He could turn into a wolf? My, that sounded...powerful. To think, the claws and teeth of a carnivore, fur and flesh and muscle and predatory instinct...ah, the black is practically drooling. A magic that is slightly less appealing is his cousin's ability to raise from the dead, despite his initial musings to the contrary. As Öde says, dying does not sound particularly pleasant, and the giant is a believer that everything has its time. Everything dies. Everything becomes meat in the end. No, there's something exquisitely enjoyable about being mortal and fallible. In battle, if one knew they couldn't die, would they fight as hard to avoid it? Without consequences, what is the point of living?

His cousin mentions the loss of his own mother, and Volterra's mind travels to Confutatis. He will miss her, most definitely, but the mantle of her legacy now rests on his and Nymeria's shoulders. It is up to them to bear her bloodlines proudly, but at least that is not a burden he has alone. Öde has it as well, as he too holds the pedigree of Gods. "The Moon Goddess...murdered your mother?" Isopia told him of the Goddess' crimes, but he hadn't thought they affected him directly. It seems she took one of his relatives, though, albeit not one he's ever met. That sits oddly with him, like a stone in his gullet.

He nods as his cousin advises him to tell Confutatis of her sister's demise, and files it away should he ever see her again. His aunt... He knows he has many paternal relatives, such as Argen, but his maternal ones have always been more closely shrouded in mystery. As the immortal one adds that he lives in the Basin and invites Volterra to stay, the beast can't help but flash a small, dark grin. "That's a kind offer, however I don't think my presence there would be welcomed. My dam and the Basin's king were not the closest of bedfellows. When I was a boy, she tried to steal from him. In return, he challenged her and took her armour." A memory that rests hard in the front of his mind. Besides, his dam had told him that her kind were not welcomed in the Basin, with their naked foreheads. The snow and ice of the north holds a certain allure to him, but it is sadly not one he's ever likely to be able to follow.

The behemoth's ears ram forwards with interest when Öde mentions meeting Oblivion when he dies. "Perhaps he is a spirit, a spectre of his living self. You are fortunate to have met him. What is he like?" He is interested to see if he bears any resemblance to his famed forefather.