His ears begin to ring. Numbness spreads through his body, paralyzing his face into open-eyed nothingness. His heart ceases its hammering and drops its rate so much that the stallion would assume it had stopped altogether if it wasn't for the fact that he's still alive, still breathing. Still conscious, still able to stand here and digest those two words that have just cut through him like a knife, those two words that hurt more than any blow he's ever taken.

"You....don't." He repeats it tonelessly, as though doing so will lessen the impact that her words have had on him. Saying that it is like a kick to the gut is too simple, too mild to adequately describe what he's feeling. Comparing this sensation to a kick is like comparing a light drizzle of rain to a raging tempest, one that annihilates everything in its path and leaves nothing but raw, exposed flesh behind it. It's abject pain, it's sorrow that sinks through the skin and enters the marrow beneath. It's disbelief, desperation, dismay, disgust, devastation. Betrayal.

Those are all emotions that he's not accustomed to feeling. Emotions that he's afraid of, that he doesn't know how to cope with, how to survive. So he takes the coward's way out and does what he always does - he channels all these unwanted feelings into something that he can control, that he can survive, that doesn't allow him to focus on the fact that his heart inside his chest is slowly breaking in two.

Anger.

Vérzés knows what's coming, feels the first ebbings of fury pass from Volterra's mind into his. He squawks, flings himself from the Indomitable's back and flies towards Hubris, landing on the branch beside the bronze and trying to nestle closely against the larger dragon, seeking comfort in him and trying to offer it, too.

"You forgot me." Still the mammoth man's voice is listless, monotone, seemingly devoid of emotion, but suddenly his eyes are glowing with molten flame, his ears ramming backwards and his muscles hulking as though about to strike. Attacking with his body, however, is not his intention. "How....how could you? How could you get rid of everything we've been through? Did I mean that little to you that you'd rather erase me than deal with everything you felt?" There's a voice in his head that calls him a hypocrite, because isn't he doing precisely the same by hiding his hurt behind a wall of anger? No, he tells himself. The two are worlds apart.

Now he's off, there's no stopping him. There is no part of him that contemplates the stupidity of shouting at a massive dragon, no part of him that considers the consequences. This rage is born of something new, something so damn agonising that it puts all his other seemingly mundane temper tantrums to shame and which utterly removes any sense of self-preservation. He'd never considered before that the different emotions he channels into anger make different levels of rage - that this betrayal makes a fury far more acute, far more intense, than anything created by a less important emotion like humiliation. This is like a white fire caused by oxyacetylene, a thousand times hotter than the usual flames roused by wood or coal; this is so much more intense, because it's created by something so much more painful.

"Was it just me who thought we were worth more than that? Am I the only one stupid enough to cherish what we have far more than anything else in my life? Is it just me who would do anything to keep these memories, the good and the bad, rather than go out of my way to remove them?" There's an ache in his chest now. Maybe he's having a heart attack; imagine dying in front of her! Maybe, though, it's just the physical manifestation of heartbreak. "It hurts, Isopia. Grief hurts. Loss hurts. Heartbreak hurts. But you can't just run from it. You can't keep hiding from it. Without the bad, the good is worthless. If you remove the bad, you don't fucking deserve the good."

He doesn't think to notice that this is the first time he's ever used her real name. The first time he's ever used that piece of information, that close-held secret that she never told him. He'd never imagined that the first time he said her name, it would be as part of a tirade like this. "What does it say about us if you'd sooner remove all memory of me than face your feelings? What was the point of it all if you just run away at the first bump in the road?" His eyes flash and he desperately wrestles with his muscles to try and stop himself from striking, from attacking as his body tells him to do. Despite everything, he'll never hurt her - even though this is not her, this is some empty husk of a woman who wears her face.

The giant snorts, a gesture of disgust, of agony. He needs to walk away, to leave before this escalates further. There's nothing to be gained from continuing to rant and rave, one man against the crushing darkness. "I knew you were a lot of things, but I never thought you were a coward." The words slip out, unbidden, a last riposte before the end of this fight, this war of words.

He growls deep in his throat and begins to turn, each muscle quivering, wrestling against the odd burning behind his eyes. There's time for one last blow, one final twist of the sword, something spiteful, something to try and lessen the pain in himself by giving it to her.

"Go to hell, Isopia."

It's not said angrily, more...despairingly. He doesn't mean it, beneath the veil of righteous anger he's wearing. Maybe he'll regret this later when the eruption has faded and the volcano lies dormant again, when he's had time to think and digest the emotions she's given him. Right now, though, he's done with her. For once, it's going to be him leaving her, and with a sense of grim satisfaction, he hopes it hurts. He begins to walk away, his back tight and tense, his stride forceful and propelled by misery.

Vérzés hums low in his throat, his tail twitching anxiously. "Sorry", he mumbles to Hubris, then takes to the wing and follows the retreating figure of his bonded.