The black's crest erects, and sensing the challenge the red draws himself up to his own impressive height. He has none of the svelteness of many dragons; like his bonded, he is all bulk. He has no feathers, no elegant frills nor delightful adornments. He is simple, functional, all pointed horns and glistening blood-scales, and his forked tail swishes side to side across Volterra's broad withers to balance him as he holds onto the lock of mane.

Stubborn, says Nymeria. The monolith's lips twitch into a smirk. "I think being stubborn is part of being a dragon." Try as he might to crush Vérzés' spirit, it never succeeds. Any dominance is met with an equal force; the dragon bows to no one. The giant's crimson gaze darts between the black's peeled lips, his sister's cocked hoof, and he wonders if all is not well between girl and dragon. His eyes narrow, fixing upon the plain. He is blessed enough to be inside Nymeria, nestled within her mind. Oh, what Volterra would give to have that privilege! To caress her senses with his touch, to invade and feel anything he wants to feel...

Vérzés gives his mane a solemn tug, jerking his thoughts away from the dark, salacious place they'd been threatening to go. As Nymeria asks his name, the ruby titan arches his neck and releases a small blast of frost from between his clenched jaws. Why does he keep doing that? "His name is Vérzés," he rumbles, lips still inclined in a smirk - he knows Nymeria will grasp the Hungarian meaning of the name. Dipping his head, the colt gestures to the black. "Can Lilómiel breathe fire yet?" he questions, heart thudding with concern at why his own red has not yet blessed the air with his heat.

Suddenly, the soft lines of his sister harden. Tense. Volterra stiffens too, sensing he's done something wrong, his ears flapping backwards as an icy snort leaves him. Mounting a corpse, she said. And what's wrong with that? "But we would be with her. Together we could get her out, and protect her while we're there. Has it crossed your mind what they may be doing to her there, sister? Verte, kínozta őt, kibaszott." Black lips peel from yellowed teeth at the very thought. The World Eater could corrode any who mounted her without her consent, he's sure of that, but what if the whole herd tried it? If they ripped her flesh with their teeth, bruised her with their hooves, crushed her and flogged her and ruined her...

He'd burn the lot of them.