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There's the sudden sensation of claws on his withers, claws that possess a different texture to his dragon's. His sensitive ears hear the ruffling of feathers, and there's a grin ready and primed on his face as he turns to greet the raven on his back. "Kis hollo." To the surrounding horses, it probably looks like he's bonded to dragon and bird alike - they wouldn't think for a moment that he has a demi-god on his back. He huffs air at her in greeting, whilst his dragon - after getting over the initial shock of finding his favourite perch co-inhabited by a raven - gently tries to prod the bird with a clawed finger, as though puzzled by its existence. "Earth-filly is bird?" Transformation magic is a foreign notion to the red, after all. The fight that the mammoth yearling is expecting does not materalise. How disappointing. Seeming to mirror his sentiments, Isopia takes to the heavens; Volterra watches her go, before returning his gaze to the crowd. Hmmph. No bestial God for him to slaughter? No more pieces of the bastard to wear as trophies? Yes, he is rather shallow, and enjoys these God battles that have been sprouting up everywhere - he is unashamed of this, or what the Sun God may think of him for it. Still, the man is still a God, and the monolithic colt offers him the tiniest hint of a nod before turning away. He does not depart far, just in case some foul diseased beast should come bursting through the seams of the Rift, ready to be destroyed then hand out an illness as a final cruel courtesy. His tail swings against his hard flanks as he moves a short distance away, ready to leave should nothing interesting happen, but on hand to dive right back in if something interesting does happen. |
[ 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 ]
