As Gaucho races by, he is unable to see any looks of fear, or terror which might have passed across Soh's face as he abruptly interfered with her flight. He often forgets that the world of the beautiful is a great deal more fragile than he is. But even as he turns his primitively handsome face to look back towards her, he hears no sounds of alarm issuing from her, and assumes that she is alright.

Although the bone piercing his nostrils, and the light-gold ray around his left eye only increase the primitive aura he gives off, his visage softens substantially as he smiles back at the white mare. Gaucho is glad that she has not taken offence by his actions, and in fact, as his steely gaze washes over her, appears delighted that she is in fact flying towards him. His ears perk forward with an innocent expectance as he looks at her with a tangible lustiness in his gray-blue gaze.

As she drops and rolls in an arch to arrive at his side, he follows her movements with his gaze, not making any attempt to hide the way his eyes linger upon the slender lines of her body, or to try and mask the impressed smirk upon his muzzle. Therein lies the small amount of charm, that Gaucho does possess. He plays no games, as other stallions might, hiding their looks of interest. His face reveals precisely what he feels, for better or worse. Now, it revealed only keen interest: For her dynamics as a flyer, of which his large body could surely not replicate, and for her graceful beauty, and the delicate lines of her body. As she addresses him, he tosses his antlered brow to imply the negative of her question.

"I am Gaucho", he offers. His voice is rich and resonant as he speaks, and yet his words sound awkward as if he doesn't often speak, or perhaps that he isn't very good at it. In fact, both are true. Looking expectantly at her now, Gaucho tilted his head to the side slightly, snorting softly. "You are mare of Throat. Gaucho protect you." What could that mean? Gaucho protect you? Was it to imply that he would not have hurt her, when he previously rushed passed her? Was it a reference to his rank within the herd? Or...was it more?

Gaucho watched her, as one might watch an unknown animal. His brow furrowed with each of her movements, as if trying to decipher what was going on beneath the surface. His primitive instincts served him well on the battlefield, and yet soaring now in the skies with Sohalia, they only served to keep in the air, but aided him no further. As she mentioned that he was a solider, a genuine smile of delight broke across his stoic features, as he nodded proudly. If he was anything at all in the world, he was that. He was no artist, no romantic - no poet or story teller. He was simple, and he was strong. All the ways in which he could not contribute to his herd, or to impress upon them how he felt, he portrayed on the battle field. Every kick, slice, and bruise was a result of his love and loyalty, although probably only a few actually understood him that way: Kri and Onni perhaps...and My-dus.

As she spoke her name, the proud smile immediately fell from his features. Suddenly he looked confused and frustrated, and his ears moved back slightly to emphasize this even more. With a large sigh, Gaucho forced his ears forward again, looking as though he was concentrating quite hard. "Sss-oh" He began tentatively, looking towards her, as if for confirmation. "Ssss-hoh-lee-ah" He finally managed, hesitantly looking at with her with an expectant gaze of, Was I at least close?. Words were hard for the brute, and Sohalia's name was not an easy one. He constantly felt frustrated and challenged by how easily and fluidly everyone around him seemed to speak.

"S-oh" he says with an affirmative nod. Yes, that's much better. He isn't entirely sure if she is shortening the name simply for him, or not, but he cares little either way. She wouldn't be the first to try and dumb things down for him. Yet for all of his nomadic tendencies - his primitive simpleness when it came to speech - he had become quite adept at understanding others, via means other than relying on their words. Soh seemed...like a point of light, hidden beneath a haze. Or at least, that was how his mind projected it. He sensed a vibrancy to her, a world of colour beneath her snow-white appearance, and yet it was....diluted somehow. If he could verbalize it, he might say that she seemed guarded, regardless of her polite words towards him. What was the tone meant to imply, when she named him a soldier? Why was she asking about his family? Surely that wasn't what she really wanted to know now was it. Of course, that would have been far too complex for the brute; all he could do was act in his own simple way.

