A more articulate creature might have been able to voice the concerns that had plagued Gaucho for the past few weeks. When asked, "How you Gaucho?" he might have replied, "I feel weakened. Thinned. There is a blackness that surrounds everything, and a weight that I can seem to shake." Instead when asked, Gaucho merely responded that he was tired, or didn't respond at all. It was his job to protect his herd - his family - and to fulfill the quest given to him by the God of the Sun. Whatever extreme exhaustion that had settled fixedly upon his back was one that needed to be ignored. It was merely his body arguing against his mind, demanding sleep when there was still too much to be done. And so it had been ignored.

It had been ignored, and the murders had continued.

Whatever had allowed the shadowy tendrils of the Moon Goddess to take root in his mind, Gaucho didn't know and likely never would. He had been in the presence of his beloved deity multiple times during this apparent possession, and neither had been the wiser as to Gaucho's condition.

It wasn't his fault that this had happened. It couldn't have been.

Yet while one weight was lifted from his body as the ensnarement of the Moon Goddess was cast away by the God of the Earth, another descended rapidly and just as maliciously upon his mind.

He had been the tool used to murder nine.

His mind recoiled as his body fought to rise off of the ground where he had been placed by the Earth God. Elsa had told him their names ... and as they flooded back, Gaucho's legs gave out from beneath him.

Vesta. Phaedra. Skysong. All names that had special meaning to him. Was it coincidence that they had been chosen? One of his greatest warriors, the beloved friend of his (once) mate as well as her child? Had the Moon Goddess invaded his thoughts to select them? The others though ... so many he didn't even know. Esther, Ailith, Circe, Pysche, Myrddin. They were nothing to him, and yet they were dead because of him.

Flaming wings flatly hugged the earth, as Gaucho's crowned skull rose once again, seeking out the light of his guiding God.

He still could not see, but through Mara - and now Vorsa's mind - he gazed up at the Sun God.

No words fell from his lips, for how could he even begin? What would he say? Would he defend himself? That he didn't know how this had happened, that the Sun God had appeared before him and never noticed? That he couldn't be culpable of the horrors his body had committed? Would he apologize? Would good would that do? The lives had been lost - forced into the never ending blue skies by his own hooves - apparently arbitrarily.

Horror descended as his gaze rotated slowly. The Earth's own son was dead, and he had been the vessel responsible for the deed. The group who had found him - a tree-like creature and another - were there as well as the three Gods.

Staggering to his knees and then his hooves, Gaucho's large skull dipped low, submissively before the three Godly brethren. "My life for theirs." He murmured, finding his voice to be husky and raspy with emotion. He couldn't begin to understand the emotions that sloshed through him - regret, confusion and unease - but it didn't matter.

He had murdered unjustly, even if it was unknowingly. His life was not worth much, but it was all that he had.

Sorrow and grief seemed to darken his already stormy gaze, as his eyes shut. Gaucho was not one to cry, and yet he felt the painful sting as tears forced themselves into being, squeezing outwards through clenched eyes. His nose fell to the earth, as his flaming wings once again spread themselves against the grass. Gaucho's barred knees touched the soil, as he knelt before the Gods, accepting of whatever fate they would deal him.