It had been absolute agony. Sort of. Fine, not really. Having let the dark devil go and smash the skull witch was admittedly a loss, but certainly not a large one. He had wanted to stand by and watch. The golden desired not only to see the bitch pay, but the dark devil too. He had laughed quite enough at the golden’s expense, and he would see to it some satisfaction in being valued. Plus it helped that the gold was still leaning on a tree from exhaustion. Small matter though. Unable to stand much more social interaction the golden had journeyed back north to rest. At seeing him come to the cave little Haldir leapt up excitement. But of course he didn’t get the same welcome, for the golden crashed unceremoniously on his wolf hide, and slept.

Now standing looking over the Basin he waited for the dark lord’s return. It wasn’t completely malicious, hungry gaze. True he viciously searched the Basin for that lord’s hollowed form. Those earth eyes searching the ramparts for a bloody figure. But come on, it had to be a victorious bloody hollowed figure, otherwise the gold would have to go out and kick ass, and let’s be honest, he already did that yesterday.

Ah there. A dark figure, bowed but strong crests from the Arch. A grin grows on his lips and he slips back to throw on top his golden cloak and slide down the mountainside. Haldir of course would not be left behind again. He was trying his best lately though to calm himself on these trips. Though it was like a kid resisting candy, the gold seemed to tolerate him more if he did, and not demand he stay behind. So the pair head towards the gathering.

There are already others. Ophelia, and sweet thing he knows, the other two he barely catches the name of. Aviya, it was good to at last put a name to her. The gold wondered if she knew where her father had journeyed. Then there was an entirely new creature. Grimalkin. The golden let his eye linger on that creature as he walked up to the group. He didn’t usually care to know all those who felt a fancy to see their ranks, but he did usually at least see them. However, he lets his gold flecked sight fall onto that dark form of Deimos and the corner of his lips rose slightly. Then of course it fell to the pile of bone armor before him. A turn in his gut let the gold know his lust for it. It should have been his. He should have been the one to drag that hunk of victory here. Alas, he would have to let it go. “Nice trinket.” The gold wiles with a sly voice. He would let it go, for now. As much bitterness as it harbored in him. After all you can only wear one armor at a time.


OOC ::
Identity Index:: Destry, Cashmere
Wardrobe:: golden cloak, circlet
"Speech"