It takes all of his control not to move closer to her, to resist all instincts and stay away. Worried that she may feel shy in his presence - his suspicious seemingly vindicated by the way she nestles into her wings like shrouds - he turns away so his eyes aren't boring into her, even though it kills him to do so. She needs privacy, that he appreciates....not that it stops him sneaking into the eyes of his dragons so he can still watch, albeit in the odd curves and shades of dragon-vision.

Finally he can resist no longer, and turns as a foal slides from beneath her tail onto the sand. It is a colt, and the beast's heart soars; before he can utter his joy, though, the mare's sides are rippling again. Vadir tilts her head, hums deep into her bonded's mind - "a clutch," she purrs. Soon there's another little body next to the first, this one a girl, a daughter. One of each - it's far more perfect than even Volterra could have thought, and there's no stopping the radiant smile that lights up every hard line and scar upon his face. His name upon her lips only makes the smile spread wider until it beams out of his eyes as well, even his posture showing his joy.

Isopia stands, and there's no stopping him from going to her now - he seeks to touch his muzzle to hers, a soft and gentle nuzzle that will hopefully portray all the things he can't put into words. Then, he looks to the children. "May I?" It's unlike the Indomitable to ask for permission, but again he knows from experience not to touch a mare's newborns without asking her first. There's a vague memory in the back of his mind of his own birth, when his father was so bold as to caress his progeny without the World Eater's permission; her rebuke had been fearsome, and Volterra does not want to sully the twins' first moments on earth with the sight of their mother aiming a bite at their father.

The foals, though....they are stunning. Courtesy of Isopia's tribrid blood, they possess both wings and horns, and he'd hazard a guess that they've got equine genes too. The colt has his face marking, the girl a beautiful leaf between her eyes. In short, they are perfection wrapped in damp fur, and the stallion feels that bizarre, delightful quirk of love that blossoms in his chest. Unusually, though, they don't seem inclined to stand up, and Volterra's smile shifts into a concerned frown as he looks down at the colt. On the boy's right shoulder there's a strange marking, almost as though his skin is ripped to display livid fire underneath....he's reminded of his lava-golems, and his frown deepens even more when something that looks like magma begins to ooze from the marking. "Ah, kis hollo, our son seems to be...leaking?" That isn't something he's ever experienced before.