.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far
His fit of temper is forgotten - as is his idea of revenge, because it's rude to pee in front of a girl - as the hybrid extends her nose as though to comfort him. Not one for boundaries, and being quite fond of physical contact, Volterra gleefully seeks to bump his nose against hers in greeting, nostrils flaring to give her a good sniff. She smells like girl, but not sister-girl like Nymeria, or mother-girl like Ma, or even dragon-girl like his sire's bonded - she holds the scent of a herd, but the young beast is not yet able to identify such things. He has a sudden urge to lick her like he does with everything else, but decides that's probably not the best idea. Licking people is not a good way to make friends.
"I'm okay," he says, because he is now. The pain has gone as quickly as it came, and he shoots another filthy look at the snow. Like seemingly everybody else, it must have magic to make your brain ache. "Don't try and eat this stuff, it makes your head hurt," he advises kindly. He stomps one feathered hoof down on the snow, continuing to give it the stink-eye. Bad snow. Gonna pee on you later. The strange filly snorts and smoke billows from her nostrils, just like how it billowed from the nostrils of Father's dragon. Those inquisitive red eyes of his widen, putting two and two together and getting five - she has a horn, she has wings, she has smoke in her nose. She must be a dragon, like Cynder! Maybe one that can shapeshift into a filly? "Are you a dragon?" he asks bluntly, gazing across at her with wide-eyed awe.
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
