His question only seems to have spurred her on, and he's soon falling behind. Speed has never been a defining trait of his, and the undersides of his hooves are nicked in several places from the sharp stones. Running on these conditions wasn't smart, and he soon slows his pace to a clattering trot before he damages his feet further. The dragons chuckle cruelly from their position in the heavens, and neither of them hold any sympathy for his plight. With their diamond-hard scales that even extend to the palms of their paw-like hands, they have little idea of the pain caused by a sharp stone to the foot.

Her tone does not imply the awestruck reverence he'd hoped, but he's quick to reassure her that the rocks are not the Gods. "No, the shrines aren't the Gods themselves - they're just how you summon them," he explains. The fish-mare fixes him with her glare, baring those savage teeth of hers (damn, it'd be useful to have fangs). He meets her stare, unwavering, indomitable; his chest rises and falls with greater force than usual from his headlong gallop and his muscles thrum with unused energy, but his face is its usual stony mask. The leviathan isn't sure what he can read into her posture, her words - he thinks there's desperation there, but he is not the best at judging such things.

He can't help but wonder if his suspicions are correct, however. Are her people trapped? Had she hoped his Gods could release them from whichever prison they were entombed within? He doesn't know if they could. They can spawn companions, give magic, forge amulets, but can they tear a hole in the fabric of the universe? She looks to the sea, then back to him. He's not sure why, but he hopes the Gods can help, if they choose to heed her call. Not just because doing so will earn her favour and that could lead to all sorts of delicious privileges for him, nor because having a herd of fish-people would certainly spice up Helovia's landscape.

No, it's because nobody deserves to be the last of their kind; nobody should feel so hopeless, as though the weight of the world is on their shoulders. She could have children, siblings in the Rift - Volterra knows what it's like to see family members trickle slowly away. He would not wish that on anybody.

She asks how to summon them, and he gestures with his nose to the shrines. "Go to the shrine of the God you wish to summon, and touch it. But, Aquila..." He fixes her with his sharp red stare. "Remember what I said during our last meeting. The Gods do not always heed the calls of mortals - please, do not be too disappointed if nothing happens." But he has a feeling it's too late to stop her building her hopes.