[OOC | I LOVE MARA. SO MUCH. -dies- Also. Soh + Gaucho = Jane + Tarzan <33333]

I admit, I have a tendency, it would seem, to overestimate just how much Gaucho can understand. It would be almost comical, if not for the knowledge of what I must somehow explain to him. And, of course, I am not one to laugh at another's misfortune, though I am loathe to call it that. Perhaps he is more fortunate than the rest of us, to be exempt from the ponderous conversation of day-to-day life for one such as myself. I ruefully find myself thinking that perhaps I should simply stop talking, and then I would not find myself bothered by those who continuously seem to need something from me. Of course, I would think that I would get lonely if I had no one to talk to. But then, if he had never known what it was like to speak and to understand, then he cannot possibly miss it.

I shake my head to clear such mundane, circular thoughts from my mind just as Gaucho expresses his confusion. "Oh," I say, realizing my mistake. "Yes, I..." He must think that he needs to make himself clearer, for he continues to speak, his voice much louder (in fact, it almost hurts my ears, he is so close and so loud). His head shoots down, and I pull my own cranium back, startled by his proximity, and then watch in dismay as he attempts to present me with the wilted rose, only to drop it from his terrifying height. "Oh," I gasp, wincing at the impact. The petal that detached from the flower reveals a brighter center, and I quickly forget my alarm as I wonder if the entire inside is just as brilliantly colored.

His snake - I don't know her name, for we haven't exactly done much talking, Gaucho and I, and clearly this is for good reason - seems exasperated, and although I appreciate her efforts, I have to resist the urge to shy away from her as she takes the flower from her bonded and offers it much more delicately. Still, she has made no move to harm me, nor do I think Gaucho would allow her to, so I stay still as her tail approaches. And then I am met with a new dilemma: how do I take the rose and still leave my mouth free to speak? A sudden idea springs to mind, a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I have been aching to test my new magic, and I want to preserve this rose against further wear and tear. And so it begins.

I take the flower gently from the snake and lay it on the ground. My motions are slow, taking great care not to cause further harm to the rose. My eyes close briefly - inhale, exhale - and then open. I concentrate on the flower. Ever so slowly, a light sheen begins to grow around the base of the flower, almost looking like a morning's dew. As it grows, it solidifies, leaving a layer of crystal behind. The many facets of the clear stone begin to catch the light, throwing rainbow hues against all three of us, though they are clearest on my ivory pelt. Within moments, the deed is done; the flower is safely encased and preserved behind a glassy layer of rock. I even included a small clasp for the chain that I will make momentarily.

It is easy to find metal when one knows where to look, and so without further ado, I reach with my god-given magic into the earth, searching. It does not take long to find what I am looking for, and though I could not give a name to the metal, I pull it forth from the earth with a certain grace. It melds easily into a long chain, and I slip one end through the clasp on the flower before forging the chain into one long piece. With a satisfied smile, I slide my nose through the loops, then pull my head up, tossing my head until the necklace settles, the rose against my chest. "Thank you," I say, my words extending both to Gaucho for the thought, and to the serpent for her assistance.

I stretch my neck out to bump my muzzle against his, and as I grow closer I inhale his familiar scent. It is nice to relax in the presence of he who had mended my tattered soul, if only for a moment. But all moments must end, and so it does. "I -" Do not know how to begin, how to make him understand. Perhaps speaking as I would to any other will continue to prove fruitless. Perhaps I should address him as he does me. Turning slightly, I extend the wing closest to him upward and out of the way; then, gesturing to my slightly rounded belly, I say, "Foal." A pause, and then, hesitantly. "Yours."

"talk talk talk"

Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight