The God's sigh provides all the confirmation he needs that his request cannot be met. "I understand. It was a foolish thought." There has to be some barrier between this world and the next, some finality to death, else there is no reason for every living creature to fear it. There has to be some element of threat and mystery to what happens after, else he and thousands of others wouldn't fight tooth and nail to avoid it.

He decides to believe that his son is at peace, safe amongst the stars. He casts a glance upwards, as though he can see the boy's face in the murky heavens, before feeling suddenly self-conscious and looking swiftly back to the Earth God. As much as the God's quest has encouraged him to feel, he still feels raw and exposed whenever he displays a differing emotion in front of anybody. To Volterra, some emotions are private, personal, almost dirty, and grief is certainly one of them.

The deity continues. Volterra begins to feel like a child being scolded by his father, and he gives a sheepish dip of his head. He's torn between his desire to defend himself - because accidents do happen, especially to lustful young men who doesn't quite understand that actions have consequences - and his knowledge that the God is right, he should have been more careful. "You are right, of course." He could try to make excuses - he was young and foolish, he never had a father of his own to teach him how these things happen, but he doesn't. Sometimes it is better to stand tall and take responsibility, to accept the blame, take it like a man and move on.

He knows one thing - he will be more careful from now on. No more children will come in the near future if he can help it. Now his rampant hormones have dulled somewhat, his urge for women isn't so all-consuming. Perhaps he can abstain, a holy monk in the body of a stallion, repressing his desires and living in misery....no, there's little chance of that. He will try, though. That's all he can do. When he is older, when he has a herd of his own, then is the time to start building his empire of loyal offspring.

Father Earth's advice hurts. Volterra, for all his flaws, is a deeply honest man. He does not lie, and he does not deliberately withold information. There just hadn't been the right time to tell Isopia about his other conquests, and to the leviathan's simple mind, it was not an important topic to broach. It hurts him to know that he'd accidentally lied by proxy, something he's always sworn never to do and has condemned in others. He feels dirty, tainted by this inadvertent lie. But he will take the God's advice on board, as painful as it is. Humility is not one of the brute's strong points, but he displays it to the best of his ability as he nods and mumbles "thank you." It is said genuinely, and he knows he will mill over this conversation as soon as his physical injuries abate enough for him to examine his mental ones.

In the silence that follows, Volterra knows that he does not want this meeting to end yet. Winning the flower that granted him the God's company is not an opportunity that's likely to come again anytime soon, so he is determined to make the most of it. "I hope I am not taking up too much of your time," he says, hoping to portray with his tone that he wants to prolong these few stolen minutes with his much-respected Earth God for as long as he can. "I have recently joined the Dragon's Throat, which I believe is the patron herd of the Sun God, in order to help out a friend." His friends are few and far between, and Sikeax...is special amongst those select few. "However, I always imagined myself joining your herd, the Hidden Falls. This is an unforeseen change in my plans, and I do not know what to think about it. I am torn between my desire to help my friend, and my desire to follow my heart towards the place that has always held an allure for me. May I ask what you think on the matter?"

He's almost asking if the Earth God will hold it against him for joining a different herd than his own. It feels like a rather petty question, but it matters deeply to a man like Volterra, for whom the blind faith he has in the Earth God is something entirely unique and cherished within his mind. He does not respect many people, but his devotion to the colossal deity that stands before him is something he values deeply. He likes to think that the God has a tiny ounce of favour for him in return, although this is probably just an arrogant misconception born from his desire to be thought special.