When he was a yearling and his hormones began to swell within his body, he'd mark the platform with his scent and claim it as his. He'd pretend he owned the forest itself, and that his harem and his soldiers marched at his back. How he'd loved to daydream whilst stood upon the age-old stone, looking out into a kingdom he believed was his!

Returning now, older but perhaps not wiser, the leviathan feels a pleasant pang of nostalgia. He has two dragons riding on his back now, his trusty red and his fearsome gold, and his hard work on the battlefield has bulked him up to become almost exactly what his colt-self wanted to be. With the winter chill pressed close against his body, he stands by the Rotunda and thinks fondly of the days when he would have to look up to it, rather than leering down to it like the king he still wants to be.

It quickly becomes apparent that he is not alone with his musings. Vadir is the first to notice, and gives a small huff in the direction of the young mare who stands by a frozen steam. Volterra does not recognise her, but the chilly Frostfall breeze brings with it the scent of Dragon's Throat on her fur, so he directs himself towards her with interest. She's young, just blossoming into her womanhood, and relatively short; there's something about the planes of her body that speak of good bloodlines, though, and the leviathan would be willing to guess that she is a relation of the once-mighty Wildfire. "You smell of the Throat," he rumbles as he draws to a halt a short distance away, Vérzés perched lazily on his back with Vadir circling above like a gleaming golden vulture. "I am Volterra, its Gladiator. I don't believe we've met." He offers what he hopes is a kind smile, but it's hard to twist such rugged features as his into any approximation of gentleness.

She turns to face him and he's afforded another look at her in full; she's certainly a pretty little thing, her youth hardly evident in the curves of her body. She introduces herself as Aelin, and the leviathan files away the name. "The pleasure is all mine, Aelin," he rumbles. His voice isn't intentionally flirtatious, but his general manner is one of salaciousness, of primitive masculinity that almost always appears to be grounded firmly in lust. It is simply how he is, yet it doesn't always imply wicked intentions.

She dips her head, a gesture of respect that makes the leviathan's muscles quiver with dominant delight. He might not be the king he wishes to be, but he knows that his position of Gladiator is high enough to afford him some measure of respect. His own muzzle dips a fraction in return, a silent acknowledgement of the mare's movement. "Recent enough, I suppose. I joined towards the end of Tallsun, at the request of Sikeax. She is...a friend of mine." Given recent events, Sikeax's name seems to be a swear word amongst Throat dwellers, but Volterra has no intention of hiding the reason why he joined. The reasons why he's chosen to stay even now Sikeax is no longer Sultana...now that is a slightly more complex situation.

Aelin adds something in another language, and the stallion twitches his ears with interest. Her words are guttural, similar to his Hungarian and yet entirely different too. "I have not heard that language before," he says curiously, although he recognises some of the words as sounding vaguely similar to the names of Gaucho's many offspring. "What does it mean?" He knows he is not the only one in Helovia who speaks a different tongue, but it's certainly interesting to come across one such bilingual.

Her gaze travels to his dragons, and both red and gold immediately begin to swell under the weight of their own vanity. Vadir ceases her circling and attempts to land on Volterra's broad back, but there's not enough space for her massive bulk next to her crimson brother. There's a momentary serenade of snarling and hissing until Vérzés finds himself ousted, forced aside by the queen's superior size. He flutters off to a nearby branch to nurse his wounded pride, whilst Vadir makes a show of polishing each gleaming talon with her tongue, her eyes fixed on the pegasus mare.

The mare comments on the dragons and then asks how he obtained them. Ah, this is a story he adores! "The red, I found when I was a few months old. I discovered his wild mother dying not too far from here, and he was her only surviving egg." He leaves out the part where he sat with the green as she died, protected her from any who might try to feast upon her flesh. That it too...soft. It is not a story he shares often, given how close it is to his heart. "The gold's mother was also a wild dragon, and I helped her fight off a pack of wolves from her clutch shortly after my second birthday." Vadir gives a proud chirp - Volterra has told her of her heritage before, and she's deeply delighted that she descends from a massive wild gold.

His brow curves with interest as she reveals what she had said in her language, and he dips his head in acknowledgement and acceptance of it. It is a prayer, and one that he hopes he will fufill. "Én fog megvédeni minket, miközben van vér az ereimben," he says, his voice becoming even deeper and more gravelly than usual as he shifts into his mother's taught language, the guttural snarl of Hungarian. See, I can do it too. "I will protect us whilst there is blood in my veins," he translates. Saying the words feels strange, as he never imagined he would feel any sort of bond with the Throat and certainly not enough of one to want to protect it. As it is, he has grown fond of the place, and would truly be willing to lay down his life to protect it if the need arose.

Which, he supposes, is all you want from your Gladiator. Let them condemn him now for not caring enough, for not doing enough.

"You are the Wildfire's daughter, are you not?" the leviathan asks. He has ascertained as much from her language and appearance, but he wants it confirming. He is not sure why; perhaps, if he knows it to be the truth, he will have to mark her as off-limits. Would it be disrespectful to pursue the dead man's daughter, even if not purposefully? It is an interesting concept, and the Indomitable doesn't know the answer. "What do you think of the recent leadership changes?" Although he is honour-bound to defend Sikeax, he can still absorb the opinions of others. Given that this girl probably saw the glory days of Gaucho's reign, Volterra is quite interested in her thoughts. He wonders if her loyalty to her father will cause her to be bluntly and brutally honest, or whether her loyalty to the Sun God will lead her to defend the one he chose - Sikeax.

The young mare tells him that her sister bonded to an owl, and the leviathan wonders if that makes her desire a companion too. He remembered when Nymeria bonded to her little bastard of a black dragon - the scar between his nostrils burns with the memory of the hatchling's bite - and how jealous he'd been of her, how worried he'd been that her companion would trump him in her affections. It hadn't been long until he'd bonded himself, of course, but that short period of time when he'd been alone had been painful. "Do you desire such a bond?" he asks. "I have only good things to say about it. To share your mind with another creature - two, in my case - is something that I cannot speak highly enough of. When those creatures are fierce killing machines, it certainly does not hurt." The brute gives a small snort of amusement, and both dragons proceed to preen with a little extra oomph as they absorb the compliment.

The way she croons his name gives him an odd sensation in his loins, but he forces himself to smother it. Off-limits, off-limits, off-limits, roars his mind. Her question is one he has been expecting, and he falls silent for a moment to muse on it. He has to choose his words carefully, not go with the first thing that enters his head - and impulse control has never been the stud's strong suit. "Ah, the pretty lasses certainly make it hard to contemplate leaving," he says, and he lowers his voice to a sultry growl as he speaks, playing her at her own game. "In truth, I am unsure why I have remained. I joined because of Sikeax, to help her during the difficult early stages of her reign - I always assumed that if she lost her throne, there would be no need for me to stay. I certainly did not invision myself living in the Throat long-term....I've always had my eye on the Hidden Falls, the Earth God's herd." The Sun God is his second favourite God, but Father Earth will always be his patron deity.

"But despite myself, I have grown fond of the place. It intrigues me, and I respect the deep-rooted sense of family that runs through the herd. I confess that I have often felt like an outsider and I know that the vast majority of the herd do not trust me, but that makes me all the more determined to remain and to earn the respect that is offered to the likes of Ampere, Sohalia and Aithniel." He offers a small, nostalgic smile. "So I suppose you could say that I have stayed because I like a challenge, and because I do not give up." On the battlefield, in life, Volterra does not take the easy way out. The Falls beckons, but he has unfinished business in the Throat.