Our family crest. The young stallion stiffens, his interest immediately piqued. His dam had mentioned relatives - she is the daughter of the DemonKing, a prolific breeder, and therefore has more siblings than she cared to recall to the nosy ears of her children. Deep down, Volterra had suspected, wondered, from his first meeting with the black unicorn and the subsequent God battles...The lingering sense of familiarity, those red eyes, the lust, the fighting prowess. All traits from a man Volterra has never met, but has heard such infamous words about, a man he is proud to be descended from. "You know." It is a statement more than a question. Clearly Öde does know they're related, else he wouldn't have said our. "I suspected, and my dam told me a little of her side of the family...so our crest is a wolf, hm? Fitting." A fierce, powerful animal, like those spawned from Oblivion's bloodline.

Of course, that hadn't stopped the beast from helping to slay the wolf in cold blood. Affinity to the creature or not, his survival and the protection of Helovia always came first.

His relative - and oh, it is strange and oddly pleasurable to think of him as that! - states that they should probably return to the Flats just on the off chance of a battle. "You are probably right. It would be a shame to miss out on another chance to slay a God." Jaws slip into an easy smile, a smile blessedly free of black ooze. Mid-meal, the other male idly mentions dying, and coming alive again, like he's remarking on the weather. The beast's eyes narrow, suspicious and intrigued. "You...died? Well, you're looking good, considering." Despite his sarcasm, the black behemoth is genuinely interested in his cousin's words. To be able to rise from the dead...to be immortal...He flicks his eyes up and down the unicorn, as though he can detect the other man's blessed gift with the force of his sight.

How's your dragon? The titan swells joyously at mention of his companion. "Growing well and strong. He spends much of his time hunting, perfecting his killing ability." The red has always had an affinity for blood - like his name - but it seems to have intensified as they have grown as a pair. The following question, about his mother, bids the colt's thick neck to arch downwards, ears flopping slightly in dejection. "Several months back, she was stolen into the Dragon's Throat herd. My sister and I have therefore had to spend most of our yearling months fending for ourselves. She recently escaped the herd's clutches, but has told me of her desire to leave Helovia for good, in order to rule alongside my father in the wilderness." No longer is he a weanling boy, dependant on his dam's milk and reassurance. He is almost a man grown - and yet he is still entitled to miss her, isn't he? She has been a solid feature in his life, and now she will be gone for good. Happy, out in the wilderness, ruling, owning. Perhaps more children will come, more half-siblings that neither Volterra nor Nymeria will ever meet.

He shakes his heavy head. "Tell me of your family, Öde. Our common ancestor...did you ever meet him?"