The earthen girl watches the warm orange ripples of colour drain from Volterra's chest, to be replaced with cooler yellow hues. He is not blue - not like the frigid chill of the ocean. Even as heat drains from his body, he remains warm.
We are not born warmongers
Inside something in Isopia blooms; she knows that in this, he is wrong. Something about the chance to correct his world view is enticing - especially on the heels of his comment about her age. "We are born who we are. You might think life is an open book, but it is not. Just as it was fixed from the moment of copulation, that you should look like this-" Selfishly she allowed her gaze to roam the yellow-orange battlefield of his body to emphasize her point. "- so too is your destiny. An acorn seed, nestled in the earth, might think that that all doors of life are open. But they aren't. It is destined to grow into an oak. The only thing under it's control is the caliber of its growth. A strong oak, or a sickly one."
Her large, golden, sludge filled eyes appraised him for a moment as he looked towards blue-yellow grasses, billowing in the winds.
"Our paths are fixed. Only how we walk them is under our control." She concluded, gently shaking her quad horned skull no in response to his offer to graze. Hunger was an appetite that she stifled, just like so many other involuntary bodily responses. She would eat when she decided, not when her body did.
Fanning her mismatched wings, the demi-god's gaze lingered for a moment - as if contemplating whether to say more. In truth, she was wondering if she should say goodbye, and if so, should she follow it up with see you later? Did she even want to make such an invitation? What if he accepted? What if he didn't? And so, as enough time passed as to render anything she said next completely awkward, she merely mentally shrugged and took to the air.
{weeeee <33333}
ISOPIA
IN REALITY'S SHADOW THE BLIND SEE BEST
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