Fire had already begun to rise on his wings in response to his question. He had assumed the answer would have been yes - if she was just coming back to Helovia, then surely she would require some amount of healing. But her words abruptly halted the flames, and they died back down to their usual pulsing height on his wings.

Yes, I am healthy. Her praise at being able to heal fell upon ears which were too deaf to hear them - his mind was too occupied to really discern the sound. Inside of his mind, Mara tried to help piece his thoughts together for him. Ssssssoh leave. Ssssssshe not jussssst returning. Gaucho swallowed hard as he stared into the depths of her gaze, feeling himself drowning in more ways than one. He had already acknowledged that she had left - not just left, but left him. It was stupid to think that she would return to him, that the first thing she would do when she returned to Helovia was come back to him - or at least make her presence known. Fine, fine. He could stomach the thought that he wasn't at the top of her priority list but ... not even second? Third? What about her children? No one had reported having seen Sohalia, and he knew, just based on Rhoa's temperament, that had the boy seen his Mother after so long, Gaucho would know about it. If not from Rhoa reporting it, but from the stupidly absurd smile he would see plastered on the gray stallion's face. A smile, which had been on his own just seconds prior.

Ssssssshe does not want to sssssee you. Mara concluded, finalizing what Gaucho's mind was slowly coming around to concluding.

He missed the way she was looking at him - not that he might have been able to recognize it for what it was, even if he had been paying attention. Such things were always just out of his reach. It's -- a lovely day for a flight, isn't it? Her words pulled him back, but only just, and he visibly had to shake himself and reassert his gaze back to the present.

He looked around, letting his gaze fall flatly at the golden expanses, almost as if he were trying to confirm whether or not it was a lovely day. But then - partially thanks to the two female voices in his mind - he realized she wasn't talking about the weather at all. She was just filling the silence.

She had never had to do that before.

Gaucho dipped his antlered skull slightly in agreement, feeling something hard and ugly clenching in his throat. It was his happiness - the excitement he had felt at seeing her, the rush of adrenaline, of love and nostalgia. It was now burning and charring in his throat.

It took him a few moments to pull his gaze away from the mirror-like mirages of the Flats. When he did, his gaze was soft and sad, his features not quite so chiseled and hard, but droopy, somehow. As if his entire being was being pulled down by the weighty feeling in his heart.

He tried to think of some small morsel of small talk that he could offer her in response - after all, she could have flown away, but didn't. She had invited him to land, had initiated this small talk, but he didn't know how to follow. Exhaling a few almost frustrated breaths - like the starting of sentences that just drifted off into vapor, he finally turned just to look at her. He said nothing, though, just drank her in, as if this was to be the last time he saw her. And who knew? It probably was. She was back after all. Back, but not with him. Back, but not wanting to see him, it seemed.

But she landed. He thought defensively. Why would she do that?

"Soh-" He said at last, his lips husky and loving around the shape of her name as he whispered the word into the growing and screaming stillness between them.