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A broken man, a broken man. He moves away from her, away from the shattered memories of their union, away from the blackened pieces of his heart that she's left crushed on the floor. From euphoria to misery in the space of one meeting - his memories of their bedding are tainted by the agonising thought of the careless way in which she'd thrown his feelings back in his face, left him agape and aghast in her wake. And he still doesn't know why. Why had his kis hollo - although he must try not to think of that name, now she's shunned it - turned against him so quickly? Had he not satisfied her properly that day in the Fields? Had she expected more? Or is it something else, something his useless, stupid brain simply cannot understand? For all his strength, his power, Volterra is oblivious to the subtle nuances of others. He must have missed something - oh, he wishes he had the wit, the raw intelligence, of his sister! His sister. Her memory draws a pained smile to his face, a face with hardened, pained lines and dark, dark misery. Their last meeting had not been straightforward, either. Like with Isopia, he'd somehow managed to offend Nymeria without intending to. He seems to have quite the skill for it, for turning the ones he When he scents his twin, he feels nothing. He is numb. Even his loins do not flare at her heady aroma, and that's a sure sign that he isn't himself. The goliath's dragons are staying away. Since the incident with Isopia, his temper has been more frayed than usual, his anger more violent. As the woe from Volterra's mind radiates into their own, the friction between them grows; gold scales collide with red over and over again, as they take out their confusion and frustration on each other. He demands that they leave him be - he is not in the mood for their squabbling. Thus, he is alone when he strides towards Nymeria. She is in the Rotunda - one of their favourite childhood haunts. He does not smile at the memory. He simply moves, muscles bunched and rippling beneath his blackened flesh, jaw tight and eyes as hard as rubies. He halts, looking at her through an emotionless face. For the beast, it is unusual for him to be showing nothing at all - he's usually so animated. But today, it's like he's dead inside. Maybe he is. "Sister." His voice is a guttural snarl, the only evidence of the anger that quakes within. Not at her - how could he be angry at her? - but at the fucking world. HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE |
@Nymeria
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
