There is nothing subtle in Gaucho's arrival, no quiet dignity as he descends upon the pair. From his bulky form to the overwhelming aroma of magic which spills out from his form, Gaucho is quick to make mark in their minds, and the pair cannot think that it is probably for the best he never sought to be a sleuth.

The boy is the first to note him, a shadow arcing through the sky, broad wings briefly cutting off the sun. He smells of iron and glitters in sulfur, sounds like the roaring of a mountain wind. The girl watches through onyx eyes, eyes which reflect the flickering flames she has been tending to, which glow with a heat and vibrancy recently discovered; she watches and waits, wonders and frowns. What does the Sultan want with her? She suspects it is a task, a request, something to do with her responsibilities as Diviner, her connection to the Sun.

Long limbs take a single stride back as the behemoth shifts, spinning to face firechild and her kin. His flames join the reflections in her eyes, the burning wings and inflamed steps casting a crimson glow across her gold-slashed face. In an unconscious response the girl's breath grows faster, fierce, her own fire spilling around her frame, sparks and embers flittering and flickering, dancing shapeless down her spine. The feelings of welcome which accompany his mate are not stirred within the girl's breast: she knows that Gaucho is favored by the Sun, yet she cannot help but be wary of the King, unsure of his intentions and her feelings toward him, her trust in his judgment. A faint frown paints the lines of her face. She nods in response to his voice, but does not return the greeting. The girl is fairly certain that her Sultan knows his own name. On her back, Natraj lets out an exasperated sigh.

When the sultan does not speak the girl begins to grow uneasy, shifting lightly on feathered feet. Intently she watches as the stallion works, reaching to grab an item from his wing, swinging around to deposit it on the sand. Curiosity mixes with aggravation, impatience- an amulet? Why? The faintest strands of understanding begin to bloom in the back of her mind, and she arcs her neck to exchange a glance with Natraj.

She looks back when the magic hits her, striking her veins with almost staggering force. She gasps.

What fire she felt in her blood before is nothing when compared to Gaucho's magic. It bubbles, boils, sears at her muscle in a most delightful way. The strength of it courses through her, sets her teeth on edge and makes her eyes unfocused. It takes all of her focus to hear his voice through the thunder in her ears. It takes more than she has to quell the anger which begins to rise in her breast.

So that is what this is about. The Basin. The stealths. To be sure, they have bothered the girl- what does the Basin want with her? Yet she knows she is not the only one, has not been the sole target of their wrath. Dark eyes glare at Gaucho, furious and fierce- "Have you made this offer to anyone else?" she questions softly, alto voice a dangerous glint. She suspects she knows the answer.

She suspects it is no.

Because they can all defend themselves. Because they have wings.

Beneath the glow of Gaucho's power, Sacre's magic claws at her lungs, takes a life of its own and drifts into the air. She has no idea what it does, and right now, she does not particularly care.

@[Gaucho]

What was it with his herd? His family? Why was it they took offense at his attempts to help them? To protect them? What had he ever done that had placed their trust in him in the mud? Midas had had faith in him as well as Sohalia. Even the Sun God saw fit to allow him to rule not once, but twice. He had started no wars during his time as ruler and had done nothing that wasn't aimed solely at protecting those around him. Possibly he had made mistakes but ... hadn't everyone ? Why were his faults so unforgivable ?

He couldn't see Tandavi, although Mara's onyx gaze projected her into Gaucho's mind. A feeling of confusion (and could it be? Sadness?) bloomed in the Wildfire's belly, nearly as hot as his own magic. Have you made this offer to anyone else? Why were her words laced with such ire? Why the attitude? The Basin was clearly targeting her. This was the second time the fire child had been targeted in less than a season. The other one to be targeted recently was Phaedra, and she turned up murdered.

Was this about wings? Again? Was she really willing to be this obstinate and place herself into real danger, just because she was so unwilling to admit that she was different but that it was okay? Gaucho was different too. He still struggled to speak Helovia's native language but it wasn't as though he grumbled when Mara - or anyone else - tried to translate for him. If they wanted him to understand it was what was needed. Just like if Tandavi wished to remain alive, this was what was needed.

