One such as Gaucho, was rarely at ease. He had never learned to simply be; to chill-out. His mind was far too simplistic to grasp relaxation. As such, he was almost always up and about, making him the ideal solider in more than just his ability to unquestioningly follow orders. Although it was not his patrol, Gaucho had taken to the skies as the sun spilled over the horizon, flooding the Throat with a shower of light and colour. In place of relaxation or pleasantries with the residents of the Throat, Gaucho preferred to guard and patrol. His lack of proper communication skills made conversing with his herd-family quite difficult. He often found himself frustrated, in his own simple way, when his messages were not properly received. On some level, he understood that there was a disconnect between the meanings he intended to be received, and what others heard, but unfortunately he did not have the skills, or the tools, to bridge the gap. Of course, certain messages he was able to convey physically, but many failed to see past his rugged visage, and primitive appearance. And so, Gaucho watched, and Gaucho protected the herd who had become his family. He would fight for them, and would die for them if needed - and that alone, was all they needed to know of him.

High above, Gaucho's impressive black wing-span gently buffeted against the warm currents of air. Unlike almost any other area of Helovia, the Throat was almost always warm, and provided ample thermals for gliding. Mara, his snake companion, was still nestled tightly in his antlers; being a cold blooded creature, she was less mobile in the early morning, regardless of how unseasonably warm the Throat was. Down below, his stormy gaze was re-directed by a flash of light, glistening off droplets of water. His mind recalled an image of a blue/black pegasus, who he had 'played' with (if you can call it that), in those very waters. Back? he wondered idly, as he allowed himself to tilt forward and angle his body towards the ground. As he descended, although the morning was not yet brightly lit, he concluded that no, this was not the bird-mare he had encountered earlier. This was another...He had seen her somewhere before...

SsssSSssSssss Mara hissed drowsily, sending him a mental image of the recent herd-meeting. "She talk lot" Gaucho mumbled to Mara, recognizing Andromeda now. They had all talked a lot during that meeting; save for Gaucho of course. He hardly had the time to pin down the words as they had been said. All he remembered was threat and protect. And indeed, since that meeting, Gaucho had been solely placing himself in a variety of spars, and patrolling the borders. Dutifully, the bay glided even lower - although it was not his patrol now, it was his duty as a soldier to report in to his superiors.... even if they were taking a bath.

Gaucho lowered himself onto the sands with an uncanny grace for a creature his size. Folding his wings neatly to his muscular sides, the bay turned towards his bathing Sargent, and moved in her direction. Gaucho's face was ruggedly handsome, despite the rather feral addition of the bone piercing his nose, and the tribal marking on his eye. His mane was luxuriously long, and surprisingly untangled, as it fell to his shoulders, partially masking the collar of sharpened bone-spikes that he wore for battle. As he neared, the stallion grunted unceremoniously, to make his presence known. Stoically, he regarded Andromeda with a masked stare, revealing little emotion, and remained silent. As he waited, he seemed completely unburdened by the potentially intimate or personal moment that he may have been interrupting, and continued to let his stormy gaze wander over Andromeda's features, with a decidedly masculine interest.