Like last time, the titan returns to the scene of the wolf battle; not just to revel in another glorious fight, but to see if the cure for the black nostril ooze lies here. He doubts it - the Blood Falls had not cleared the boils, after all. Only possession by Rikyn had managed that, and the giant is struggling to come up with any possible cures for this particular disease. Still, he finds himself marauding around the maze of trees and bushes, following the scents that his new enhanced sense of smell allows him to detect. Using just his nose, he can find his way back to the reek of rotting flesh that is so potent it makes his eyes sting.

He is surprised to see his relative staggering amongst the shattered carcasses of the mini-wolves. The young stallion hadn't seen Öde's death during the fight; if he had, he would undoubtedly have tried to aid him. His last memory of the unicorn, therefore, is that highly explicit sight of Öde's excitement during the bear battle, an excitement that Volterra can fully understand now manhood grips him like a curse. The smallest hint of a smirk darts across his face at the memory, but it is quickly smothered as the sound of his lips peeling from his teeth causes a grating in his overly-sensitive ears. Nothing can get him accustomed to the acuteness of his senses, courtesy of the Labyrinth disease. He smells like a snake and hears like a bat, but he would happily hand those quirks back from whence they came if it would rid him of the accursed black essence that hangs from all his facial orifices. His dragon is off hunting again, but Volterra does not need his bonded's sharp eyes and wings now he is so plagued with sounds and smells.

The mammoth yearling draws to a halt and fixes Öde with his penetrating red gaze. The stallion does not look well. In fact, he looks like death - if only Volterra knew the irony of that thought. "Öde?" The titan's masculine rumble sounds like thunder to his ears, which he carefully folds backwards to try and smother the racket. He flicks his eyeline lazily across the older man, elevating one sculped brow as he does so. "You look like shit." Not that the colt himself looks much better, with black ooze pouring from his eyes like bloody tears, and from his nose and mouth in rivulets.

His smirk widens. Look at them, two branches of the DemonKing's progeny, diseased but deadly. Öde begins to eat, and Volterra idly looks around at the scattered wolf carcasses for something to entertain himself with whilst the older stallion finishes his meal. Out of puerile, morbid curiosity, he reaches for his magic to summon a plateau of earth beneath the nearest wolf corpse, to try and lift it to eye level where he can scrutinise it closely. He delves into the little nub of magic that glows within his brain, demanding that the earth lifts and moulds to his will...

But nothing happens.

Concerned, the beast tries again. Still nothing happens. He growls, frustrated. Has the disease sapped his magical powers as well? Before he can ponder further, the unicorn is speaking, asking how the rest of the fight went. "The wolf was destroyed. It crumbled into dozens of miniature versions of itself, but they were soon disposed of as well." He snorts his pleasure at the memory, and feels black ooze spatter from his nostrils. Ugh. "Another land was discovered not long afterwards, not too far away from the Labyrinth. It's a flat expanse of reflective sand, with not a tree in sight. There was no fight, either." He's hardpressed to keep the disappointment out of his voice. It might be juvenile of him to enjoy the God fights so much, but the sheer rush of satisfaction when another Rift beast crumbles into dust is...indescribably good. A release, like nothing he's yet experienced.

You're one to talk. The mammoth winces, suddenly self-conscious at the hideous drools of black tar that hang from his face. "Tell me about it. If it's not boils, it's this fucking disease." His ears pin and one massive hoof slams into the ground, creating shockwaves that make his sensitive hearing ache. He had only stumbled across the boil cure out of pure good luck - the cure for this particular brand of nastiness could be anything. "How the hell did you manage to escape it?" Öde'd been there at the wolf fight too, right? Shit knows how he managed to escape his own dose of black ooze.

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?"

He could turn into a wolf? My, that sounded...powerful. To think, the claws and teeth of a carnivore, fur and flesh and muscle and predatory instinct...ah, the black is practically drooling. A magic that is slightly less appealing is his cousin's ability to raise from the dead, despite his initial musings to the contrary. As Öde says, dying does not sound particularly pleasant, and the giant is a believer that everything has its time. Everything dies. Everything becomes meat in the end. No, there's something exquisitely enjoyable about being mortal and fallible. In battle, if one knew they couldn't die, would they fight as hard to avoid it? Without consequences, what is the point of living?

His cousin mentions the loss of his own mother, and Volterra's mind travels to Confutatis. He will miss her, most definitely, but the mantle of her legacy now rests on his and Nymeria's shoulders. It is up to them to bear her bloodlines proudly, but at least that is not a burden he has alone. Öde has it as well, as he too holds the pedigree of Gods. "The Moon Goddess...murdered your mother?" Isopia told him of the Goddess' crimes, but he hadn't thought they affected him directly. It seems she took one of his relatives, though, albeit not one he's ever met. That sits oddly with him, like a stone in his gullet.

He nods as his cousin advises him to tell Confutatis of her sister's demise, and files it away should he ever see her again. His aunt... He knows he has many paternal relatives, such as Argen, but his maternal ones have always been more closely shrouded in mystery. As the immortal one adds that he lives in the Basin and invites Volterra to stay, the beast can't help but flash a small, dark grin. "That's a kind offer, however I don't think my presence there would be welcomed. My dam and the Basin's king were not the closest of bedfellows. When I was a boy, she tried to steal from him. In return, he challenged her and took her armour." A memory that rests hard in the front of his mind. Besides, his dam had told him that her kind were not welcomed in the Basin, with their naked foreheads. The snow and ice of the north holds a certain allure to him, but it is sadly not one he's ever likely to be able to follow.

The behemoth's ears ram forwards with interest when Öde mentions meeting Oblivion when he dies. "Perhaps he is a spirit, a spectre of his living self. You are fortunate to have met him. What is he like?" He is interested to see if he bears any resemblance to his famed forefather.