Gaucho's nostrils flared as his blind gaze narrowed. Perhaps it was better that he could only see her through Mara's gaze. Seeing her with his own eyes, un-approving and seemingly un-wanting of the protection and gift he bestowed her might have been too much given his current condition. It was enough that there was a murderer running around, enough that his power was stunted by the quest that he was on, enough that his entire herd was trying to complete a task (some trying harder than others), but seeing the sweet lines of Tavi's faced contorted into brutal disdain and anger might have been too much. After his conversation with Rasta of having hurt Sohalia, he didn't think he could take one more disappointing or disapproving glare.

"You the only one Basin targeting. Before you they go after Phaedra. Now she dead." His voice was even and deep, almost bordering on patient and paternal. He had learned much of diplomacy these past few weeks, after having to deal with Hotaru, Thranduil, and Ophelia. Perhaps Sohalia's absence was doing him some small speck of good: at least he was learning. Slowly but surely. perks
"They come after you twice now." He continued, massive blue shoulders shrugging - it was all information that she knew. "Gaucho not always here because of quest. Warriors around but ... maybe not always. Maybe not when you need it. This help to protect .." His mouth remained open by words ceased to flow from it. How could he make her understand? What more could he say that hadn't already been said?

Had he known that she could simply take on his abilities perhaps he wouldn't have bothered with the amulet. But it was the thought that counted. And the thought was not Tandavi is weak it was, Protect her. Why on earth would she ever think it wasn't?

Gaucho wasn't immediately able to discern that the girl was doing anything to him. Mara hadn't indicated that she moved in any particular way, and his great bulk and strength made the sapping of his energy a low going process. Still, he felt tired all of a sudden. This he chalked up to the mental strain that he was under for having to deal with the emotions of so many mares lately. Thranduil had been relatively easy to deal with - but the mares? Much less so. "Gaucho never want Tandavi to be hurt." He concluded finally, shutting his dark lips and rolling his tongue in his mouth which suddenly felt very dry. In his antlers Mara looked from Tavi to Natraj. If she could have sighed she would have. Hissing softly her black gaze moved sadly back to the golden girl.

She had not known about Phaedra. She remembers, dimly, the flamboyant mare, remembers disliking her and the strange magic she possessed. Now she wonders what else she does not know, what Gaucho has not told her over these past months. To be sure, the Sultan has never sought her counsel, nor made any effort to speak to the girl, despite the ranks she has held within his herd. If he had, perhaps he would know how little she wanted his defense, how much his swooping in to her rescue insulted the fibers of her independent core.

And perhaps - perhaps - she deserved their attempts. Perhaps this was payment for the sins of her family, a strike against the final fruit of a lineage so clouded by crimes against the world. "Maybe they have a reason," she offers, dark voice brittle in the brilliant light. "My blood is not guiltless." She swallows hard anxiety, crams it into her throat. Was her very presence here putting her new family in danger, making the Throat a target for attack? This is a possibility she has not considered, yet when it springs up it is not from a sense of pride, a misplaced ego or idea of importance.

If only they knew how alike they were, the girl and the giant, the child and the king. Both so fiercely independent, both so devoted to a need to protect. The kitsune can feel her ire building, fueled by the fear that she is the problem, that she is the reason her herd is not safe. When Gaucho opens his mouth to speak, the boy almost wishes he could push it shut, could save them all from whatever will emerge. But he cannot. He can only feel the heat of her anger, the sting to her pride as he declares that warriors must keep her safe.

Sharp claws dig into her withers, an attempt to ground the flaming girl which only leads to greater trials. Tandavi's eyes flash with fury, though why she is angry she cannot say. The attention of Gaucho, the assertions, endless, that she needs to be safe - "I don't need warriors to protect me!" she cries. She's a defender, she is a knight- there are so many others who could use his strength, could benefit from his concern! She looks to the amulet which lies on the sand, and knows that it would be better served upon the neck of someone else.

