Isopia, who was certainly no where near as skilled as Nymeria at reading another's subtle emotional states, did not notice how the mare seemed to dip inside of herself to think, didn't notice the slight twinge of potential disapproval, or the way she 'came back out' as Isopia smiled. The girl saw Nymeria, but she failed to aptly read her.

Instead, she merely waited silently, large golden eyes patiently regarding the mare.

..he will pursue our mother's goals as he was bred and raised to. "Will he?" Isopia mused, almost rhetorically. The demigoddess very much doubted that fate would be strong enough to steer Volterra back on course. He wasn't just a little ways off of the path, he was over the river and through the woods. It would take more than the subtle cunning ways of fate to draw him back. Or so she thought, shrugging to herself. 

I'm not his keeper. I think your mother would disagree, Isopia continued to muse silently to herself. It was not out of courtesy or respect for Nymeria that Isopia kept these thoughts to herself. It was not some bizarre budding friendship between the two that forced her lips to be still. Moreso, it was the fact that these thoughts were not helpful or informative in anyway. Her opinions ... why should they matter to Nymeria, especially unbidden? 

So she remained silent a while longer. 

However as the conversation shifted to Isopia for a moment, the demigoddess's eyes regained some intelligent light, for now it seemed she was being asked to do something more than just listen and observe the dark mare's tales. You are different than anyone I've ever met. Isopia's quad-horned skull nodded in agreement. This was something she had heard often. It was probably the most permanent adjective others ascribed to her, and it had been affixed to her identity since the day she was born. Sometimes it was an insult, other times an observation, and rarely, a compliment. She thought that form Nymeria it might have been the latter, but wasn't bothered to know that she could be wrong.

Can he be redeemed, or is he best left behind? Immediately, "I don't think those are your only options." Isopia said, her honed academic mind immediately finding logical fault in what the mare had said. But then instantly she realized that Nymeria would know that. So was the suggestion that those were the two options that Nymeria had decided upon?

Isopia took a breath, then allowed her mind to fall into itself.

What do I think?

Isopia was more than aware of her inner ignorance and wishful thinking on the subject. She often found some deep hidden part of herself fantasizing about Volterra arriving in her clearing, braying apologies and indicating that he had smartened the fuck up. But these lingering thoughts always left her feeling empty and even more used than before. It was as Nym had said: Volterra didn't acknowledge his mistakes. Likely not because he was too pig-headed to, but because he didn't see them as mistakes.

Her mind continued.

Nym had said that she couldn't force him to be something he wasn't. But was this who he was? Isopia didn't know. She had seen glimpses of altruism in him, of courage and cunning. She thought of the figurines he had made for her, and even though rage had nearly obscured the rationality of her mind that day, she had noticed the craftsmanship, the hours of work which had gone into them. It wasn't the gesture of a boy who had carelessly and lazily picked roses from the neighbors garden and offered them as a thoughtful bouquet. No, this was something he had planned. And he had been so careful and diligent when building her hot-tub. He had been so much more than the sex-crazed idiot that she'd seen him to be lately. 

What had fractured his need such that only feasting on flesh satisfied him?

Isopia's mind was strained between the part of her that wanted a way to redeem Volterra, and the part of her that would inevitably feel bitter if he was. Because every fantasy of him showing up in her clearing had ended with her turning him away. Too late.

Even if she could find a path of redemption for Volterra to walk, it would be too late for that path to lead him back to her.

So why bother?

"It's up to him to figure out on top of which head he wishes to wear a crown." Isopia said after a moment, her golden eyes revealing some of the hopelessness that she felt. "Either way, I think he'll leave many graves in his wake-" Graves of his opponents, and of the children that never were. "-don't be one of them." She finished. Isopia herself didn't know whether this prophetic warning was merely the conclusion of her thought, or an actual plea to the mare. 

Maybe both. But did it really matter?

"You are different as well." Isopia offered thoughtfully, something like genuine appreciation cutting through her academic tone. "Maybe it isn't for you to redeem or abandon your brother. Maybe it is he who needs to catch up to you."