Beating his wings down hard, he pulled ahead of the white mare, one - then two body lengths. Turning with an odd grace for a creature of his size, he flew backwards, his wings now beating towards her. With each stroke, his wing tips moved closer to her face, as if creating a cave for just the two of them, with every beat. His carelessly handsome face focused upon her, and her alone. There was a knowingness behind those steely blue's, and a primal lustiness as well. Slowing the beat of his wings, the distance between the two began to close, until it could only be described as intimate. As if there was something tangible between them, rather than just warm air. Could she scent the sage and juniper wafting from him? Could she feel his body heat, as his chest muscles threatened to bumping against her? For surely he could feel her. Reaching his muzzle out, with a tantalizing slowness, as if meaning to brush it against hers, Gaucho whispered huskily "No family.".

He had answered her question from before, but had he not given her something to think about, as well? What did she think he meant to do? To say? As the words left his muzzle, his wings ceased beating and his massive body dropped from before her. Tumbling towards the ground, he kept his steely gaze trained upon her white form, even as the orangey-red Throat terrain rushed to meet him. Although it was not as graceful as Sohalia had been earlier, Gaucho too saved himself from certain demise, by throwing his body forward and extending his massive black wings. With a powerful beat of his wings, he was once again propelled into the air.

No; Gaucho knew Sohalia was not some delicate thing who would break lest he touch her (and oh! What a tantalizing thought touching her was!). He did however, want to see the wall around her shatter.

We might wonder what Sohalia would think, if she found out that Note and Gaucho did know each other - that they had sparred together? Gaucho remembers well, for the smaller dusty stallion had, without warning, pulled lightning from the sky which burned deep into Gaucho's wither. The paint had been enormous, and yet he had still defeated his fellow warrior, and in fact, has been undefeated, his entire stay in Helovia.

Turning his gaze around, searching the skies for a smear of white, Gaucho is momentarily confused when all he can see are whispy clouds of white in the sky, but no Soh. Perhaps he has not shattered her, but has instead further encased her in her glass palace? Perhaps she belongs to someone, he begins to think, before a hisssssssssss-ing noise causes him to turn farther. Mara is touching the side of his neck, indicating that he should look that way, and as he does, he sees her.

She is an angel again, but no longer is she falling.

Her smile causes an awkward, boyish grin to appear on his dark muzzle. There is something about her that he wants. Gaucho, who has never been in love before, feels only the primal stirrings deep within his belly, when he looks at her. Should she be flattered? Well, that's debatable, although at least she can be confident in knowing that his desires and perceptions of her, are likely truer than any who have looked upon her before. For such a simple creature, Gaucho is unburdened by procedure, and custom, and hesitation. She is like some shiny bauble that he wants for his own, if only to look at and study.

His wings gracefully bring him lower to the ground, angling him towards the naturally occurring lake. The thermals have warmed his body, causing deep splotches of sweat to darken his shiny coat. Crashing-landing into the water, as if meaning to run on it before entering, the bay fully submerged himself, causing Mara to flail away on the surface of the water, sending him nasty mental images, as she found a rock to sun herself on. Shaking water from his eyes, the brute cast his steely gaze around for Soh.

Water coats the bone piercing his nose, as well as the strange sun-like marking around his eye. Even so, the pale golden paint does not fade or drip down and mix with the dark mahogany hairs. It remains striking and strange, even as his grey-blue eyes shut to try and prevent any more water from entering them. But then her wings are not the only source of expulsion - as her legs also begin to flail, even more water is sent towards the large bay brute. Though she likely cannot see it through the spray of liquid, Gaucho is grinning like a madman. It might seem odd that the primitive creature is enjoying this - but is not the instinct to play, one born in each foal? Do they not all romp about, bombarding each other with touches as they explore the world? Although Gaucho is no small foal, and even after weathering 7 winters, still he has not lost the child-like love of play.

