The birth of a dragon.

The irony of this situation is not lost on the black titan. He met Isopia when his dragon hatched; now he's heading to the creation of her own companion, the birth of the most important figure in her life. That fills him with a small spasm of jealousy, as it did when his sister's black hatched, but it's fleeting, momentary. He didn't know whether the egg Isopia was given at the God fight was indeed a dragon, but Vérzés' keen senses and quivering excitement tell him it is. The red perches on the stallion's shoulders, his claws hooked into tight black flesh, his serpentine neck tilted to peer around his master's neck whilst his spikes stand erect and his crimson eyes glow with anticipation.

The pair were already on the archipelago even before Vérzés began to chirrup and show Volterra mental images of a quivering bronze egg. The monolith doesn't quite comprehend how his companion can sense the birth of another of his species, but he also appreciates that there's a lot about dragonkind that he doesn't understand, despite his obsession with them. Dragon-boy to dragon-man, yet the scaled species are a wealth of secrets, secrets even he has no right to question. So he doesn't. He simply follows the blood-dragon's instructions, and pays little heed when Vérzés boosts from his shoulders and jets through the trees without a word. One scarred brow is furrowed, but he gives no other reaction to his bonded's disappearance.

He sees her, then; the towering form of Isopia. Her egg bobs in the water, and the massive young stallion slows his bumpy trot to stand still near to her. He fixes her with his crimson-eyed stare, one corner of his lips tilting up in a grin. "Deja vu, kis hollo." He is referring, of course, to their first meeting, when his blood-red egg became the partner of his mind and soul. There's a whisper of wind and a flash of leathery wings, and Vérzés drops the carcass of a massive fish at Volterra's feet, a gift for the newborn. Then, with a glance at the pulsing egg, he is gone again - far away, this time. Why? The stallion's mental voice is questioning, despite his promise not to. He would have thought the red beast would want to witness the hatching of another of his kind, to help ease the newborn into life, but it seems not. "Hatchling must see mind-friend first, not other dragon. If hatchling see dragon first, hatchling might not want mind-friend, hatchling might want wild-freedom. This hatchling strong - this hatchling make mind-friend with earth-girl. Hatching best not see other dragon until mind-bond done."

The crimson's reply isn't quite one he was expecting. Do dragons perhaps have a form of imprinting, where they bond to the first one they see? If they saw another dragon first, would they succumb to the call of the wild rather than the call of a strange kind of captivity? After all, the leviathan has noticed that bonding is not entirely perfect for a dragon. He has met wild dragons, and bonding seems to destroy a part of their sheer majesty, their iradescent lethal beauty. It stunts their growth, tames a part of their wildness, their fierce aggression; if Volterra was a dragon, he would rather remain wild than be tied to an animal that, ironically, he would usually see as prey.

Is bonding perhaps the equivalent of gelding a dragon? Asserting dominance, removing wildness, making it into a robotic ghost of itself?

But the giant doesn't dwell on this for too long. Bonding has given him the most important creature in his life, and Vérzés doesn't seem to miss what he could have been. Even when Volterra told him of his wild mother, the red did not express sorrow for the life he could have had. Shaking his colossal head to remove such thoughts, the beast looks back to Isopia. "Are you...excited?" Can she even feel that? Is she eager to embark on this next stage of her life, or will she see the companion as a burden?

Volterra can't know of the tickle of jealousy inside her, can't know that she may have seen the red circle Mirabella during the God fight and assumed Volterra had commanded him to do so. As she'll soon find out, commanding a dragon is no mean feat. No, he knows nothing of this; as far as he is concerned, the only thing that has changed between them is that he now knows her name, and she knows he knows. Isopia. But again, as a mark of respect, he continues to use his own name for her, as though his ears never detected her father's traitorous words.

He will never find out what she's about to say. Whether she is about to confess emotion, or deny it, he will never know. Ah, dragons and their aptitude for timing. The egg begins to shake and crack as claws and scales force their way free, and the stallion watches with barely-hidden interest. The dragon may not be his, but it's still a wonder of nature. Isopia's life is about to change forever, and he is here to witness it. Despite his musings over the ethics of bonding to a dragon, he can't help but scan Isopia's face for the sign of that magical moment when the consciousness of her companion touches hers for the first time, when she realises she now shares her mind with a sentient, intelligent creature.