"What about your sons?" she questions, cold fire rising like steam from her lips. "What about Amani? Sikeax? The children of this herd? What about the girl who was born upon these sands, yet now stays prisoner of the Unicorns up North, her wings no doubt a plaything? How will you protect all of them?" Natraj digs deeper, and his claws strike a vein, and before he can cry out fire rises heavy from the girl's sides, taking the form of a dragon and snapping toward the winged king. It is unfair to throw Aithniel against him, she knows, yet the frustration of being able to do nothing finds sweet release now as she seethes. She has struggled with how to rescue the girl since she discovered the child was still alive. Maybe Gaucho can do more than she.

Maybe she is being a fool.

Her voice fades and her breath falls heavy, the fiery dragon settling on the sands beside her feet. "Then make us strong," she whispers, fury replaced with weary frustration, whirlwind wrath faded to resigned ire. "All you do is hide us away and fight all our battles. Make all our decisions. Blow up our home. You have a chancellor, and a queen. Medics. Soldiers. Spies. Me. If you spent less time treating us all like infants, maybe you'd have time to figure out who any of us actually are." She pauses, frowning, staring intently at the antlered beast. "Maybe you would let us help you, instead of treating us like loadstones around your neck."

@[Gaucho]

Gaucho's ears flickered slightly as the golden girl implied that perhaps she could warrant these attacks. It seemed ... beyond absurd to the warrior's ears. Regardless of what Tandavi had allegedly done, this was larger than her. This was about The Throat and their autonomy. If the Basin had a problem with one of their members they should have sought out Gaucho himself as their lead to deal with it, or tried to reconcile with Tandavi on more civil terms. That the girl had done something to warrant these crimes against her and the Throat was ridiculous.

It was both the beauty and the downfall of a simple mind like his. Wars and attacks that were fought or motivated by anything less than basic battle courtesy's were lost upon him. Chivalry and the art of battle was something the dun took very seriously.

Gaucho might have waited. Might have responded appropriately to her charge that she didn't need warriors to protect her (although in looking at her, the girl was all bones and petite. Her mouth was the only large organ she seemed to possess), or to consider her accusations of where his protection ought to lay, with his kin or the other females of the herd. Had she not mentioned Aithniel, it might have been different. Perhaps he would have tried to draw her attention to how hypocritical. The systemic injustices she thought were perpetrated against her for failing to have wings, were not the only injustices that there were. Oh no, from her lips she demonstrated that she had her biases too. Why did Ampere not need protection then? Why not Hector or Buce? Was it because they were strong? Why not Cera? Because he was male? No one in life chose their fundamental hardware. Yet the girl seemed alright with the advantages that came along with some, but not others.

None of this would be said however, for Tavi said possibly the only thing that could have shattered Gaucho's resolve to condemn her behavior.

What about the girl who was born upon these sands, yet now stays prisoner of the Unicorns up North, her wings no doubt a plaything?

Gaucho is visibly shocked. His large frame retreats a step as his flaming wings rise from his flanks as if he means to set off for the Basin at that very moment. He knew of Aurelia's capture and her escape but .. she wasn't born in the Throat. Who was? It would have to be someone very young, for Gaucho had only been gone a season at most. Before that he knew of every creature born in the Throat, and they were all accounted for.

"Who?" He demanded, gaze sharp as he looked onto the sands, still unable to see the golden vixen. Nothing else mattered. This discussion was a frustrated and unimportant conversation if one of their own had been taken. There would be time to iron out the details with Tandavi, but if one of their own was at the mercy of the Basin. And Ophelia hadn't even said anything to him!

Perhaps he would have said more, explained how he had just spoken with the Basin's leaders and declared a weak truce, were it not for the fire. This was the second time recently he had been consumed by his own flames, and he was not impressed. The fire that lingered on his wings flared up as the fire-composed dragon flew at him. Gaucho danced easily to the side as the creature snapped at his left wing. Frowning gently as his breath laboured oddly, he sent his own fire creature towards Tandavi's dragon - although his appeared to be a giant pheonix. As his wraith dealt with the one the golden girl had sent, Gaucho exhaled sharply. It should have been much easier to evade the creature. Why was he tired all of a sudden?

Boiling amusement seethed in his stormy gaze as his wings continued to burn bright and high, the flames licking upwards as if trying to leap from his blackened feathers. He was not angry that the girl had thrown magic back at him. In fact, it was entirely what he would have expected someone to do. So many in the Throat were afraid of him, intimidated by him. They were weak if they feared their own leader. By Tandavi ... had not been one to hold her tongue, or her magic apparently.

