The silence of the forest is calming and familiar, the solitude and peace it offers are welcome to my weary mind. Mother has come down hard, cracking the whip and demanding intense physical exertion to make sure I remain in perfect condition. She is relentless in her training, making me perform difficult and strenuous tasks to improve my stamina, strength and agility— the breaks I take are short and rare, lungs aching constantly as they struggle for air. She does not know that I am overworked and tired, that every night the fatigue consumes me and my body cries out in the morning— my muscles are tense and tight, constantly in a state of soreness as I wander the forest.

Today Mother simply isn't here, speaking of business she must attend to, but she still expects my coat to shimmer with sweat upon her return (damn). She disappears into the darkness of the gnarled branches and swooping pines, bindled body out of sight and mind for the better half of a day (thank you). But there are other plans for me other than relaxation and a moment to breathe, as is signified by the call of an all too familiar idiot— a particularly dim stallion who tries to bond with his too many children, yet seemingly cannot. My ears draw back and bubblegum wanders towards the source of the call, hoping that he was reaching out for someone else other than me. Bubblegum meets blood red, splendid scales and aerodynamics gathering my attention as a familiar reptile summons me forward. "Fuck."

So much for a 'Me day'.

I follow Volterra's dragon through the forest, winding through the gaps in the trees and dancing over the tangled roots, ears still flat against my skull as I get closer to Volterra. I can almost smell the overcompensating masculinity that oozes from his skin and the testosterone he seems to have a constant overflow of (seriously when will it stop)— it's another few strides before the big black mass comes into view, the titan towering over another familiar youth (Tyrath), accompanied by a flickering gold body and another familiar companion (Hobgoblin). My eyes reach to Goblin before anyone else, gazing at the Sikeax's companion and questioning whether it was solely Goblin or if she would come trailing after anytime soon (or maybe she's already here?)— my eyes scan the surroundings for signs of hesitant blue or a dash of amber champagne, finding solely disappointment. Damn.

With subtly furrowed brows I direct my attention to Volterra, listening to the title Tyrath addresses Volterra with— the same one Zhu used, the title his children have deemed him. But not I, for the word that comes to mind is no title of respect or worship. There is nothing grand or magnificent about it as it rolls off my tongue almost silently, slipping away into the rustling leaves and chirping birds as soon as it leaves my mouth. "Féleszű." It's spoken as I approach, whispered to no one but myself as I confidently stride towards my brother and Volterra (gotta keep up appearances).

"So what now, Volterra? Are you trying to get us all together to announce that you caught something nasty during one of your encounters?" A black brow rises, unphased expression rooted to macabre features as I look up at the brute and await his response. It certainly wouldn't be a surprise to have him catch some kind of disease with all the women he beds, really I should be expecting that announcement any day now. "And if this isn't really that important, I definitely have better things to do. So unless you're here to tell us that you've finally realized that all this sex is gonna bite you in the ass, so you're slowing down or stopping altogether— or that you've found Sabre— I really don't care." The words are harsh, cold and unforgiving as I look away carelessly, because fuck this. I didn't come out here for some petty play time with Father of the Year, Volterra— fuck that.

My eyes settle on Tyrath, a grin cracking subtly across my lips as I look at my younger brother. "It's been a while, you've certainly grown." His horns have grown more, the wings larger and body thicker, he is certainly Volterra's son. He too will grow to be taller than me. I'm the unlucky child who was born cursed to be short, stout and thick but powerful in the way I could kick a rock and blow a hole clean through someone's skull (who wants to try it out?). "Sorry I can't check up on you or Astarot, the Throat isn't exactly the most accessible place in the world for someone like me. But I'm always here in the deep forest if you ever need me." Trying to make up for lost time, (who does that remind me of?) I try to explain my absence in my brothers' lives— as someone who lacked wings or magic to get me across the gap to the Throat, I was inevitably stuck on the other side, watching them all grow up without me and waiting for the day they'd seek me out. If it ever comes.

It may seem strange or out of character, but I do care about my brothers and sister— who knows who else will (except perhaps Sikeax, maybe), with untrustworthy or non existent mothers and a slacking father, someone has to care. And I do, I want to make sure they all hit the ground running and make it through the turmoil of childhood, the damnation of living as a bastard son (or daughter) in a world where parents are supposed to teach you all you need to know. I can't be absent the way Volterra has been, I can't disappear the way Zhu and Sabre have done, can't mistreat them or ignore them the way their mothers do— I have to take on the responsible role of big brother, (because that's who I am whether I like it or not) and be there for them.