The dragon breaks free, splitting the shell into two neat pieces. A far cry from Volterra's red hatching, when he'd shredded his erstwhile home into a dozen shattered, jagged pieces. A sign that Isopia's dragon is more careful, more considered, perhaps? The hatching is bronze, and Volterra is reminded of his uncle Argen's Solomon, a constant figure in his earliest memories. "He is handsome," he rumbles. He doesn't need to ask if the dragon is a he, because bronzes can only be male. He often wonders what it's like to share one's mind with a companion of a differing gender. He and Vérzés are both branzenly, undeniably male, but he wonders if he would be less testosterone-y if he had a female presence floating in his mind. It would be strange, to say the least, especially if she disapproved of his sometimes objectifying thoughts towards her gender.

He glances away as the dragon and Isopia look at each other for the first time; he feels almost as though he's intruding on this most private of moments, as though it should belong to mare and bronze alike. He even takes a small step backwards to give the duo more space, shifting his looming presence away. He looks back in time to see the bronze devour the fish that Vérzés gifted him, and although the red is far away now, he sees through Volterra's eyes, and the stallion can feel his pleasure. "What will his name be?" He gives a tight smile, another reference to their very first meeting and their discussion of names. Nowadays, the beast sometimes cringes at his naming of Vérzés - bleeding, for fuck's sake, had he no originality as a child? - but the crimson dragon seems to find it rather fitting. At least, with Isopia's careful consideration of everything she does, her own companion is bound to get a fine name imbued with meaning, rather than a destructive young boy's desire to make the most gruesome name possible.

The bronze's maiden attempt at flight makes Volterra remember his boyhood, when he met a winged filly who couldn't yet fly, whose first forays into the sky had ended in a painful crash back to earth. This is similar, as those fledgling wings try to cup the air for the first time and...fail, slightly. He fights a grin, knowing that within a few hours the dragon will be probably wheeling through the air, happily inflicting misery on small furry creatures. Like foals, able to run from predators within a day of birth, dragons have an uncanny ability to be able to hunt almost as soon as they can move.

Hubris. He's surprised how quickly she reveals his name - with the onus she places on naming, he'd thought she would take a long time to think about it. Hubris. Arrogance. Pride. Conceit. Normally the beast would think it a strange name, but not from Isopia. After all, such emotions are the antithesis of what she preaches, of what he thinks of her as. They are emotions that make somebody less concerned for the balance of the world, more concerned for their own selfish ends. Volterra suffers from those emotions. In a way, he embodies those emotions. And yet, somehow, it perfectly fits the creature now tied to Isopia's mind.

This time, when the bronze tries to take to the skies, he succeeds. Volterra watches him, knowing Isopia will be on hand to help if he falls unceremoniously from the heavens. He doesn't, and he almost wishes his red were here, to soar beside Hubris and impart the wisdom of aerial prowess. At that moment, the earth-girl questions Vérzés' disappearance. The stallion flinches slightly, almost invisibly. She's noticed. Indeed, there's been a...distance between man and beast recently, ever since Volterra reached his second birthday and became a walking hormone. The perils of having a same-gender companion is that there is twice the amount of testosterone, and although Vérzés' manifests itself in murderous bloodshed rather than lust, it's equally as unhealthy. The pair argue often, sharp banter that toes the line between friendly and barbed. After all, they are both young men discovering the needs of their bodies, fuelled by hunger and a masculine desire to dominate - mind-brothers they may be, but brothers do not always get along. They've been through childhood together, now they are into the equivalent of their teenage years, all frustration and new experiences. They have lots of maturing yet to do, and with it will come a newfound closeness, as their hormones settle down and their bodies become meadows rather than battlefields.