"I TRY TO" He bellowed in response. "Gaucho give them tasks. Give them rewards. Gaucho try and test them but what they do? Lay by Oasis. " It wasn't true of all of them, but it was true of enough. "Herd have quest from Sun God. Sun God. How much is done? A few take it seriously. Take jobs seriously. The rest ... " His voice trailed off. The rest just didn't.

At her latter accusations, the Wildfire pinned his ears. He was just about sick and tired of people telling him his faults. It was bad enough when they did it, but it was worse when they got things wrong. "Gaucho make decisions because leader. But ask for herd input. Ask about Island. Herd decide on bridge! Not time to ask for everything. That why we have herd meetings. That why you have leaders to make decisions."

He was unable to see her gaze as it bore into him, but he could certainly her pause. Ears still pressed into his neck, he raised a large blackened hoof and promptly shoved it into the sands. "That not Gaucho's job. Throat have two leaders - one of fighting. One of diplomacy. This not what Gaucho is supposed to do-" Although his words were stern and rough, he almost sounded lost. He had been lost, fumbling his way through duties and obligations that were Sohalia's rather than his. And what did he get for it?

What satisfaction the girl may have felt at the wash of shock upon Gaucho's face... well, Tandavi is not one to find pleasure in such things. She does not fight for points, does not throw insults to see her opponent quell, fall beneath the weight of her words. She fights because she is lit, a beacon aflame, an unquenchable inferno, a phoenix destined to burn until death. She fights because she has something to say, more indeed than she initially knew. How did an argument on self sufficiency devolve to a discussion on the relationship of a leader to a herd?

For a brief and beautiful moment, the battle stills, and they see the world eye to eye, both concerned for a filly whose full story neither quite knows. "Her name is Aithniel," the girl states softly, "And we lost her when she was born." Guilt creeps into the alto voice; a broken hitch and she looks away, violent eyes focused on the backdrop of flame. She remembers it all, a constant loop of mistakes running in the background of her industrious mind. Her face contorts, softens, falls and she shuts her eyes tight. In this life and the next, the young knight knows, she shall never forgive herself this wretched sin.

She stares at the fire and fights back her shame, pushes away the agony of all of her mistakes. She would do anything to make it right- Did all we can, her brother reminds, though she knows the boy feels as remorseful as she. Up to her now. Long braids swing as she shakes her head, forelock dancing across the gold-slashed face as it returns to Gaucho, seeking but not quite catching his eyes. "She wanted to stay. And I cannot protect her there." Brittle ferocity cracks in her voice, sincerity bringing life to the alto tones. They are grown now. They know better.

They will never repeat the same mistakes.

The still passes, the eye of the storm drifting over a land, leaving more chaos as it makes its final pass. Phoenix and dragon battle on the sands, as their masters fight a less physical war. It takes all the girl has not to step back from the force of Gaucho's bellows, not to grimace in the volume which erupts from his chest. She faces back boldly, head held firm; she lets the words wash over her ears and into her brain, take form and tell stories, paint a picture of sheer frustration which strums firm strains of response within her chest. A part of her yearns to shout back, fire her own shots- We agreed to a bridge; you didn't give us a choice on the island! I take my job seriously; you're the one who does not seem to care! She wants to demand how they are expected to prove themselves, when he does not seem to see the things they do?

She supposes there is some truth to his words. Leaders are present to make decisions- but how can they make informed choices, when they are not informed? Again, she begins to silently seethe: if he had asked if she needed protection to begin with, this entire discussion could have been circumvented! The copper girl yearns to slam her head into the sand as he declares he simply does not have time- did she not just tell him to delegate? Of course, she thinks, he does not have time- he is too busy trying to run the world on his own! She hears the thud of his hoof on the ground, but does not let it draw her gaze away. Stubbornly, angrily, she will stare him down, until he realizes how stupid a creature he can be.

"Then where is Sohalia?" she demands of him fiercely. "Nobody can help you unless you let them-" the smoke which pours from her lips grows still, the fire which swirls around her form subdued. Ribs expand as she fills her lungs, breathing deeply, exhaling slowly, another cloud of embers leaving her throat. Perhaps her patience would have been greater, had she any familiarity with Gaucho to begin. Had she any real ability to read others. Had she any tact. Black eyes close as she releases the sigh.

