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you will remember me for centuries
Behind him, his crimson dragon caresses the air with flared wings to propel him after his bonded, serpentine tail thrashing behind him to guide his movements. Through their linked minds, Volterra can tell the ruby beast is exhausted, his muscles screaming for release as much as Volterra's are - Vérzés is still only a couple of weeks old, a baby, yet the black behemoth trains him as hard as Confutatis trains Volterra himself. Weakness will not be tolerated, and Vérzés knows it as much as his bonded does. He does not ask to stop, does not allow his pace to slow even as his wings beg for mercy and his lungs burn with his rapid inhalations of the bitter sea air. Colt and dragon run together, hard and fast, both exhausted and throbbing with agony but both fuelled by their own steely determination.
To make their task even harder, the howling wind blows against them, spattering their faces with sand and exerting their muscles even further with the effort of running against a force of nature. Rain and hail lash against them, the soaking sand sucking Volterra's heavy hooves into the ground and pulling on the firm muscles of his legs. But this is what he has been doing since he was a mere boy of a few days old; training, so he can become the living, breathing vision of perfection his parents are so keen to mould. He will be strong, and so will the dragon that has melded his mind to that of the obsidian warmonger.
Finally he allows himself to slow, first to a high-legged trot and then down to a plodding walk. His sides heave, flanks and thighs drenched with sweat despite the relative coolness of the day. Vérzés descends, landing gratefully upon the giant colt's scarred withers, his tongue lolling from his tooth-lined jaws as he, too, fights to cool down. "Good work," says the boy to his dragon, who ruffles his scales and coos. Mother will be proud. He looks down the beach, preparing to run right back up it again - the way back should be easier with the wind blowing behind him, yet his jelly-like legs threaten to collapse under him, so he decides to rest slightly first.
[ 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 ]
