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you will remember me for centuries
Taken, stolen, whisked away in the night. The titanic colt had never felt so powerless as when Mother was taken, and even now, weeks later, the memory makes him want to scream his lament to the heavens. Since she was taken, Volterra has been lost, a dog without a master. She taught him everything he knows; she forced him into training far more intense than others his age, urging his body to grow and thicken at an increased rate. She burnt hate into the young mind, twisted and moulded him, and he loves her for it.
Now she's gone.
All he has left is his precious sister, who he would defend with his life. They are almost weaned, him and his twin, so they don't miss their dam for sustenance...but for support and training, she is sorely missed. On the beastling's shoulders, the red dragon chirps his lament, because he, too, misses the venomous mare. He sends Volterra images of burning lands and ravaged trees, of spires of rock erupting beneath Confutatis' captor, but although Volterra is impulsive and arrogant, he knows he would be no match for the Throat soldiers. Trying to take Mother back by force would be a deathwish for both boy and dragon. Vérzés has grown greatly in the past few weeks, a thick hulking creature of blood and muscle who lacks any of the svelte agility of his sire's own bonded, but he cannot yet breathe fire (or frost, as he is destined to do) and would not be able to help his bonded against fully-grown adults.
So they wander, aimless, across blue-tinted rock and hewn stone that emenates power, until they see a familiar figure on the horizon. To Volterra she is familiar at least - not to Vérzés, who the colt hadn't even met then. He can't help the small smile that darts across his rugged features as he remembers their meeting, remembers his younger self bombaring her with questions. "Amaris," he greets the dragonmare, moving closer in a high-legged trot and momentarily forcing his mother to the back of his mind. He is far larger than last time they met, less fuzzy and cute, more hard lines and sharp angles. His voice is more of a rumble than a squeak, and of course he has the red dragon perched upon his shoulders who was only a distant dream last time. "Hello again." The ruby scrambles between his ears to peer curiously at the mare, fierce head tilted.
[ 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 ]
