When he first claps eyes on his 'date', he realises that this was a very good idea indeed.

It's not like Volterra needs an event like this to attract the ladies, but it is a bit of lighthearted fun amongst the dark difficulties of everyday life. The leviathan meanders through the crowd after finding out who he's been paired with, crimson gaze searching - he is dragonless so he can't borrow their eyes to find this Aelfwine, as they'd both firmly refused to have any part in such frivolities.

The black titan soon finds her by himself, and his eyes light up at the sight of her. She's a stunner, an antlered beauty, and Volterra is hardpressed to keep the grin from his face as he assesses her from a short distance away. She's a definite 10/10, and the stallion decides to pull out all the stops for her. He heads to the side of the Grove where there's some fermented apples (trying to cleanse his mind of the last time he was here with such deadly things) and summons a small, vaguely humanoid golem that comes up to about his knee. He commands the golem to grab a healthy armful of apples, whilst Volterra himself leans down and nips a vivid red rose, holding it tightly (and carefully) in his teeth.

Feeling every ounce the radiant stud, and with a wicked sparkle of amusement in his eyes, the monolith heads towards his date. What more could a woman want than a giant muscle-bound warrior with a rose in his mouth and an apple-bearing golem at his side? "Damn, the organisers must love me," is his chosen pickup line, spoken around the rose as he halts in front of Aelfwine. Tall, dark and handsome, with a rogue's smile on his face and a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, he likes to think he's every girl's dream! The golem drops the apples and crumbles to dust, and the beast indicates the pile with his muzzle. "I highly recommend these."

With a sweeping, deliberately exaggerated gesture, he offers the rose to the antlered mare. His eyes twinkle, showing it's meant out of humour rather than true romance, and he feels his dragons roll their eyes in his head.

He eyes her compass and tilts his ears at her words, unleashing an loud snort of amusement, an eruption of hot air. Ah, he likes this one! "You flatter me," he rumbles, bulking out each formidable muscle to display its chiselled, magnificent size for the viewing pleasure of this splendid specimen. Being compared to a God...naturally that is going to please him, and he sends a silent thanks up to the organisers of this event for pairing him with somebody who seems like a woman after his own heart.

The titan grins and wiggles his eyebrows as she remarks on the apples. "I can vouch for their effectiveness. I'd advise moderation, though - too many and you end up with a headache that lasts for days." He shrivels his nose; after the binge with Roskuld he'd woken up with a pain in his head that felt as though somebody was taking a hammer to it, as well as a lingering sense of guilt and some slightly hazy memories. His stomach had churned, his heart had palpitated, and he'd been convinced that Death itself was waiting to embrace him - after that, he's definitely going to ration his intake.

As she takes the rose and their whiskers brush, Volterra's jaws split into an even wider grin, feeling a frisson of electricity pass between them. She takes an apple and he mimics, feeling the flow of warmth through his body as the alcohol works its way through him. "So, Aelfwine," he says between polite crunches of the apples, "Tell me about yourself." There's a wolfish expression in his eye, a definite face of the cat who got the cream.

That is one of the delightful effects of the fermented apples, Volterra has found - oversharing. His under-the-influence conversation with Roskuld still makes him cringe....he'd talked about how weighty his dick was, for heaven's sake! It appears the same affliction has fallen upon Aelfwine, and his jowls split into a grin as she reminisces on bedding a man here. He assumes that is what she means anyway, given the fact her partner had thought her a whore. "How dreadfully rude of him," he says with a loud, thunderous chuckle. This bodes well, though. If she enjoys the company of men - to put it politely - as much as he enjoys women, then they really will be a match made in heaven.

She then adds that she's part of the Edge, and the leviathan nods his head with interest. "I serve as the Gladiator of the Dragon's Throat. These muscles are not just for show, you see." He gives them another gratuitous flex, feeling them ripple beneath the sleek ebony of his coat. "And the last time I was here, I got extremely drunk off these apples...with very pleasurable consequences." Another suggestive wiggle of those eyebrows, the movement emphasising each scar etched into the rugged face, each sharp, stern contour that lends him his rogueish handsomeness.

"So, the man who gave you such a great time here last time..." The leviathan fixes Aelfwine with his penetrative stare, although there's a cheeky air around his expression, aided by the fact he's consumed a second apple. "Is he your mate, or merely a tryst? In other words, do I need to beat him up, or simply show you a real great time?" His deep baritone is husky, laced with lust courtesy of the alcohol.

The word battle makes the titan's ears prick with interest, and he allows his gaze to dart across her to search for how she would hold up in a fight. She appears sturdy enough, flexible enough to bend rather than break, and those pretty little hindquarters could pack a punch. "Perhaps I could teach you? