He wants to make her a present.

The thought simply happens, an explosion in his mind. It seems so obvious that he wonders why he hasn't thought of it sooner. Ever since their last meeting, he hasn't been able to shake the thought of her, of them, of the delights that their last encounter had held. She is his drug, his addiction, and instead of chasing her around Helovia like a lost puppy, he decides to try and do something romantic for her, in an attempt to show her quite how much she means to him. There is a lot he cannot offer her - monogamy, a traditional relationship - but in the absence of those, he must find other things to demonstrate the feelings that he seems unable to articulate aloud. A present. She'll love it!

He decides he wants to make it in her secret clearing in the Falls. The place symbolises so much - it was where he first realised quite how attracted he was to her, where the first frissons of something shot through his head and loins alike. She shared it with him and him alone, and he thinks - or, rather, hopes - that placing his present there will be appreciated by her.

The only problem is, he can't find the damn clearing again.

He wanders for hours around the Falls' borders, always careful not to trespass - he might be assured of his prowess on the battlefield, but he doesn't fancy himself against a full herd of angry Fall-ians. He desperately tries to follow the path she'd led him down last time, but he'd been so entranced by her amazing ass that he hadn't paid much attention. He meanders through the trees and obscure rabbit-paths until his flesh bleeds from thorns and frustration boils across his sweating skin, and he breaks a sapling in half when he flings an ill-tempered hind hoof at it.

Well, fuck that. Instead, he decides he'll make his present on the Falls' borders, so she will walk past it whenever she returns home, and so every other member of her herd will envy her for her super-romantic, great-in-bed special friend. He uses the phrase special friend, as he isn't quite sure what else to call them - does sleeping together make them a thing? He doesn't know how to be a thing. One-night-stands, emotionless animal sex, yes. An actual living, breathing mate? He doesn't know where to start. Plus, would the demi-goddess be content with the fact she'd be part of a harem, rather than a sole lover? These are all things that should probably have been discussed prior to the act, yet they are simple beasts prone to being caught up in the moment. Rather than think about those tricky questions, the goliath simply decides to call her his special friend until told otherwise.

The sky is darkening above him by the time he finds a suitable spot, just outside the borders of the Hidden Falls. He decides to build his present next to a massive old oak, in the hope that the ancient tree will keep the worst of the elements away from his creation.

Now, what to make? A creature like Volterra, usually embroiled in blood and shadows, is not accustomed to making things for beauty.

First, he uses his structure magic to bend the earth into all sorts of shapes. Tables, spikes, small hills - alas, earthen spires don't scream romance, do they? He hums, deep in thought, and instead beckons his second and lesser-known magic, which he'd only discovered in a recent fight. The ground quakes and erupts into a knee-high golem, shaped like a small horse. It lifts its stone head, looking around with its eyes of molten fire whilst more veins of lava ripple through various parts of its body - the golems are neither sentient nor intelligent, and it stomps around stupidly whilst he tries to work out how to make it stay still. It's not going to be a very good gift if it keeps walking off, is it? Nor do they tend to last very long, and he wants his present to be something Isopia can cherish for months and years to come.

So he asks Vérzés to use his frost breath to turn the little stone horse into an ice sculpture - it's winter, so the ice hopefully won't melt too quickly, and he can worry about an alternative gift in the spring. The red dragon - with an air of a parent humouring his slightly retarded child - directs a torrent of frigid breath onto the golem, momentarily freezing it solid.

But the fire inside the golem melts the ice, and the whole thing crumbles into damp dust.

The brute swears, loudly. His dragons trill their amusement - Vadir looks at him pityingly from her perch in the old oak tree, whilst Vérzés tries to offer some form of masculine sympathy.

He tries again. Another small horse-golem bursts into life, trotting dumbly around Volterra's feathered feet. He sends Vérzés off to fetch water from the nearest source, hoping that this will kill the fire inside the stone creature and stop it moving around. Alas, as his dragon drops a mouthful of liquid onto it, the little horse's fiery veins simply sizzle it away.

With mounting frustration, Volterra kicks the golem so hard it snaps into three. "Why can this not be simple?" It is as though the Gods are conspiring against him to prevent him creating something for the earth-girl. Perhaps Father Earth himself is chuckling away in the heavens, watching little peasant Volterra's futile attempts to woo his daughter.

He decides to try one final thing. He summons a third small horse golem - trying to ignore the toll on his strength - and makes Vérzés hold it still. Using his muzzle, he daubs thick layers of damp mud onto the golem, careful to avoid touching the fiery parts. Once he has covered the whole golem in mud, he gets the red dragon to freeze the coating, turning it rock-hard. Then he applies another layer, Vérzés freezes it. Rinse, repeat. After a couple of rounds, Volterra sends a stab of his mind into the golem beneath the mud, crumbling it to dust. To his delight, the frozen-mud husk remains - a hollow, horse-shaped structure, fragile but long-lasting.

Using Vérzés' dextrous claws, he etches markings onto this little mud horse. He draws lines on both the forelegs, to represent his white leg markings, then draws a skull onto the face. Volterra stands back to admire this knee-high mud version of himself for a moment, feeling pride ebb through his system.

But there is no time to rest. Another small golem bursts into life, this one with crude wings and tiny horns. This one is placed beside the first, then receives the same mud and frost treatment until it is covered in a solid shell. Sweat lathers the stallion's neck and quarters, illuminated by the full moon, by the time he's crumbled the golem inside this muddy husk. He hobbles backwards, exhausted, aching, and fixes tired eyes on his handiwork.

He has created them. A little hard-mud Volterra and a little hard-mud Isopia, stood beside each other beneath the shade of the ancient oak tree. Their markings are as accurate as his dragon's claws can make them, and although they make be crude, they are hopefully enough to show what each horse is supposed to be.

For his coup de grace, the beast plucks up the single red rose he'd found during his stumbles around the Falls. He places this between the two mud horses, and weighs it down with a pebble.

He wants her to discover this on her own, so has every intention of wandering off now his present is complete. But he's so tired, and it can't hurt to just rest for a moment....That is how he comes to be dozing beneath the oak, next to his little pair of effigys.