He debates leaving - truthfully these shrines rather creep him out, and he could be better spending his time elsewhere. He is so engrossed in deciding what to do next that he doesn't notice the hybrid flying above, and only Vérzés' sudden savage hissing alerts the leviathan colt to the presence of the other. He looks up, following his dragon's eyeline, watching as the pegasus circles lower. His words cause the colt's eyebrow to raise in suspicious confusion. "Why would he be made of dirt?" he questions, and the ruby dragon releases another disgusted hiss as he scrambles up Volterra's head to peer between his ears.

A sudden rumble and a thud causes the black behemoth to jump, startled; he swings around towards the noise so fast Vérzés tumbles loosely off his neck and only catches himself on his flared wings at the last moment. Nearby, a rock shudders and cracks, rumbles and groans. A man breaks free from the stony prison, a giant of a stallion who dwarfs anybody Volterra has ever met. He has the horns of a ram and wings, and emenates an aura of power unlike anything the titanic colt has ever seen. There's also something familiar about him, something the monolith can't put his finger on - little does he know he's meeting the esteemed sire of one of his only friends, Isopia, and therefore a God.

"G-good day," says the colt, an uncharacteristic stutter forcing its way into his usual composed and stern baritone voice. Vérzés circles once, twice, then folds his wings and lands heavily on Volterra's thick flanks, his arrowlike head peering curiously at the strange stallion. Unbidden, the colt feels a sudden desire to send tendrils of magic into the soil and display his earthen abilities, because something about this massive male makes him think of soil and dirt, earthquakes and landslides. "Who are you?" It doesn't even cross the beastling's mind that he's in the presence of a deity.

Casually the youth seems taken back by my exclamation, he mildly inquires as to WHY this creature would be made of dirt. A reasonable question.

Why?

Ha! Yes, Camon; do tell us.

WHY would it be made of dirt? (Amazing how a logical mind can play off its own set of sarcastic remarks.)

Apparently it wasn't miraculous or ridiculous that his pet IS alive; but it WAS ridiculous that it COULD be made of dirt?

At what point would all this impossibleness stop being a surprise? Would I eventually end up desensitized? (Man...my heart could use less weekly anxiety.) The native folk on this cursed continent seem to go about their peculiar, morphed livelihoods. All this was beginning to make me wonder...what WAS considered normal for them??? From behind these amber, dappled buttocks my muscled tail flicks from its frozen agitated state. It curves into an impressive arch, like a pretend snake fixing to coil and strike. The silken tendrils drag across the fevered stones beneath these toes.

Both perky ears flick back worriedly as that bat creature hisses like the lizard that it was; a throaty rasp that sounds like a primal warning, without much force it encourages me to take a subconscious step in reverse. Truthfully, I'm enjoying these mutated spawns less and less. For arguments sake I can certainly see that said beast wasn't made of mud. Faintly a noticing eye can make out the tiniest hint of fang peeking between those scaly lips; and those seemingly useful wings upon its back, aren't fashioned from water.

Before further arguments can be broached...

A previously harmless boulder starts to quiver and shake violently; three sets of eyes flit to it, alarmed. When the first stoneflake falls to gently clatter below, this heart takes a bold jump into the narrow opening of my larynx. I'm not alone. Both the boy and his bat wing creature was also shaken, he (or she)...springs for heaven -- strongly flapping its thin canopy to achieve lift. Both of my feathered limbs are splayed wide apart, arched, and all four rooted limbs tremble as if at any moment they would also spring upward. The youth remains just as surprised as me, though I'm to busy rolling up my jaw from the ground to see that his eyes had briefly mirrored my own. But obviously the boy is more accustomed to surprise and unnatural occurrence, because he rapidly recovers and inquires what I've been briefly starting to wonder. Just hadn't gotten around to asking yet. I blink, half hoping/expecting the rock horse to vanish. Nope

My expression is already set for disbelief, it manages to express this further. Saucer style eyes widden. A beast breaks free from said rock, or rather, materializes from said rock. Maybe both. Stone became man, a large one. Perhaps the tallest/widest I've ever seen -- these disk spools slowly travel up the length of one feathered pastern, forearm, chest and finally to a set of gems that match my own iris color. He greets the littlelings (us) with a gentle smile; the like of which I'd never witnessed before now. His whole manner is weathered, fatherly -- but the muscular line of that chiseled jaw forebodes strength and confidence.

