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Water. A boat trip needs water. The only problem about that is the searing Tallsun heat - Volterra has forgotten the last time he took a long, cold draught of cold water. Everywhere in Helovia it is lukewarm and filled with dead flies, hardly appetizing. As a result, the beastling has decided to use his brain, and has chosen instead to come to the land of snow and ice. There is less here than there was when he came here last, the snow spread out to patches here and there, but there is enough for what Volterra intends. Snow is cold, as he found out to his detriment last time he was here. When it melts it will surely remain cold, or so his logic suggests. It will hopefully last longer as well, and who knows how long they will be aboard the boat? He holds the bucket between his jaws, Vérzés riding on his favoured nook between the titan's broad shoulders. The flesh of his withers is already hardened by the scars from the red's claws, and he wears the lacerations with pride. Today he intends to use the crimson war-dragon for more menial ends, as he drops the bucket on its side and signals with his mind for Vérzés to swoop down and hold it in place. Through their mental bond he can feel the blood-dragon's displeasure at being used for something that doesn't involve cutting into things, but he is of an age where he is still quite obedient, and obligingly drops down to secure the bucket. Volterra begins to use his nose to scoop snow into the bucket, the cold on his nose rather pleasant against the heat on his back. "" |
@[Nymeria]
[ 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 ]
