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He had intended on returning north, slipping into the Basin with a quiet step, and up into his cave for a little rest after such a turbulent swing through the south. A quick rest, and he’d head out again. Haldir was up in the north awaiting him, he could feel even through the distance the deer’s pining whines of loneliness. He was nervous though after returning as Rohan to the Throat, so he had flown into a massive tree, but no one would ever know if he flew out, or lay in it resting, for his magic of invisibility had cloaked him mid-way through. Out he had sailed, before landing in a thick grove of trees at the edge of the land bridge. Here at last he let the pain of transformation take hold, and now steps out invisibly as himself. So up the mountains he walked, keeping invisible to avoid the eyes of any wander Falls. In such a state of alert, for though he made no sound, rocks still roll and tracks in snow are still made, that he saw Ophelia. The normalcy of this sight though did not spurn his steps. She was the lady and so surely had business in other places. Most likely she had come back from the far south to visit the Throat. So he made no rush to catch up to her, and was content to follow the red dipped lady to the Arch and through. When at last he stepped through the Arch to see her figure again, he moved to go around her, smiling to himself at thought of her seeing hoof prints walk beside her. He had made it only a few steps when she called out, near jumping in place. Her tone though is really what spun him on his heels. Earth eyes narrow and the crowned head swings around with a more serious look. There were no poetic lacings of diplomacy or pleasing, nor was this the steely voices of war. This was empty and pitiless, a tone of carelessness, and if anything were without any emotion or tone at all. It was most unlike the Ophelia the golden knew. As the dark reaper steps forward, the golden also returns, and listens. She was leaving, a brow raised. Her ‘personal’ reasons were most unknown to him, but suddenly became the fix of his thoughts. The gold did not yet know of the new leads in the Edge, otherwise it might have been easier to guess, though he had little idea their little romance had progressed so far. He was left stumped, but whether she was nervous, had little care, or was just ready to get it out, she kept talking. The next lines were the most striking of all. Him lead? What the fucking hell. The gold was glad he was still wrapped in the soft comforts of invisibility for that face he did not want to share with others. Anger bubbled under his skin, but so did the sooth fires of pride and vanity. Still she kept talking, and in the flurry of news he couldn’t be given a second of progressing thoughts. In a sense though, the mare was just burying her hole deeper and deeper. Her ‘reservations’. How in the hell did that woman know about that?! The golden had no knowledge of her ability to mind read, nor that she had done so not many days ago on Gaucho’s visit. Overall pride now took the bruise to bristle with anger at the slap to his trade. Who gave a shit what she thought about who he offended and didn’t? Not knowing the truth he jumped to conclusions. It might be for Gaucho’s family talk the mare was leaving anyway? There little tea breaks have a bit more serious tone? In these thoughts he completely lost track that she had nominated him as lead, for his anger was being so pricked and fired by her insult (what he considered an insult). Even invisible the gold could not outwardly hide his anger, his ears pinned back and teeth bared. He would have no one insulting and judging him over such a little slight. But of course she kept talking, and talking. It might have been a lucky hand that she did. Each second of changing thoughts left the golden in his silent stance time to cool, and remember what else she said. Of course it did the theory of her getting too close with Gaucho much credit in is mind. Why should they run to the Throat and throw themselves at Gaucho’s feet? The stallion was proud, and strong, but that was just it, he was one stallion. And if the golden had proven anything in years here so far, it was that no one, could speak with a more gilded tongue than he. Except for perhaps Hotaru. That’s right, her name had been mentioned as well. More bickering broke out in the golden’s brain as he remembered, she had been named alongside him. A silent cloven hoof rose and stomped silently on the rocks. The pink spy was alongside the golden theif eh? Well isn’t this just turned into a damn peachy conversation. Still, in the torrent of anger and jealousy the gold did grab hold of one small fact. Hotaru had changed Gaucho’s mind. If Ophelia had given in to Gaucho’s righteous talk, Hotaru had at least stayed true. (Because while he would never admit it even to himself, he might had made a mistake in all those years ago with Gaucho at the Rotunda) Besides, she was one of the few around here with any damn sense, so of course it got noticed. Though his anger is still fueled by the fact that Hotaru was not chastised for her errors (did she have any? The golden just assumed she did.) In all, the golden was left in a bitter mood. Where a normal creature would celebrate at being so honored, he stood looking damn near pissed, with a bitter gleam in his eyes. For once, the golden was glad Deimos was there to speak his few words as possible speeches. He could not have handled long drawn out goodbyes now, it might have turned into more violent event. As the dark reaper paused between phrases the gold continued to breath and ease. His mind reaching out to jump to conclusions on Ophelia’s words. She had reservations. She didn’t think he would fit huh? He was not skilled enough to play a two masked ally. She doubted his tact and skill (which in reality she had right to do). Well more the pity for her. She would one day regret those words. She would regret she ever doubted his skills or abilities. She would feel the same bitter sting doubled against her. The golden would see to that. But today was not that day, though she tempted him with her goodbye. At this little spat the gold could only sigh and roll those hidden earth eyes. What had the damn mare expected? The fact she got an admittance of a change mind from Deimos was praise enough. Did she expect a gift giving? A fancy retirement ball? Did she really expect their opinion to be high of her when she spoke of leaving with a heartless voice? Or to be let in on the new order when it was apparent by her known information she was in close contact with those who should not know such? When she left their walls without an admitted cause? Now the golden was no herd cheerleader, let alone player, but damn, she had to recognize this was actually a rather nice send off for the Basin. Look at her in her mocking smile and bowed head. Had she really ever cared at all? Or was did she actually learn something while spying for Kri all those years ago. Perhaps that is what angered the golden most. He had been fooled. She was leaving though. Her white frame growing smaller. The gold was in control of himself more now, his mind having time to process the quick, short conversation. Now there was this unsettling business. She had mentioned his name and that was about to have consequences. As she moved out the gold let his rank magic fall away, letting his figure shiver like falling dust into view of others. She had made him angry though. She had ruffled his feathers. In the end it might actually have been her own demise. If it had been a happier moment, one without threat or bitterness, the gold might have actually left, not even considering the mention of his name. He was a man of the shadows, and though a lover of power he did not prefer the light of it. Oh but her words had fired him, and denying himself the taste of vengeance in the moment left him sore. Accepting the nomination would show her. He would journey back and prove past ills with Gaucho were within his grasp to smooth. She would see the world grow about him from his hand feel puny in its reflections (of course the reality of achieving this, and the responsibility it entailed had not occurred to him as so hateful to his style just yet). His attitude may not last for long, but it was here now, strong enough to do as he might not have otherwise done. As those earth eyes, sharp, hard and clear, turned from her figure to Deimos he was more than ready to accept. Ready to act. Ready to shut those haters up. OOC:: Wardrobe:: circlet, hawk necklace, satchel (blue cloak, pole arm, dagger, armband) Identities:: Ampere, Cashmere "talk talk talk" Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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