Both gems fix themselves on the swirling torrent that remains close around me. The mountain man had asked why we'd come; of course I had no earthly idea what the other milk drinker was doing here. "Uh..." that uncharacteristic sound is all I've managed to produce in the span of time we've been standing here, but it was better than nothing, right? "This..." I start, before shaken nerves seal my lips together tightly and my awestruck stare steals up for this giant. Now, even these ivory pinions are fearfully quivering -- they aren't so tired anymore.

The crimson dragon gains a smug satisfaction from Camon's reaction, and when he settles back onto Volterra's withers it is with an ego much larger than previously. Fear, curiosity, wariness...any of these emotions exhibited towards Vérzés give the red great levels of morbid pleasure, and his scales seem to inflate away from his body to make him seem even bigger. With a final hungry look at the hybrid, he nestles down between his bonded's shoulders, forepaws tucked neatly and catlike beneath his broad chest.

To Volterra, the other stallion has faded into a blur in the distance - he's fully focused on the ram-horned, winged titan. Strength and warmth come from the man, a strange concoction; surely he should be using his size to bring fear, not reassurance? At least, Volterra would do that if he was as big as this - maybe one day he will be, because so far his yearling size indicates he will grow into a giant. Not a horned, winged giant, alas. The stallion introduces himself, and the beastling's jaw drops similar to how it used to when he was a green boy learning about dragons - he is older now, wiser, too dignified to blast questions at the hybrid, yet his curiosity is still piqued. He wants to ask how the stallion knows his name, but gathers it is due to omniscience. God of the Earth. He remembers a quote from Isopia at his dragon's hatching; offspring of Kahlua and God of the Earth. "You're raven-girl's sire?" Suddenly he can see the resemblance - the size (Isopia is annoyingly big for a filly), the way they exude the power of the earth, the hybridness. He still doesn't know Isopia's name, but hopes the God will know who he's talking about - being able to shift into a raven can't be the most common of gifts.

He wonders if this God has used his deitific powers to watch his daughter kill his creatures alongside Volterra. Maybe this was the man who gave him his earth magic to aid Isopia in her holy crusade against fire. Maybe he and his girl see a kinship in the beastling, as after all Volterra is named after the earth, as is tradition in his family. Terra. Earth. Earth-names, earth-magic. Maybe he has watched the earthy colt grow, develop a bond with the raven-filly and get himself a dragon, like his sire, grandsire and great-grandsire before him - or maybe the giant stallion has better things to do than watch irrelevant little boys go about their business. "It's, uh, nice to meet you," he rumbles, crimson gaze fixed on the hybrid. The God addresses Camon, and Volterra watches the exchange with intrigue.

OOC: OH OH could Earthy maybe give Vol the Earth Amulet he got for his 75 posts? I've been trying to think of a cool way for him to get it, and a gift from the Earth God would be a pretty awesome way and would give him a god to respect :D

Fact: the more I interact with these locals, (these helovians) the more peculiar their world becomes. Our giant companion announces himself as, a god. An earth lord. One suspicious brow hooks past my fear as a flicker of disapproval stirs in my gut. It was very bold of this mammoth beast to lay claim on such a title. Sure the creature did appear to be at the pinnacle of physical power (and considering he just broke out of a rock...'magical' power as well); but are those talents considered holy? Is he so esteemed that it rendered him a god? There seemed to be many individuals in this land who bore unique (frightening abilities) did it make them ALL godlike?

