Okay. The goliath breathes steadily, and looks down to Vérzés. Be careful, Vérzés. I very much doubt the old fellow still uses that particular area, but that does not mean you should remove it. Surely there must come an age when a stallion's desire for women retreats down into the depths of his bones to be replaced by simpler, more mature hungers, such as those for food and shelter? Volterra assumes so, because it would be a fate worse than death to be old, decrepit and unable to perform, but to still have the desire to.

He suppresses a shudder, then stands back so as not to distract his dragon whilst the red works.

Vérzés moves forwards, determination oozing from his brain into his bonded's. He doesn't fully understand Volterra's reasoning behind wanting to help this random trapped stranger (besides the obvious issue of masculine pride), but as he has been commanded to help, help he will. He ducks beneath the folded leg, folding his wings close to his body so the clawed tips don't accidentally rasp the trapped man's underbelly. He takes a moment to assess the situation through sharp crimson eyes, then begins the process of unhooking the thorns from the unicorn's flesh with the long, nubile fingers of his paws.

The stallion inhales a deep breath as he watches his dragon's careful movements. He is unused to seeing Vérzés so....dextrous. The red lacks Vadir's royal refinement, her calculated precision in everything she does. Vérzés, like Volterra, is a creature of impulses and instincts, of heavy footfalls and loud, obnoxious movements - subtleties are lost on the brute and his crimson war-dragon. Volterra has seen those claws rip the heads clean from the shoulders of his prey, hook deep into the flesh of creatures as large as horses and deer - he has seen the brutality they can create, so it is quite odd for him to witness how....gentle they can be when necessary.

Several times, a thorn won't budge and the red's temper begins to flare, but Volterra calms him with soothing presses of the mind. Normally, he harnesses Vérzés' temper like a precious gem and wields it like a weapon, but now is not the time for the red to snap. Slowly, all the thorns are removed from the unicorn's underside and from the tender regions thereabouts; the dragon has tried his best to limit the pain involved, but alas, he expects there to have been some discomfort involved in the process. He ducks away, retreating back towards Volterra's colossal forelimbs and looking hopefully up at his bonded, expecting praise.

It is given in the form of a nuzzle from the beast's nose to Vérzés' gleaming scales; a rare and unusual gesture of affection. "You should be able to move now," he rumbles.