Their touch burns, and the colt hungers to slam his chest against her own and press his strength against her in the night. His warmth against the cold, his protection against any and every threat she may ever face, his weight on her as he takes what should be his and nobody else's, ever - no, not that, never that.

Another snort leaves him and he flicks his gaze to his dragon instead of his sibling. With a resigned sigh, the red takes to the wing and lands heavily on Volterra's broad shoulders, taking a lock of mane in his jaws and tugging it whenever the monolith's thoughts wander down this errant path, just as he'd done when Isopia was the object of his teenage desires. He doesn't understand these unfamiliar needs that are so closely associated with men, not boys. They, more than anything else, even his hardened muscles and growing frame, convince him that he is a child no longer. At least his feelings towards the Earth God's daughter were understandable, natural even. To feel something similar geared towards the girl he'd shared a womb with...he should burn where he stands for his sins, for inciting the Gods' ire.

He doesn't notice her studying him, because he's too busy doing the same to her. She has more of their mother in her - he takes after their father with his bulk and his white-dipped forelegs, his skull-like blaze and limbs that are marginally less feathered than his sire's the only proof of his dam's influence. Nymeria, meanwhile, is the perfect blend of both parents; the strength of their father, the curves and womanly attraction of their mother. Volterra is sure any stallion who claps eyes on her will want her, and the thought fills him with such bubbling rage that his scarlet eyes flash. She is mine.

He follows her gaze towards her black. "How is he doing?" he questions, gesturing with his nose to the plain. He's always been fond of his sister's bonded, despite the fact he still bears the scars on his nose from the dragon's teeth - he has no idea his sister has had to crush unwanted things out of her companion. His own relationship with Vérzés varies from day to day. He, too, sometimes has to dominate the unruly red, to bend the dragon's contained strength to his will and ensure he uses it in the correct ways. He pushes his bonded to ensure he trains as hard as Volterra does, as hard as their mother would want them to.

And waiting for mother. He shifts awkwardly, hooves pressing into chilled sand as he paws the ground. As the brother, as the man of the family, he should have taken responsibility for getting Confutatis back. Instead he left her to rot in order to focus on his training and strengthen himself enough so he can get her back - but by now, it may be too late. "There is another option," he rumbles, fixing his bloody gaze on her. "We could go to her. Go to the herd she's been taken to and offer to join with her. Protect her." Not that their esteemed mother needs protecting, but as her children they should.

Else she burns them both to ash the second she escapes her chains.