Misael&&Lazarus

Strength does not come from the capacity, it comes from the indomitable will

It was a weird kind of silence that washed over him in the seconds of his patrolling around the border, it's a sinking feeling, dragging his heart down with heavy weights. His ears perk forward as he turns to gaze upon the throat, his home, his people, his everything. Lazarus looks at him with curiosity, sniffing the air at his bonded's inquiries. It is light that Miseal see then, blinding and bright, piercing through the day like diamond through stone. He doesn't realize it, but he's running, a barreling mass of man and muscle, pounding through the shifting sands that he'd learn to master, laz keeping up in a blur of black and a swish of his tail, going faster and faster until he stops in a mess of tangled hair and heavy breaths, his eyes settling upon a scene that shook him to his core. There laid the brilliant man of flame, cold and still like the coals of the fire that had once been something beautiful. Gaucho burned no more.

He isn't sure what encompasses him next, a sadness for a fallen brother, a fellow herdsmen, and a damn good leader. He wonders why, shocked, surprised, never expecting the warrior to fall so soon. His head drops low as he passes his respect to the burned out corpse, his heart swelling as the sobs of children filled his ears. Lazarus doesn't understand death, but the cat mimics his master, dropping his great head, any friend to Miseal was a friend to Lazarus. No child should see their father's death, not so young, never. The wildfire had meant so much to so many, may his impact live on and his work never be forgotten. The throat had lost a champion.

The air is thick with grief, but when the sorrows turned to anger, chaos broke loose in a rage of words, the pain of Gaucho's death unleashing like an unchained beast. Miseal quickly jumps into the mess of mare's and their children, tall, massive frame glaring at those involved. “This is no time for separation and anger!" He bellowed, gentle but assertive in his tone. Children had lost their father, friends had lost a friend, and hearts were broken, fighting would only make the situation worse. We must gather together in this stage of grief and honor our fallen leader, this was no one's fault. Rest in peace, dear friend.” He spoke, only trying his best to keep the raging emotions at bay, this wasn't going to be something that would be taken lightly, Miseal at least hoped for the memory to be filled of gratitude of Gaucho and his legacy, not that of harsh words. Long Live Gaucho.



“Talk.”