Slowly heavy lids pull back. She wishes she could open her eyes and see past his thick skull, into his head. She wishes she could simply push herself into his mind, pick it apart at her leisure until she understood what made it tick. But there is importance behind the mystery, a reason we shield ourselves from the truth of others' thoughts. The girl knows she would never wish to have herself so painfully exposed, would fight tooth and nail before laying bare the workings of her soul.

Still, if she could just force a little sense into that Sun-damned skull...

"There's been so much change," she states at last, but this time the frustration in her voice is not for him. It is for everyone, everything, all the shifts and cycles which have robbed from her security. In the Edge, Mirage had been the only Queen, but here... Ampere. Africa. Sohalia. Gaucho. Bucephalus. More leaders than seasons, and to what end? "Nothing's stable. Nothing's constant. How are you going to educate your children, defend our home, form bonds and friendship, and get to know your herd- if you don't let us help? I want to help!" she shouts the last, both at him and at the world, both to the Sun and to herself. Don't try to protect me! Give me a way to fight!

@[Gaucho]

As she seethes, Gaucho's expression remains unchanged by each glare, each tilt of her head, each ripple of her muscles beneath her golden coat. Instead his eyes burn a hole straight forward, more or less where she stands and yet ... it is a little off. He doesn't know where to focus, and so his gaze keeps rising slightly before he is reminded by Mara to lower it. Arguing with someone you can't see feels ... very strange. At times Gaucho feels like he's arguing with the fire that burns and crackles nearby. Perhaps he'd have better luck if it was the fire, instead of this damned know-it-all child.

As she mentions Sohalia, the urge to slam the girl into the sands becomes overwhelming. He had bore her attack on him with amusement, but at the mention of his mate (former mate for all he knew), things reached a boiling point within his primitive mind. That she would dare bring Sohalia into this felt ... personal. However instead, displaying a fair amount of pain and sadness, Gaucho's dark lips opened as he bellowed into her face, "I DON'T KNOW." His words were laced with sadness, anger, regret, and pain. Sohalia had just gone, even after promising to stay. He assumed she was working on something for the Academy but ... but what? What could she be doing that even Tandavi didn't know where she was? The Academy had been the golden girl's brainchild after all. "SHE JUST ... go..." The anger dropped out of his voice entirely, revealing raw emotion as his voice softened. Gritting his teeth the Wildfire pulled his gaze from the invisible girl, regarding the flames as she had done moments ago. The muscles of his jaw clenched as he fought back the emotion burning in his stomach. "No one ever offer to help-" He continued, still not looking at her (not that it would have made a difference anyways). "Everyone criticize. Say when Gaucho does wrong. No one ever say they will help." He thought of their last herd meeting, and the one before that, and even before that. They were all so quick to condemn his actions but when it came down to it, that's all they were willing to do it seemed. Yell, but never get off their asses to do anything.

The thought of educating his children seemed odd. He didn't even know where they were. Zenobia was apparently doing her best to avoid the Throat, Rhoa was around sulking, and Ivezho was with Sohalia Gods knew where. He agreed that leadership had been unsteady as of late. From his warriors he heard what a weak attempt at leadership had come from Africa and Sohalia in his stead. And he had to admit he questioned whether or not Buce's promotion was advisable. Still, Tavi was right. He did need help - but who was there to help?

I want to help.

Her words practically responded directly to this thoughts. Turning his blocky head back in her direction, he stared, rather out of focus, where she stood. Tandavi ? The girl was ... capable apparently, if her recent magical demonstration was any indication of her power. Perhaps she was a little self righteous but .. what did that matter? She had a way with words - perhaps not a silver tongue but a fiery one - and had been in the Throat long enough to know her way around things. He needed someone to occupy the role that she precisely was badgering him about. Keeping up with the herd, education ... all the things that she had lectured him about ... could she take on those tasks? Would she?

"Then do it." He replied, voice even once again. "Gaucho .. not know how long until Soh is back. Tandavi right ... things need to be done that Gaucho not do. That Gaucho can't do. You want to help? Do the things."