This distance, however long it lasts, does concern the black goliath, but he also knows that it doesn't stop them being a powerful duo who would kill and die for one another. Argue they may, but at the slightest twitch of his mind, he knows the red would be by his side, and vice versa. It does them good to spend time apart. Sharing a mind, a body, everything, leaves little time for personal growth. Spending time apart means they have time to develop alone as well as together, to become strong in their own right and not rely on one another. On this occasion, though, Vérzés has taken himself away for a different reason. Well, mostly. He also prefers not to witness his mind-partner fawning over another creature that isn't him. He grows jealous of the women who capture Volterra's attention, and although he prefers Isopia to the others, he is not above such envy. He likes her, and will hopefully like Hubris too, but prefers to give her privacy with Volterra and take himself elsewhere.

"He was concerned that Hubris may not bond properly with you if another dragon was nearby when he hatched." He doesn't notice the hardening of his friend's voice - either because he's so focused on how to explain his and Vérzés' distance, or because he simply doesn't want to hear it. "You are correct, though - he leaves often. We are, ah..." How does he explain this? How does he explain lust to her? Does he want to, when she may think less of him for admitting that he has such desires? Perhaps she thinks him above such urges of the flesh, like she undoubtedly is (although he hopes not, hopes there is a part of her that wonders...), and that telling her otherwise might remind her that he is just flesh and bone, need and hunger, rage and flaws and hatred and normality. He thinks of Mirabella, and knows that the Volterra who interacted with the unicorn mare is not the same Volterra who interacts with Isopia, who stands here now talking as friends do. He doesn't think the earth-mare would like the other him, the him that allows himself to be consumed by greed and the primal sating of the flesh.

"We have both developed, myself and Vérzés, in the last few months. With that comes certain, uhm, emotions that we both...struggle to contain. Our minds are so intertwined, it becomes hard to differentiate between each of us." Meaning the blood-dragon is in danger of flying off to find a female to impregnate, and Volterra is liable to go on a sudden killing spree. "It is sometimes better if he, ah, goes elsewhere sometimes, especially during certain...situations. Otherwise, our conjoined emotions could become overpowering." He hasn't explained that brilliantly, but he hopes to all the Gods that Isopia will not question him further. He does not have delicate sensibilities, but trying to explain this to her without sounding crude...it is nearly impossible, and may taint her image of him forever. "We will both grow out of it, but at this, ahem, volatile stage, it does us good to spend time apart sometimes."

This is where it would indeed be advantageous to have a dragon's ability to share emotions and thoughts; a lot of awkwardness between the pair of behemoths could have been avoided had they been able to simply explain themselves. But, alas, that is the peril of being a mortal, ordinary creature. And, whilst he might like to think otherwise, Volterra knows he is just flesh and bone, the same as every other creature in Helovia.

Perhaps you more than him. He gives a short, sharp chortle. Indeed, his growth into manhood seems to have been a lot more violent than his companion's, and he often wonders if Vérzés is only a mirror for Volterra's lusts rather than an actual creator of his own. After all, in dragon terms, the red is still a baby - if he was wild (again, the comparisons to the wild dragons!) he would most certainly not yet be sexually mature. Is this yet another thing that being bonded to an equine has done to him? Forced his body and mind to twist and grow long before their time? If so, it's little wonder that the red prefers to take himself away when his bonded is experiencing high testosterone levels, or fly into a murderous rage when it gets too intense. He could well not yet understand what the stallion is feeling, the emotions and nefarious wants that relay into his own mind - like if Volterra as a boy of six months had been given the needs he has now. He would most certainly not have understood, and would have been confused and repulsed by what his body was telling him he wanted. Could it be that Vérzés suffers this on a daily basis?

The young stud makes up his mind to ask his companion next time they are alone together. He's fairly sure the red does have his own set of hormones, because their amorous moments do not always co-incide - Vérzés might fly off to mutilate an unsuspecting rabbit whilst Volterra is doing nothing but grazing, for example. But it is another interesting possibility, one that again makes the goliath question the ethics of bonding to a dragon.

