She didn't think that it was just a roundabout pattern of cause and effect, from the Goddess to her, it seemed fairly linear. Still, she shrugged her shoulders. Volterra seemed to have the gist of it - far more than others did when she tried to have this conversation anyways. Her dark nose subtly nodded at his conclusion. "Yes." She echoed. "His death - and her part in it - are why I am here."

But what if you go against your fate?

The girl's lips twisted upwards in a knowing smile, as Volterra fell victim to an early philosophical trap - a deadpan way of thinking. It was natural and intuitive that he should offer such a solution, and yet the girl knew that it was nothing even close. Her quad horned head shook, gently shaking away some of the sweat-soaked mane and forelock which had temporarily bonded against her skin. "Then that would be my fate. It might feel like I am choosing - that I am disregarding what it is I know my path to be, but in actual fact that act of disobedience and anarchy would be my fate. If I disobey, then I was always going to disobey. I was meant to disobey. And if I stay the course, then that is what I was always meant to do as well. It might feel like choosing, but it isn't. "

Eagerly she waited to hear his response, and was noticeably disappointed when he said he required more time to think. The girl rarely required the luxury of time, and almost never to think. But then, she was clearly aging faster than those around her. Perhaps her mind moved faster too.

She nodded casually at his goodbye, but froze as his muzzle extended to hers. Every fibre of her wanted to lunge back, but she held firm - her mind forcing her body to remain precisely where it was. She knew that he meant nothing by the gesture - in fast, hadn't she just laid herself across him - breast against his chest and wings sprawled over his barrel - to try and rally him to aid her? But that was filled with urgency this was ... this was something else. What scared her the most was the not knowing what it was. The girl didn't have friends, but if she did, Volterra would probably be in that category if only because out of all that she had met, this was her second time sharing her time with the colt. She hadn't done that for anyone else.

His heat warmed her skin, and her nostrils flared ever so slightly pulling in his scent - especially since it was so close to take in. She felt a warm anxiety pulse through in time with the beating of her heart, but still she remained immobile; it was the best she could do.

Nodding awkwardly as he pulled away, she meant to mumble something about seeing him again, but failed. Her lips moved but no sound came out - instead she began shrinking. Her body blackened and her limbs warped until she was somewhere between raven and hybrid - flapping her wings to achieve life as her body continued to shrink. Taking to the skies, her mind continued to rally - not on how rude her departure had been - but on everything else. His answers and his actions. It seemed so much more important.