Bubble gum eyes swept over him, and Tyrath found himself standing a little straighter with his head held high. The flickering flame in his chest flared a little brighter with it, that leggy foal abandoned in the sands refusing to have anyone look down on him again, even his own flesh and blood. Especially his flesh and blood, any imperfection found on his skin will ripple from one son to the next, and sisters, if he has any that is, he's not quite sure how many siblings he has — or will have, once his father is done siring.

So far, between his new found brother which gazes at him, Zhu and Astarot — he is the only one with wings. It seems his father has a taste for mares who prefer a life with four hooves on the ground, not pursuing the delights which reside within the currents of the air and whose feet scrape upon the clouds. It doesn't bother him right now, whose tail Volterra decides to chase, maybe in the later months and years in his life, he will grow tired of the thrones of skull faced children which stand shoulder to shoulder with him, and if there are any like him, angry and frustrated that they had to suffer until a kindly mare took them in. The elder of the two spoke, and his lips part into a smile of sharp front teeth as his head bobbed with his words. "And you're a son of Volterra too."

Tyrath didn't fail to notice the way the equine's ears fell back as he asked the question, hinting at some unknown displeasure that the younger wished to question him on. Perhaps when they're better acquainted, he can ask him questions, pick his elder brother's mind for opinions and answers that satisfy his curiosity. He asked if he had met their sire, and he nodded again. "I have, when I was a couple days old. He helped me fend off some wolves." He replied as if it was no big deal, to be out alone without his mother, a bitter taste soured the back of his throat. He wouldn't of been attacked, if he had a mother to stop him wriggling out of the Throat and getting into trouble. Instead, it had been his father than day which appeared at the right moment, a moment too late and he might've been nothing more than a carcass for Volterra to indentify.

Their attention both turned back to the mouth of the cave, he'd heard tales of what was inside them, the different caves with hidden wonders and history. You could see the heart of helovia, behind a wall of ancient crystal, he vaguely remembered a mare saying. It's an appealing idea, to explore inside the vast caverns with his brother, see if any who had dwelled within before had left something for them to find. "Sure, I've been wanting to explore the caves for awhile. What better time to do it than now, with a new found brother. My name is Tyrath, what do I call you?" He hummed in response, cloven hooves already carrying him towards the mouth, content to let the other lead the way. If there's anything sinister in there, he can always use his big brother as a shield, since he oh so kindly elected himself leader of this little expedition.



talk talk talk

Tyrath

If Chaos Drives
Let Suffering Hold The Reins