Her question has his ears ramming forwards, partly feeling awkward that he now has to elaborate, but partly taking it as a good sign that she's asking. Perhaps she does have...curiosities, after all. "Alas, yes. It is...hard to explain." What's a polite way of explaining that suddenly growing a set of balls turns one from a calm colt into a fractious, sex-crazed stallion? "Picture yourself being hungry - hungrier than you've ever been, but you're stood in a desert devoid of plant-life. You can try and distract yourself, but sooner or later you'll remember how hungry you are. Everything else is forgotten in your quest to find food - filling your stomach is all that matters. It frays your temper and sharpens your tongue, and your loved ones will soon learn to stay away, because you turn into a bastard when you're hungry." An elaborate metaphor, yes. But that's how Volterra can best describe it. Hunger. Need. It isn't a simple curiosity or an ooh-wonder-what-that's-like, like the urge to swim or run...it's an actual physical must, like eating, drinking and sleeping.

For all the joys that being a man brings - the strength, the wild, untamed beauty - it certainly has its drawbacks, and what he's trying to explain to Isopia is the hardest part of it. No pun intended.

"That's what it's like. It's little wonder Vérzés can't stand to be around me when I'm, uh, hungry. It must be murder for him to be in my mind, let alone near me." The red, far away though he is, gives a mental nod of agreement.

She remarks that she grew quickly, and her changes were rapid. Tell me about it. How can he forget that day when they built the hot-tub, when she shifted from a raven to a fully-grown woman, a wealth of curves that had no right to have just appeared? The memory dries his mouth and hastens his heart, and he smothers it quickly. Although her body is that of a woman, are her insides still that of a girl? He finds himself wondering if she has heats, or if she's literally a growing filly in a mare's body. He compares her to his dragon - both younger than they appear, both fast-growing above and beyond what they probably should be.

She speaks again, and he flicks an ear whilst giving a small smile. "I don't know if women get as, erm, hungry as men. After all, it's always us trying to impress you to get you into bed, not the other way around." His grin turns slightly wolfish, just for a second. It's nature, isn't it? The male birds display their plumage to attract the females, the stags clash antlers to claim the hinds, and the stallions roam endlessly and crush all in their path to monopolize all the mares. Nature makes men do all the work, and the only reason that Volterra can think of is that their urges make them so desperate, they're willing to do whatever it takes to obtain the other gender.

He glances at the bronze, the lucky bastard who now has access to Isopia's deepest, darkest thoughts. "I am sure you will both educate one another in different ways. I won't lie and say it's always easy..." Perhaps the earthen filly will suffer a rough patch with Hubris like Volterra currently is with his elusive red. Perhaps they will argue like the black and his bonded do, but those dark parts only make the good parts that bit more satisfying. "But it's so worth it." They might have their arguments, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

Her confused expression quickly makes him realise that perhaps his elaborate metaphor was not the best one to use on somebody as literal as Isopia. After speaking, he bends down to take an idle nibble of a strange-looking plant that grows between the hard rocks of the Isles, but no sooner has he used his dextrous lips to pluck a few strands into his mouth, he's almost choking on it as she speaks. I don't see how hunger is like having sex. The long grass pokes him in his throat and he coughs and splutters until his eyes water, green foam beading around his jaws. Heavens, she doesn't mince her words, does she?! With her, perhaps it's better for him to say it how it is, rather than dance around the point.

Once his impromptu choking fit has somewhat subsided, the stallion can blink away the moisture in his eyes and force words into his mouth. "You really say it how it is, don't you?" There's a hint of a grin on his jaws and the smallest of twinkles in his eyes as he speaks, finding a certain admiration in her bluntness. Straight to the point, no time wasted; it makes sense. "It was my feeble attempt at a metaphor. When I say hunger, I don't mean for food. The sensation we men feel, the drive...the only way I could think of to describe it was hunger. Starvation. If you don't get that sustenance, you feel like you'll go insane." For one of Volterra's explosive temper, being in a constant state of frustration does not bode well for those around him.

She goes on to speak of the biological reasons around women being particularly choosy, and he finds himself nodding. The sheer amount of resources a mare has to put in to nurturing a foal, giving birth to it, then protecting it...little wonder she chooses only the best to sire her offspring. What use is going through all of that pain and effort, only to spawn a sickly child who does not survive to pass on her genes? It's why harems are the way to go - one stallion caring for many mares and their foals. Their gazes meet for a moment and, as ever, Volterra feels a frisson of heat in the pit of his stomach, different (and, yet, somehow similar) to the sensation he gets around other women. More intense. More refined. He wonders if Isopia sometimes looks at men and thinks them a fine example to father her children. After all, with her emphasis on balance, she surely wouldn't want to create a useless offspring.