Perhaps his talents are simply stronger than most; these people have grown to fear him and as a result a godly title was produced. My mouth itches with a sudden desire to question this self proclaimed deity, "Huh..." Was all that managed to slip past my walls of hesitation. Gems slip lower, to the alters (what remains of them) which stand like broken tomestones around his heavy feathering. The other one, Volterra, (as the deity had said) -- seems to recognize him as the father of someone he knew.

Their use of names isn't familiar. I lean back mistrustfully, the rolling weight of these shoulders settle this carcass into the stone, the solidness is familiar enough to also successfully still both trembling pinions. Though my heart is still drumming like a hammer, it skips a beat faster when those brilliant orbs look my way. He asks about the charmed necklace and its wind bubble that I've been living with for closing in on a month or so...

"No," it was then that I come to realize my jaw is hung agape, again. The muscles working that section of flesh jerk to shut it rapidly. My crown pitches up to carry these wary mirrors high, climbing to meet his gentle stare with uncertainty, "S-someone told me...that...," why couldn't the words just frucking form!? SPIT IT OUT. With measured haste and a corrected quiver those vocals vibrate a finish, "To come here for help." It wouldn't matter if he was or wasn't an astral creature -- if earth could make this bubble vanish...

So he is Isopia's father. That at least explains why she's so big. Then the giant addresses him, hands him a gift from beneath his wings, and suddenly the colt is a wet-furred newborn again, watching with awestruck eyes as his imposing sire passes him an amulet. Delight makes the young monolith's ruby gaze glow, and he gently takes the amulet and hands it to his dragon, who tucks it neatly in the yearling's mane next to the one filled with his mother's magic. "Thank you, it is a fine gift and I will use it wisely." He inclines his head, a rare show of respect towards the massive god. It seems Volterra has finally found somebody to worship, a stallion who he both respects and admires, a substitute for an absent father. To hear a God verify his earth-bound lineage makes his already bubbling arrogance grow further, and he puffs himself up to his full and impressive height as he feels the new amulet jangle warmly against his neck.

A gift from a God.

The deity's attention turns to Camon then, and Volterra watches as the older man is given a quest. The hybrid is ordered to collect several items and fill an amulet with a certain type of magic, which will certainly be no mean feat. Part of the greedy young colt itches to ask for a quest of his own, perhaps a way to strengthen his existing magic, but he resists - the God has already blessed him once, best not to push his luck. Not today, anyway. He flicks his gaze to Camon to see how the stallion will react - so far the other seems rather perturbed by the magic that lingers around the Earth God, and his surprise that Vérzés isn't made of stone points to an inexperience around dragonkind. His uncertainty is understandable, the colt supposes. Volterra himself had been born here and thus had grown up with Helovia's magical properties, however he hazards a guess that Camon is relatively new to the land. He makes up his mind to ask, but decides to wait until the two are finished conversing.

OOC: <3 Earthy!

Instead of answering me right away, Earth turns to the bat whisperer and gives him a sparkling prize. A necklace with a brilliant forest emerald set as the heart. This antlered crown angles toward the gesture, (his generosity) with slight curiosity and before it could be stopped there was a moment of stirring jealousy. Shiny shiny shiny. But those fleeting emotions are smothered when Volterra accepts the gift like a newborn suckling milk greedily from his mother's tit. I frown as he straightens, pfft...full of hot air. Somehow pointlessly adding inches on a dwarfed body in the presence of this mountain sized individual.

His moment in the spotlight fades. Those two (three if the bat was counted) turn to me and my vortex. Heat blossoms across each cheek and this flesh stiffens uncertainly -- yet there is strength enough to meet those gentle eyes that turn to meet mine. Both brows furrow when he chuckles, a glowering remark flies across my frontal lobe, "Was there something funny about my face?" Maybe there was. As subconsciously as blinking I do a swift mental check to make sure my jaw is still locked in the position I'd left it in a moment ago.

