A relentless presence, protective; a trait believed to have been influenced by myself in some miniscule way when we stood as humble soldiers half a century ago. Just as it was taught in my youth by Kri, and passed onward to future generations. Gaucho was a worthy ruler; always keeping a paternal eye directed to his family. Kin once shared, though tight bonds had loosened over time and distance, I still clung to their dangling threads out of habit and naive belief of mutual understanding. Gems caught his flaming form in the distance, uptop a high dune. The fire is at odd with yon dying ember -- a contest he, Africa and Fina won with ease at night.

My gaze shifts to the labored woman beside me, softening visibly toward her words...uncertainty, a mirror of my soul. "Aye." It wasn't a moment later that yon flame erupts to heaven. Easily followed against the royal backdrop of constatations newly emerging. I stand fast, a fond smile forming -- welcoming his descent to our level. Though, my expression is surprisingly met with hardly more than formality. "Hail," I utter kindly, undiluted by those eyes that greet me absent expected warmth. Fina, having long since noticed the amber hued creature now uptop his regal crown, gave a sharp cry. As warm a greeting as any. Neve shuffles up my neck, digging her ivory talons deep within the silken locks and fur there. Aiming to catch his fledgling's glaze and maybe strike up a game while the adults palaver.

I notice how those dark eyes linger on Africa, scrutinizing? My thoughts begin to spin toward assumption that the bay lord was less than pleased to witness a former sister of his herd once again upon the sand. Limbs loosen, hopefully unnoticeably allowing this body to lean her way, momentarily brushing against Africa's swollen frame with my wing. An attempt of comfort and reassurance.

One ear drifts back and brows lift upon catching his flat statement; was it a sign that we'd only be welcomed at his convenience? Or simply a comment born from nothing...? Surely his home was as open to us...as mine was to him; had the dragonheart not come knocking on the stone requesting aid from the Fall's only half a season prior? "Aye, pardon. We arrive later than intended..." I carry my stare upward, glancing toward the darkened sky musingly, "Would ye hold a palaver? There is much I'd like to discuss," I drop my eyes and lift unadorned head toward his taller crown, questioning his rigid manner without words. In an attmept to balm whatever lay between us I utter softly, "If we've arrived at a bad time, we can take leave to the caves and return when the sun shines?"

His agreement toward offering words give reassurance. I venture a wider smile and return the gesture with equal depth; giving warmth where a cool breeze did blow. Once again its noted how those deep, unreadable pools travel to the swollen lady beside me. The flesh along my spine and shoulders brace, trembling, taunt against whatever may come. Tis a base animalistic instinct, born from a protective desire to shield her, take the pain from whatever scrutiny his mind might be spinning. What slips forth from those dark jaws is not a lash meant to sting, but a caress.

Neve takes advantage of the opportunity and flutters to the ground. Her steely gems peer earnestly up at Gaucho's bright companion; a shrill chirp follows. Seeking sport, she hops up and down upon his sand, those icy feathers unfurl with tips trailing earth. A path of unintended frost spreads outward from her clawed toes -- though the held heat within the infected granuels make it vanish an instant later. "Pay?" Yon babe chortles in their shared tongue.

The muscles which froze up mid-stare, grow slack once more. Visibly relaxing. Ivory pinions shift, sealing themselves tighter; holding in the sweltering heat. Did our meeting have to be so formal? I'd liked to have greeted the king as a friend, and brother. Our bond had been proven time and time again, never straying from the rigid path. It would seem though, that whatever plagued his mind -- would continue to do so.

Once again I'm looking into those orbs, they are distant. Upon his word, granting permission, I speak, "During a patrol, I came across one of thee soldiers inside the Fall's," tone thickens, not bothering to mask my disappointment, "bickering with Rasta. Tis then I learned that Sohalia had been within our mountain just days before." The soldier, Megaera, had left abruptly...rashly, "I extend an offer to aid; the same as the one I offered her." Brows rise gesturing toward the north, "Soldiers to aid thee hunt..." a pause, "should ye still have need of it." Peering expression had narrowed midway, attempting to gage a reaction that would solidify my assumption.

Gaucho's flown dove, hadn't returned to his sands.