He wonders if he would be one that she would choose. He wonders if she would choose someone else. The thought fills him with a different kind of heat - jealousy.

"Yes, from a biological standpoint, it makes sense. From a stallion's standpoint, though, it's torture." He snorts, flaring his scarred nostrils. All those hormones, and only the select few get to use them. He pictures a small, weedy, cowardly stallion - imagine being him, all that lust, but no mare would ever deign to mate with him. Poor bastard. At least the beast, with his size and the way he proudly carries himself, will be able to lure some mares to him, enough to keep him satisfied. "As I say, though, you and Hubris may have different enough desires to not go through what Vérzés and I currently are. I don't know...do women have the same lusts as men?" He says it casually, but is deeply intrigued by the answer. Asking so bluntly, shoehorning it into this conversation, seems like the only chance he will ever get to find out. After all, what are the chances of them ever discussing this again? By 'women', he really means 'you'. Mirabella proved that mares have the same curiosities as men, even if it perhaps isn't as intense. He wants to know about Isopia specifically; the earthen giant, daughter of God, bringer of balance. Part of him is concerned the answer will be no - she is asexual, dead inside, never curious, never wanting. But there's that hope, that glowing, burning prayer, that she will say yes.

Because at least that's a chance for him. A faint one, but a chance.

She questions why she would do anything else but say it how it is, and a small amused snort fights free from his nose. He has no response to her question, simply an enigmatic grin and a flick of his ears towards her second question. Why hold back? The rest of her words send a spark of heat through his chest and abdomen, because is it just him or is she advocating giving in to one's desires and sating the bubbling lust? That, from a woman, is odd to hear. In Volterra's (albeit limited) experience of the fairer gender, mares generally want their men to be loyal, monogamous. All fancy ways of saying weak, in the hellion's opinion, but nonetheless women tend to prefer it. To hear Isopia suggest otherwise...it only solidifies the reasons why he has more respect for her than any other living female, save his sister and dam.

Because she's different. She is no mewling lamb of a girl, lost in daydreams and princess fantasies of happy couples. Advocating men to be men is just another reminder of quite why the giant is so attracted to her, as both a friend and whatever the hell else he feels. If she is like him in things like this - all about the thrill, no bonds, no consequences, just the natural, beautiful act - then she really is the perfect woman.

"That is...a very good point." He can't help letting his gaze roam freely across her, contemplating satisfaction. Wondering if it would be better with her, even better than it was with Mirabella. Can it get better? That hedonistic part of him can't help but feel tingling curiosity, whilst his common sense - or what little he has of it - prevents him bombarding her with further questions or suggestions. Well. Almost. "It takes a different kind of strength to resist such temptations, however. When it's inappropriate, for whatever reason." Like when I'm around you, talking about this. Again his crimson gaze lingers, just for long enough to try and gauge her reaction before it flits to her dragon, wishing there was some way he could transfer his consciousness into the bronze in order to see inside Isopia's mind. Would he like what he saw? Maybe he can get Vérzés to try and eke some gossip from the royal at some point in the future.

His heartrate increases, unbidden, as she goes to answer his question. Disappointment quickly spasms as her answer is more generalised than he'd hoped, although the mention of rush of heat and inward swelling sounds almost like it comes from personal experience. Or is that just wishful thinking on his part? "Ours is more of an outward swelling," he can't help but say, before regretting the sheer vulgarity of the statement. Too much information? Too risque? She does not have delicate sensibilities, that much is apparent, but perhaps something so blatant will revolt her. He wouldn't entirely blame her - he sometimes forgets he's not talking to his dragon, who, for all his flaws, is at least an open ear to Volterra's filthy mouth.

Distracting, she says. "Moreso when in heat, I imagine." During that time of the year, it appears that mares become as agenda-driven as their male counterparts, as nature drives them to seek fertilisation. His words, despite their casual nature, hold a hint of a question; has she ever entered that desire-fuelled state? Or is her body, old on the outside, still as undeveloped as a filly's on the inside?