She doesn't seem willing to reveal whether or not her poop can, in fact, explode. Being the boy he is, he decides to believe that it can. Starry-eyed expression lavishes its attention on her rear end, as though expecting her to deposit a grenade for his amusement. He has to resist the urge to wander behind and lift up her tail to have a gander at the source of the bomb-making. At this age, the colt has no regard for physical boundaries, and wants to either poke, lick, bite or kick anything that holds his interest, for better or for worse. His morbid fascination with anything different pushes him to, sometimes literally, stick his nose in everywhere he possibly can.

He can't deny the pride he feels at the reaction his dam's magic seems to evoke in her. It does make him wonder, though, why he hadn't inherited his mother's magic in the same way he had inherited her skull marking and his father's white forelegs. Imagine if he had the corrosive saliva that Confutatis is infamous for! Think how many people he could impress if he could melt flesh with a simple kiss! But no, he is doomed to be useless and unenviable, only able to brag about the abilities of his mother rather than himself. One day, kids will go all awestruck at the idea of my magic, when I get it, he decides, silently vowing to get something special so he doesn't have to live off his parents' glories. "You could come and see her, see for yourself!" It doesn't occur to him that inviting a friend home for dinner could be a lot more literal than he might like when it comes to his vampiric mother, nor does it phase him that she probably wouldn't be best pleased about him inviting a random-ass filly to come and see her.

Surprise etches itself across his delicate features as she rants about her twin. Wait, she hates her twin? How is that even possible? "I love my sister, she's the best. I just wish I had some special stuff like she does, 'cos I feel like a loser." Cue violins! "At least you got your asplodey magic, and a horn. I got nothing." Woe, misery! He is the only one of his family without anything special, though. His mother has her magic and her Mongrel, his father has his dragon, Nymeria has her everything. In the raffle that is life, Volterra certainly hadn't bought the best ticket. But, as Shida thinks, at least he's tall. Maybe he'll grow big and powerful enough to kick the ass of anybody who mocks him for being boring.

Her whispered question makes him ponder for a moment. He doesn't remember his Ma taking anything from him, but his first few days are pretty blurry. "I don't think she did - I mean, I don't have any ouchies, and I think someone taking your horn would give you ouchies, right?" Now it's his turn to step closer in an attempt to oggle at the base of her horn, where it joins to the flesh of her forehead. Yep, ripping that off would hurt. "My Ma and Pa don't have horns, either. Or wings. Only birds have wings." He has not yet had the pleasure of meeting a pegasus, after all. "What's your name?" He's tempted to just call her Kabloomy from now on, because as names go that's a pretty fitting one.