Volterra is not a creature accustomed to feeling many things. Whether it is because he is a man or because he's too primitive to understand more complex emotions, the Indomitable isn't used to the sheer volume of feels that have assaulted him recently.

There's his familiar friend anger at what occurred in the herd in recent days, the coup that ousted Sikeax from her throne and placed Aithniel in her stead. There's relief that at least Volterra held up his part of the bargain by defeating Tae, albeit in a far shorter fight than he'd expected. There's an undertone of curiosity about what the future may hold under the reign of the Inquisitor, and there's a distinct thrumming of guilt at the idea he might want to stick around and find out when he'd always planned to leave should Sikeax ever step down from leadership.

But, just to complicate things further, he's got a confusing cacophony of emotions about the Sea Soul's unwillingness to fight to keep her throne. Volterra values battle prowess more than anything, and he is guilty of judging people based on how they fight. Had Sikeax fought and lost then the leviathan would have understood, because at least she'd have tried. Except she didn't. One hit by the Inquisitor and she was down, and that makes Volterra ache with the knowledge that he's disappointed in her for her failure. She is his friend, a good mother to his children, but she did not fight to keep her herd. That's something the behemoth simply cannot compute.

In truth, he'd placed the champagne mare upon a pedestal, and had assumed that she could do anything she set her mind to. She mothered a child that was essentially forced upon her and she did it with aplomb - just for good measure, she mothered the other children whose own dams failed to do so. She became Sultana despite a lack of experience, and she'd shown all the signs of being damned good at it.

Until it all went tits up.

The goliath sighs sadly. He doesn't know what to think, what to do, except to lurk around the herd and try and get his head together. It isn't until Vérzés gives a euphoric screech at the sight of Hobgoblin that Volterra realises he may have to decide sooner rather than later. Perhaps speaking to Sikeax in person will help him get his head around what happened. Perhaps it will help him make sense of the whirling soup of Confusing Feels that currently live inside his mind.

He approaches at a fluid trot, but his neck is held awkwardly as a memento of the fight with Tae. The filly's hooves had clattered right into the top of his neck near his head, and the whole area is still seized up. Moving is hard, and the stallion finds himself struggling to shift his head enough to graze. Still, he attempts to hide the pulsating pain as he slows to a halt just in front of the champagne mare, trying to keep his expression guarded and neutral as he looks at her. "Sikeax." His voice is stiffer than usual, almost offhand. He doesn't mean to be short with her, but he's so damn confused. "How are you?"

The red dragon, as though oblivious to his bonded's flight, soars towards the tree that Hobgoblin sits in, landing his scaled body next to the serval and chirping happily in his direction. Vadir is nowhere to be seen; she holds a grudge with the best of them, and her last meeting with Sikeax is still fresh in her mind.