowly shook his head. Whatever strength Midas once had, he was losing. He was too protective of that which he had. He coveted it - his lands, his children - and held them close. Restricting and binding them with his mind and his love until they were distorted versions of themselves. The paint had lost his way. Or so the dun thought. "Too protective. Cera strong. Ilaria strong too. Gaucho will teach-" The words briefly caught in his throat. The line between son and brother blurred heavily in his mind, as pride bubbled up into his mouth, weighing his tongue down. His children, young as they were, fought their pretend wars with one another, but none seemingly had an interest in actually learning to fight. To protect, for that was truly the purpose of it all. Every time Gaucho trained, sparred, it was all for his family. All for the Throat. Gaucho cared little about glory and entirely about the protection of his home.
"Yes." He confirmed, finally pushing the word from his lips and letting it fall from his tongue and his stoic and stormy gaze closed. A slow breath left his darkened lips, as his brow lowered. He was not surprised Midas wanted to protect the young prince, but the beauty that Gaucho saw within him was not one which could be preserved by hiding him away.
In his eyes, Cera shone brightest in his capacity as a Prince of the sands. A champion of it.
Table style by Tamme! Image Credits
Please tag me in every post! Magic/Force is allowed on Gaucho at any time.