Earth assures me there's something he can do to help. (At a reasonable price of course.) Average items that will (maybe) make my whirly whirl stop. Rocks, sand. Both of those things are common, and certainly manageable -- I didn't take long to wonder the details just yet. Rocks and sand...seem easy enough to procure. Too simple. For half a second there was a hope, then...Earth mentions something about magic, Time magic he calls it. I frown, and feel somewhat fooled. Was this a joke? These eyes jump to the plain gilden chain procured from beneath that heavy plumage. Nope.

Well...I've come this far. Call it compliance, or acceptance. Slowly, this trembling muzzle extends to take the slender metal from his feather. The slight feel of it hanging loosely between my jaw is unsettlingly -- it was a vessel. Empty, harmless. I tried to imagine it filled and fail. With the care of a mother, this crown bends round to my left wing. Reaching beneath the splay of downy feather and flesh I hook it up and around one of my secondary pinions. "Ok, thanks...ummm" controlling scepticisms, "So..." a ramble of questions swell on the tip of my tongue; it settles for, "Which way is the Deep wood?"

Just like that, the God is gone, leaving only dust in his wake. Volterra stares at the place he'd been for a few seconds before allowing his gaze to drift to Camon. He's vaguely amused by the quivering wreck of a man, and his lip twists into a sardonic smirk for a flicker of a second before returning back to schooled normality.

The older male wants to know where the Deep Forest is, and whilst Volterra wouldn't be inclined to help him if he'd known what the man was thinking about him accepting the God's gift, he thankfully cannot read minds. "The Woods are that way," he rumbles, gesturing with his scarred snout towards the distant horizon. "A fair walk, I warn you in advance." The colt isn't usually a helpful soul, but he's in a good mood because of his amulet gift - he doesn't feel the need to crush other people's happiness in order to further his own today.

A wicked expression ghosts across the titanic colt's face as he begins to walk away from the shrine, casting a glance over his shoulder as if as an afterthought. "Oh, and beware of the dragons. The ones in the Forest are most certainly not made of dirt, but they are twice your size." Happy hunting! He thinks of the giant bronze - perhaps his red's sire - who had so savagely attacked the green and left flattened trees and destruction in his wake. For anybody wary around dragons, they'd be in for a delightfully horrific surprise, as even Volterra had been left awed by the sheer size of the wild ones. Vérzés punctuates his words with a draconic bellow, soaring high after his bonded.

East he says. I wait for more...but...that was it. No map? Brows automatically rise and my lips part as if to add something, but the words die prematurely when he crumbles. What had seemed solid flesh only a heartbeat before has become stone and sand. It shifts to the lava stone with a sigh. I stare at the mound until the one called, Volterra looks my way and speaks. The weight of his judgment lures these eyes to quicken up -- they narrow upon the sight of him and the bat lizard. His statement is surprisingly good natured enough to be considered helpful. But the expression written on that face seemed to hold something further and I didn't liken it to being a good Samaritan. Fair walk?

The first flick of a smile curves one side of my face halfway up. "Alright," I'll just fly -- one feathered limb opens, the primary feathers ruffle when exposed to the dry heat of this place. Volterra seems about as good at idle chatter as the one blessed to be in his presence. Those proud eyes seem callus when my man child company issues a warning on his way out. A heed of creatures that are twice my size...Dragons? The scaly creature on his back climbs into the air -- it's powerful shriek sends my ears back into the amber silk along the line of this body, it also dips the curve of my jaw apart.

They leave -- I watch them, unmoving for many moments. When certain that neither Volterra or his pet are coming back, my attention returns to the mound of fallen stone. Somehow, I still felt like those emerald eyes are watching, reflecting a wise smile. "Dragons and Time magic," soft a velvet, though it still feels like he can hear. "Quite a place." Hollowed limbs spread and my feet dash against the ground, they chase a path up into heaven. Truthfully both limbs are throbbing from travel strain -- stubbornly I ignore the pain.