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you will remember me for centuries
It almost makes him wish that he had somebody he hated, to plot and plan against, someone whose downfall would pollute his dreams and steal his waking thoughts. It would give him a purpose, to lend a reality to his training, an ambition, a goal.
But nobody has yet made the fatal mistake of pissing him off.
He scans the unicorn's face for a reaction to his words about the Basin, hunting for any little telltale glimmer of racism, of misguided hatred. He finds nothing; this pleases him. For all his eagerness to get himself an enemy, he isn't fool enough to make one without good reason. As Erebos doesn't appear to loathe him based on his naked forehead, he has no danger of falling into that category. When the eager young stallion invites him with him to the Basin, Volterra's eyebrows almost raise past his ears. That is a sweet sentiment, but for all Erebos knows, he could be a murderous spy just waiting for a free ticket into the snowy north, so he can slip his blade between the ribs of the king and queen. He feels he should point this out, and, indeed, he normally would - tact and Volterra are no bedfellows. Yet what little tact he does possess knows that throwing somebody's hospitality back in their face is a pointless way of creating resentment where none yet exists, and there is little need for that.
But now for the acid test, the true discovery of what Erebos does and doesn't know about his king - Volterra, of course, is blissfully unaware that he is speaking to the Basin's princeling, son of the Reaper himself. The unicorn's reaction to his following words will tell Volterra whether Erebos is a man who carries the indoctrination of his elders upon his young shoulders, or if he sheds that weight in favour of open-mindedness, of making his own decisions. If, indeed, they are doomed to be enemies based on crimes that aren't their own, or if they can ever become something akin to friends. "That may not be the wisest idea. You see, ah, the Basin's king and my mother have a....history." He dribbles this tiniest trickle of honeyed information towards Erebos' ears, tantalising, just begging to be picked up on and questioned.
@Erebos
[ 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 ]
