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His gaze darts across her, hoping for approval. This has to be just right, his best piece of rock-craft yet, because he will not give sloppy work to her. She deserves the best, and the best she will receive. He is so focused on his structures that he doesn't notice her gawking at him, which is both a blessing and a curse - a blessing, because it would have distracted him with all sorts of thoughts about what is she thinking?! But a curse, because getting this weird thing of theirs out into the open might have been better all around. One day, maybe. As he works with the ground, she uses her own powers to lift rocks onto her hut. Look at them, working in synch, two creatures of the earth manipulating their chosen element and bending it to their will. Volterra demands the rock's utter submission as he moulds it into what he wants it to become, his vision of perfection. His gaze darts from his structure to Isopia's work-hardened body - her blowaway mane, her sweating sides, her heaving muscles...His mouth is suddenly dry, but he blames it on thirst from his exertions. His nostrils flare, desperate to drag in a breath of warm, unadulterated mare, and her single uttered word of agreement does nothing to remove his stallion's thoughts from those places he just cannot prevent them accessing. He snaps his attention away and focuses on the half-complete hot tub. With another primal grunt of exertion - because the sound is manly and he wants to appear manly - the colt continues his task. He moulds the rock, drags it from the ground and forces it to his will, resting only when necessary. Sweat soaks his fur despite the chill in the air, and his already black body is darkened to the most starless midnight sky. He keeps his thick neck arched, ears pricked forwards, eyes focused unwaveringly on the hot tub. From a semi-circle, it becomes a full circle, chest-high and big enough for two. Two large, draft-breed horses, funnily enough. Provided they were willing to nestle fairly close, at least... With another snort, Volterra coaxes one part of the circle back downwards, to create a place through which the inside of the circle can be accessed. He releases his magic and the sap on his strength as the rock remains standing is intense. His stocky legs quiver and his intake of breath is sudden and sharp, but he stays standing tall, swinging his heavy head towards Isopia. "Want to try adding water? Let's pray to the Gods it doesn't soak right through." That would be deeply annoying. He's done his best to plug the cracks with rock, but there's no saying that the water will stay in its stone prison. @[Isopia] MY FATHER CONQUERED SEAS BUT WAS NOT THERE FOR ME |
[ 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 ]