And just like that, the promotion was offered. But would the girl would the loud voice and big ideas put her money where her mouth was?

She breathes heavy in the empty space, devouring air with greedy lungs. She can feel every muscle work, the shifting of sinew and the aching of bone; she can feel herself tremble in the absence of wrath, taste silence as it floods back into the vacant zones of her body. There is a burn beginning in the rarely-used throat, an ache forming just behind onyx eyes. Her brother slips forward on the length of her spine, nuzzling softly the base of her mane. She blinks in the silence, copper nostrils flared wide. I want to help echoes through her mind. I want to help.

What was I thinking?

His voice is firm when he finally speaks, solid and straight, a line of stability she bites against with quivering teeth. She nearly balks at being told she is right- but he was right about many things, too. He was right to be weary of opulent inaction, right to be frustrated by the ways of the world. He was wrong to think he knew her when clearly he did not, to underestimate and overcompensate, but even the girl has to confess that his intentions were based in the right place.

And her? She was right too, but now that insight has formed something new. From a attestation of independence this has crumbled and reformed, fallen and taken form as something entirely new, unexpected, unwanted, yet invited by her words. Then do it, he tells her. Do the things- and she wants to say how? Why would you ever ask me?- but she asked him, and everything is black.

She understands his offer. She wishes she did not. What sort of coward would she be, if she backed down now? How could she ever claim honor again, expect another to believe her words, if she throws them out so easily, candy on Halloween? What weight could her promises ever hold- what meaning could anything from her lips be laced with? Yet this- this is not what she wanted at all, a possibility never once entertained, a reality she would shirk from on any other day. She wanted to help. She never asked to lead.

Need to lead to help new family, Natraj whispers from her back. He has been quiet until now, a soothing presence, grounding, but letting the girl work through her rage. Now he speaks up through the strength of their bond, pushing reassurance and support and encouragement into her mind. Can help Gaucho. Sohalia come back soon. Teach foals. Teach magic. Learn more. This good, Tavi. The girl frowns, ears dancing back. She resists the urge to scream aloud.

Raj... I'm afraid.

But we're together.

Reluctant resolve, unwilling responsibility; she shoulders it all and turns back to the King, onyx eyes dark, firm and unyielding. "Yes," she says simply, one solid note floating on the birdsong breeze, free of verbrato, alto and resolute. A weight falls off her shoulders. Another settles upon her chest. She inhales deeply and nods her head, silver mane dancing in the flickering light. "I will help."

She is a champion. She has a cause. And suddenly, beautifully, she is burdened with glorious purpose and it feels exhilarating.

@[Gaucho]

And the tension is gone.

Gaucho visibly relaxes. Only occasionally does the dun hold grudges - far more needs to be done against him to hold his anger. A few loud words and his own flames pale in comparison to treachery or deceit. The girl has stood against him, both mentally and physically and has come out unburned by the Wildfire. This pleases him. He's unsure of how the scraggly girl will hold herself in battle, but her mind has proven itself sharp enough. And if the fire that fuels her words are any indication, he is sure that she will not sit idle as others have.

Gaucho's nostrils flared and his head bobbed casually. "Good." He grunted, simply and decisively. It was done then.

"Gaucho and Tandavi go North in few days. Talk to Ophelia about attacks. Gaucho see her few days ago when go to get Phaedra's body. We make peace then .. this attack not come from her. Not time. Still ... need to talk to them. Make sure it not going to continue-" He emphasized talking as if to suggest that he was capable of doing more than just crushing his enemies. He was learning. He would try talking first. He could always kill everyone later if it came to that.

"-even if Tandavi deserve it." He added, winking in entirely the wrong direction.

Being funny was not Gaucho's strong suit. Through Mara's eyes, Gaucho saw the amulet on the ground, unused and still seemingly unwanted. Nostrils flaring, the dun sighed quietly to himself. "That still have Gaucho's magic in it. If you not need it for protection, maybe you find someone who does. Maybe lost filly." If Tandavi wanted to be a champion of the young, so be it. He had more amulets. He was happy to fill them all with his magic and disperse them if that's what the herd needed.