He'd wondered how long it would take until their own Gods would appear to cast some light over this usurper. Of late, Volterra has felt as though he alone does not implicitly trust Kisamoa, that he is the only one not to fall, ensnared, into the sea man's trap. This is not the case, as others thankfully share his misgivings, but he still despairs for those who seem to trust Kisamoa unquestioningly.

He arrives on the beach with Vadir perched on his back, her intelligent gaze darting around the gathered crowd. She spots Isopia, and immediately begins to growl deep in her throat. Vadir, don't, he mentally warns her, knowing that he risks earning her ire by scolding her so soon after they've repaired their damaged relationship. To his surprise, the golden dragon ceases her growling, but continues to glare over at the demi-goddess. Vérzés is off hunting, and Volterra sorely misses his balancing act against Vadir's pulsing sense of loathing.

Again he has to fight the impulse to approach Isopia, knowing that this is not the time or place. It is too public, and their first post-fight discussion needs to be just betwen them. So he snaps his gaze away and looks instead to the Moon Goddess, wondering if any of the other Gods will see fit to appear as well. After all, Kisamoa had proclaimed to know the Earth God, so Volterra fully expects his favoured God to appear and set the record straight.

His gaze travels to Tyrath, who is speaking to a colt that claims to be Aithniel's son as well. The leviathan's eyes widen, and he feels an unbidden spasm of jealousy in his chest - another stallion has had the Sun's daughter? He shouldn't object - she is not his, after all - but it rankles with his ingrained masculinity to know another man has pissed up his lamp-post, so to speak.

Deciding to leave his son to socialise with his mother and half-brother, Volterra looks around for anybody else that he can possibly interact with (to keep him out of the path of temptation, aka Isopia). He sees one that's vaguely familiar - a small blue mare who he knows from the Throat, and who had once attempted to chase him away from an interaction with her daughter. He shifts his colossal frame towards her, whilst Vadir's hungry golden gaze rests on the mare's brightly-coloured companion. "Hello there," he rumbles. It is an innate drive to get to know his herd-mates that convinces him to interact with the winged woman; they do not trust him, and that will not do. If he is to remain in the Throat for any length of time, he must socialise with everybody, even those he doesn't know. Earning the trust of strangers is a vital part of herd life, and one Volterra must conquer if he is to ever lead.

"We haven't properly met. I'm Volterra." Undoubtedly she already knows this from the meeting, but his mother's manners teachings encourage him to say it out of politeness. He lowers his voice, his crimson gaze darting between the Moon Goddess, Kisamoa, and Ampere. "Do you trust the sea-dweller?"

After her faux pas in the water, most horses would have given any further interactions with their scolder a wide berth. Perhaps shame or guilt would have kept them away, if not sheer embarrassment at their error. Not Oizys. She wasn't even a bit sorry that she'd shouted beneath the water instead of just thinking it, nor does she intend to apologise to a barnacle-encrusted asshat with a god complex.

She slips through this newest crowd, as bold as you please, with a grand total of 0 fucks to give about what had happened beneath the waves. Hey, she'd tried. Her dulcet tones had probably given the fish a damn good time. Ker rests on her back, her vicious head tucked neatly beneath her wing as she dozes upon the filly's broad hindquarters. She likes to pretend none of this Barnacle Bill-related drama is happening, choosing to quite literally bury her head in the sand (aka, her own feathers). She'd been mighty pleased to see her bonded emerge alive from the ocean, but has decided that was more than enough stress for her to be getting on with.

The gargoyle's cold stone gaze travels towards the Goddess of the Moon. Oizys isn't too up on her Gods, but the Goddess strikes her as the most badass. Mother had taught her about Moony's little murder spree, and that's a whole bunch of awesome in Oizys' opinion. Anybody who can take over someone else's body to commit dastardly deeds is practically a legend to the yearling, and she looks greedily and admiringly at the Goddess.

Maybe Barnacle Bill is about to get his come-uppance.

These events are becoming quite commonplace, and the bull-horned colt cannot help but wonder if this is normal. Mother had never mentioned the sheer volume of these gatherings, yet Arakh doesn't think he is fortunate enough to be born into such an interesting time. It must always be like this, but everybody kept it quiet!

He's arrived alone today, devoid even of his sister. He'll dart right over to her the moment she appears, of course, but right now he feels an odd sense of liberty as he looks around at the gathered crowd. In the absence of his mother and sister, he's free to go around and chat to whoever he wants! Of course, Mai wouldn't ever stop him doing that, but it's much harder for him to make friends when she's watching him like a hawk.

He spots Mattheo, the colt from the caverns, but he wants to speak to someone new! His bull-horned head twitches from side to side as he scans for potentials, until....aha! There's another boy, winged like him, who seems loud, rambunctious and fun! Living with his mother and sister, Arakh finds that he suffers from a sad lack of colt-company. He craves male friends to wrestle and play muddy, dirty, rough games with, something that he sadly can't do with Esinakh due to her hatred of anything mucky. There aren't any colts in the Edge that seem like they'd humour him, so his dreams of fun rough-and-tumble must remain just that - dreams.

So he looses no time in diving towards the bay youngster, a broad grin peeling away across his lips as he grinds to a halt. "Hi," he grunts, and a sudden spasm of shyness makes him forget exactly why he'd approached the strange boy. With his stunted speech and odd, wild behaviour, Arakh hardly appears to be the safest of friend choices, and he half-expects the gathering of foals to dissipate in horror at his appearance. "Um...Arakh stand here too?" he asks, looking beseechingly at the younger boy as though asking his permission to join in with him and his friends. The blue-winged youth seems popular, flush with buddies his own age, and he might not want a slightly odd bull-horned stranger loitering nearby.