He hears voices, and a strangled groan leaves him. God dammit, he's not in the mood to entertain! He just wants to struggle away at his knife until he makes it work, because Volterra does not give up until his task is either complete or he's broken it in the process. His dragon abandons the stone and rises high on his leathery wings, sending his bonded an image of a pegasus mare and a young filly, along with a soaring falcon. With a considerable amount of hope, the red asks the giant colt if the bird is edible, but Volterra keeps him in check with a sharp stab of his mind - best not to let his dragon eat other people's companions, not yet anyway.

The trio comes closer, and with a resigned sigh Volterra drops the knife to the ground. He'll come back to it later and hope it is willing to co-operate this time. "I'm Volterra," he says by way of introduction, his voice a rough, earthy rumble that contains untold power and authority. At her question, the titan flashes the antler a filthy look before glancing back to Parelia. "I'm trying to fit the stone into it to make a knife, but the damned thing won't stay together." His irritation is evident in the sharp backwards slant of his ears and the harsh curve of his neck, a sure sign a temper tantrum is just around the corner. He is a hot-tempered young man, after all, all new testosterone and volcanic rage, and his inability to make a simple knife has pissed him right off.

The mare's daughter wobbles towards him, all spindly legs and flailing wings, and despite his dark mood the colt has to smother a chuckle. He remembers when he was that age, full of questions and endless curiosity...and with a healthy fascination with dragons. As a result, he can sympathise with the filly as she stares at the red. Vérzés - filled with all the arrogance and vanity of his draconic kind - drops from the sky to land upon his bonded's heavyset withers, bulking his gleaming red scales up and preening beneath the girl's gaze. He's a little attention whore, after all, and Volterra snorts. Mist rises from his nostrils and drifts away, dragged apart by the wind.

The beastling looks down at the filly, content to humour her. "His name is Vérzés, and he is a dragon. They are powerful, proud creatures, strong too." Alas, the girl's pegasus blood means she'll never get to bond with one, and will undoubtedly have to settle for a lesser companion, like his dam's kitsune. Mongrel is interesting enough, but he has no scales or scorching breath.