The filly who approaches is familiar; the porcelain girl he'd 'rescued' from drowning. He knows she was badly injured during the God fights, and almost feels morally obliged to ask about her wellbeing. Almost. They are not friends, but nor are they enemies. She is just a girl, and yet Volterra cannot summon the words to his lips, not when his sister's plight is so much closer to his blackened heart.

Her words are the peaceful, naiive musings of youth, and the stallion snorts. There is never enough bloodshed. There will always be fighting, from the mightiest war to the tiniest misunderstanding. What this particular situation is remains to be seen. Do you know what's going on? There's no anger in the stallion when he answers her question - nor does he look at her. His eyes remain riveted on the battle, if indeed there is to be a battle. "The young mare is my sister. The pale one is our aunt. Let's just say it's a little bit of a clusterfuck - and you can ask your mother what that means." There's no venom in his voice, and he doesn't realise he may hit a nerve with mention of her mother. He means no harm to her - he just doesn't have it in him, not when his heart is being wrenched in two by his sister's own damn stupidity.

His massive head lifts slightly as another approaches, this one unfamiliar. It is a mare, a beautiful buckskin creation that, under normal circumstances, would set the black behemoth's heart to racing and balls to pulsing. And, indeed, he has enough left to cast a greedy glance across her, drinking in every delicious curve, but there's no real energy behind his perfunctory observation of her body. This is what his twin does to him; removes all but the most basic of emotions, renders him broken whilst in her thrall. He only has eyes for her, for what is going to happen next. And, when Nymeria speaks, Volterra damn near chokes on his own tongue. She wants Ophelia's attention?

What the hell is she up to? There's far easier ways to get somebody's attention.

He frowns, creasing his sharp features into harsh lines. "Get her attention? Is a simple 'hello' too much damn effort?" His words are a harsh mutter, audible to only those in his immediate vicinity. At that moment, another stallion arrives; he's large, powerfully-built, winged and antlered. Volterra recognises him from past battles, and - shit - as the man who took their mother. His ears flatten momentarily, but then he remembers his dam telling her how she cunningly escaped his wrath, and his features quickly straighten back out. Mother won. Or so the giant thinks. He can't know that his dam, silver-tongued snake, fooled her son with her tales of derring-do. That the harsh reality was that she was released out of either mercy or boredom - that she did not outwit him, simply bided her time until her capture no longer served a purpose.

No, the beast knows none of this. And there is little time to dwell, as his attention continues to linger on the family feud between Nymeria and Ophelia. How will his aunt react?