As Soh dips beneath the surface, Gaucho takes the opportunity to move forward, but slowly, for he is unsure of where her white body is beneath the waves that they have caused. Gaucho's chiseled chest is pressed forward, as he arches his neck in the unmistakable way that stallions do. A lustful squeal escapes his lips, as his blue-gray gaze searches for the angel hidden beneath the water. As she emerges, Gaucho spreads his black wings up and out of the water - holding them so that only the bottom feathers are the water, while the rest arch out and around - once again creating a cave for just the two of them. Although his wings are blocking out the sun, a shine of want is still visible in the shades of blues and grays that make up his stoic gaze. As the water that she forced upon him beads off of him, it causes his luxuriously long mane to cling to the contours of his jaw, accenting the handsome lines of his face. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, greedily taking in her watery scent. His ears were perked forward, and his appearance would indicate that he was focused on one thing, and one thing alone.

Her

The angel, fallen from the skies.

Unlike the cave he had created with his wings in the sky, Gaucho did not lower his appendages, nor did back up. Even in the water, the size difference between them was obvious, and from the back it was likely that his considerable backside and wings would easily block out any view of the white mare. He lowered his muzzle slightly, and yet it still remained a few inches above hers. "Soh" He said, his tone clear and rich, although it was unclear if he was beginning a proposition, or merely saying the shortened version of her name. His gaze moved from her eyes, to the contours of her face, and then to her chest. With a tantalizing slowness, and a surprising amount of diligence for such a seemingly slow creature, his eyes finally returned to hers. "Soh" He repeated again, although this time his voice was softer; huskier.

Gaucho's enjoyment of his desire for the white mare was happily unburdened by any sort of social constraints that others in his position may have been burdened by. Was she taken? What would the consequences be? What of their future? Nor was he burdened by any sort of issues of confidence - of whether he could perform should the time come, or whether she found him attractive. Gaucho was a primitively handsome creature, and had a rough understanding of this. Even so, he was in tune with the subtle movements of her body, which revealed her attitude towards him. He watched as her lashes fluttered with what may have been associated with nervousness, yet Gaucho was not fooled. The way their bodies seemed drawn together, as if by an invisible force - the way the lapping of the water against her shoulders was almost a disappointment, for it was not the right sort of touch. It was not his touch.

As her muzzle drew near, Gaucho did something that may seem slightly surprising, given his rather primal nature: he was gentle. But don't be so surprised - even a creature who relies so heavily on instinct, has learned a thing or two about women over the years. As the whiskers from his dark nose neared her, he paused with a forced slowness, as if wanting to savor every instant of their embrace. His husky, woody scent blew against her, as he breathed hers in, as if greedily drinking some sweet wine. To press his muzzle firmly against hers, he didn't just extend his nose, but rather took a step forward, forcing him to arch his neck to keep his muzzle at her height, while bringing his body closer. As he pressed his muzzle firmly against hers, a soft sigh - an almost thoughtful one - escaped his dark lips.

Taking another step closer, now the distance between them no longer allowed Gaucho to keep his muzzle against hers, no matter how much he arched his muscular neck. Instead, he brought his nose to her left side, tracing it down the contours of her neck. The bone which pierced his nose, was smooth as it glided down her neck, investigating each and every inch of her immaculate white canvas. His breath, slow at first, because faster and warmer as he greedily drank in her in. As he pressed closer, so that their chests almost touched, his wings wrapped around her lithe frame even more, touching her ever so softly as they further sheltered her from view. Hungrily his inquiring muzzle stretched until he had reached her wither, nipping her with a tantalizing gentleness, as an impatient squeal sounded from him.

There was always at least one open wound on the warriors body at all times, and today was no exception. A cut on his hock, shallow, but open none the less, was a gateway to the magic that constantly churned within him. From his antlers, a silvery mist was emitted. It floated together over her back and within the confines of Gaucho's wing-cavern, moving around her right shoulder to nearer her face. The mist seemed to condense for a moment, before bursting to take the shape of a hoard of fireflies, flickering with a silvery-blue sheen as they danced before Sohalia. Their light cast shadows upon the two bodies - so different, and yet so close together.

[Just like in real life, it's always the girl's call how far this goes...xD]