.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
He cannot help a small spike of disappointment as she politely rejects his offer - she, too, is devilishly attractive and he would take great pride in educating her, herd politics be damned - but he keeps such emotions from his face, simply continuing to smile suavely at her. "A lover, not a fighter?" he questions with a suggestive darkening of his intense red eyes. "I understand the allure of battle is not for anybody, but...I encourage you to try it, at least once. There is nothing like the sweet satisfaction of flesh on flesh, the ache of muscles hardened by war, the thrill of victory, of utter dominion over another creature. It is a drug, an addiction. You don't know what you're missing." His voice is passionate, driven by his love of the battlefield. After all, he is a warlord, one of the best to ever grace Helovian soil. He adores his art, and takes pride in it. She offers to help him, and his filthy mind immediately darts in a particularly southern direction as it ponders all the ways she could...help him. Volterra does not believe in healing battle wounds - as he always says, a fight is a pact, and part of that pact includes carrying all his wounds through to the bitter end, no matter how painful. He quickly realises that her offer to help will involve healing, not the other type of healing that he was hoping for, and he quickly moves to try and prevent it. "Oh, no, it is quite alright - " But she is plucking herbs from her mane and describing them to him, and despite himself he decides to listen. It may come in useful - he might not intend to heal himself, but he may face a scenario where he must heal another. At the moment he would be just as likely to place a stinging nettle on an open wound as he would be to put something that will actually heal it. Volterra's brain frantically digests the information, knowing that it will be useful to feed back to his healers so they may ensure the herd's stocks are up to date. "You know a lot about this," he rumbles, admiration shining through in the thunderous baritone of his voice. He would hazard a guess that Tiamat is as accomplished with healing as Volterra is at fighting, and whilst he'd always previously scorned the healing arts as pointless and futile, he finds himself realising that it is not as easy as he had once thought. She moistens her mixture then applies it to the wound. With great effort, the behemoth refuses to flinch even as the application smarts against the thick cut, focusing instead on the fact that she's touching him and that does all kinds of things to his apple-addled brain. "Thank you," comes the response when she's finished, and he turns to admire the salved wound. He might prefer not to accept such treatments normally, but as a one off, it is an interesting experiment. "Are you the Basin's chief healer, then?" They'd met when Hotaru brought her to the ill-fated alliance meeting, but Volterra does not know she has since been promoted to leader. HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE |
@Tiamat SAME LMAO
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
