He grins as the elder mentions only having seen dragons from a distance. "It's safer to observe dragons from a distance, unless you're bonded to them." Which, fortunately, Volterra is. He still bears the scars on his forelegs, lost beneath the dense feathering, from when Abraham's white set him on fire when he refused to call her a queen. Well, she wasn't. Vadir shudders in disgust at the notion that a white runt could even think itself a queen, and the beast worries for the fate of any plain dragon who attempts to proclaim themselves royal in front of the massive gold.

The older male asks how Volterra came to be lucky enough to bond to two dragons; the behemoth tries his best to hunt for any sign of envy underneath the unicorn's tones, but he is far from the most perceptive of creatures and if it's there, he doesn't notice it. He wants it to be there, though. He likes to feel envied, to incite avarice in the minds of those he meets. He wants them to look at him and wish they could have what he has. The women, the dragons, the magic, the power. Those who truly understand dragon hierarchy know what a coup it is to bond to a gold. Vadir is basically a scaly extension of his dick, and he's shameless in flaunting her.

She does not approve of this analogy, and gives an outraged gargle at it. Prude, he murmurs to her, whilst Vérzés chuckles down his ear like a hyena.

"I believe I was simply born with the ability to bond to two. My father's dragon detected it in both me and my twin sister at our birth - I didn't realise until I was much older that it's a rather rare and unusual mutation. I obtained the red first, when I was a wet-furred colt still reliant on my dam's milk, and I found the gold just after my second birthday. Whilst I admit that I was lucky to be born with the ability to bond to two, it took more than luck to actually find their eggs and ensure they hatched." With Vérzés, he displayed an emotion not familiar to him; empathy. That earnt the precious red egg from the dying wild green. With Vadir, the necessary skill was something far more primal, not to mention more natural to the black beast - violence. He fought wolves for her egg. He killed for her egg.

He shifts his attention away from his gleaming companions and down towards the old male. "If we're speaking of luck, how did you get to be so old?" It isn't meant to be insulting, and the stallion's tones are placidly curious rather than confrontational. Maybe he can pick up some tips on how to live until he's a crotchety old man.