In twisting world of murders and liars the golden one stands to the side with a viciously wild grin. So smooth was he that he slipped right away from that black clambering soldier without a trace. Just a flick of the ear and a troubled expression in his wake. Oh how beautifully done that was, perfectly executed. The gold was rather pleased with himself, and why shouldn’t he be? That criticizing creature had made a mockery of the gold once, so the trade was fair.

Except, the slow oaf does nothing. Seriously?! After all that the man just stands there like it was nothing? A long sigh rattles out near silently into the air. Who cared if he got caught now, the fun was ruined. Harks fall flat and the gold moves from behind the spotted creature as the conversation before him begins to turn. He has one hark set on it but his own mind still rattles about his ruined fun sport. Perhaps his words were not chosen right…The fact that the love was so pure that even such a claim could not break it was of course, impossible. Love was a weakness not a strength. Of that the golden was most certain.

Stopping now where he had stood before, behind his lady the golden pauses to see what they were jabbering about now. More on the recent murders. A bristling went uncontrollably down the golden’s spine as his mind came back to the burning corpse to the side. There was still the problem of the murder and apparently Gaucho’s mind wasn’t talking. They are stuck. Well duh they are stuck! The god damn place doesn’t make sense! If the golden himself could not figure out the mess of bodies piling up, of course they couldn’t. But the gods…

The golden in his invisible cloak looked with more full attention on the gathering as Gaucho began to speak. The dun was bold in his limitations. The gold was actually impressed? Once again the fire bird was proving he could stand the heat, and maybe perhaps thrived in it. The thought that the brute was framed was new. It certainly would be easy in his earlier state, and was a neat little way to tiddy up the messiness of killing of the beast themselves. Justice was nothing but a twisting of the truth, and it seemed someone was playing puppet with it.

A name cuts across the conversation. One belonging to a damsel queen. The golden is lost from the conversation for a moment. In his own world, in this thoughts, a dangerous thing. Quickly though like a ship tossed about in a wave he rights himself. His lady would not move to attack the brute before her. Well of course not, the whole situation was now a complete and utter mess of confusion. So they sought the gods to solve their problems. What could the Gods do? They granted powers, and favors, but their minds were not to be known, and most certainly were not to be sworn to the well-being of this world. Were not the Gods who gave the powers to heal also the ones who gave the powers to torture, burn, lie, and kill? The creators of the good were also the creators of the evil. To say for sure the Gods cared of this earth and the well-being of those in it was a stretch. A foolish, mortal stretch.

However. A field trip sounded fun didn’t it? So while the golden could step in a whisper sickeningly twisting words, he did not. That was an old trick and one that had not proved to be much fun. These creatures were too adept at keeping their thoughts so tightly locked away. So they weren’t throwing punches or accusing each other anymore, well fun couldn’t last forever could it? Besides, this was actually quite a nice turn of events. Though it was doubtable the Gods would let him slip in unannounced, it was also just as doubtable that they would care.

The dun speaks up again, and the gold can only sigh at the ending fun. Of course the world would come to its senses in the end. Chaos couldn’t last forever, especially one as ripe for the picking as this. Of course it would have been fun to start a war here and continue the long proud tradition of dying, but when it came to these murders, and actual blame, there seemed to be something so dark lying over them that even the golden kept his distance. The fire bird wishes to regroup later, but the golden knew better. This group would never rejoin such as this, or if they did it would be so boring and filled with the dullness of inconclusion such as this. Besides that pink spy would be damned before she gave up her treasures if she had one respectable ounce of a good spy in her, and the gold was fairly certain she was.

Still, the golden had gained quite a lot from this little gathering. Another black amulet rested close to his bosom, and a helpful to load of new information was his to sort through. A nice tidy fat file to store. Shaking his twin horns the golden waited for the group to disperse, for it would be easier to slip away unheard and unnoticed by the leaving of others. It had been fun while it lasted but apparently all good things must come to an end, even if those good things are actually really horrible morbid, and moral questioning things.



Thranduil Speaks

As passionate and sure as her declarations might have been, Meg didn’t know shit.

Moment by moment the lesson was being bashed into her skull and she could only stand there and take it. She spoke of the Gods of Helovia, but what did she really know of them? She had stood in the presence of the Sun God several times as he talked to other people, and the other three she had spotted once, from a distance, at the beginning of this horrid shit-show. She didn’t even know which herds the others claimed as their own. As for the other herds? The only members of those she knew (except for her strange run-in with Mauja) were only because they had once lived in the Throat. She hadnever been more out of her depth.

The little warhawk was held transfixed in the mismatched gaze of the White Queen. Though heart and mind cried out for Megaera to do something, to say something, there was no rebuttal that she could make to Ophelia’s lecture. All of her points felt like they should make logical sense but they all felt so very wrong. ”You trust too easily in gods and herds…” but what was Megaera without Dragon’s Throat? What was her might without the Sun God’s magic? What was her worth without Gaucho’s trust? She was no longer a child in the measure of years but now she felt like one all the same. Here in the pantheon of Kings and Gods and Justice, she was an ignorant foot-soldier.

When she felt Gaucho’s nose upon her shoulder, it seemed like a confirmation of her words, a gesture of approval and praise, and even of that is how it was meant, all that good feeling was melted away when she felt the strange slither of the snake. The mare jerked her head around, finally breaking from Ophelia’s gaze, to see Mara slid across her own shoulders and all that incited was a horrid dread that she had never before experienced. Was he giving up? For Gaucho to part from his companion, who for the moment was also his eyes… What other explanation could there be? She stared up at the stallion, for once stunned into silence

When Gaucho spoke, he seemed as calm as could be under the circumstances, and he called for a gathering of evidence, evidence that the others had been pointing in his direction. Would he really submit himself to the whims of this eclectic tribunal, when surely there was some other explanation, some other culprit that they seemed to have no interest in finding? Megaera had suggested calling the Gods but to have the Sun King and Ice Queen agree with her made that seem the worst decision, like she had expedited a hasty judgment against her own argument.

What could this soldier do but obey? What could this spitfire do but hold her tongue? All her life seemed to shrink around her, all she knew how to do was fight but that door had been slammed in her face.

Stand your ground, girl!

The echo of her father’s voice was replaced by Gaucho’s rumble, and she obeyed.

The confusion, the plea, fell away from her face and only a grim determination replaced it. She had to trust, In her Sultan, in her God, in herself to go down fighting but only if the decision went against them. Her body retracted to, to stand at Gaucho’s side, straight, tall (as much as she could be among these giants), and draped in the steel snake.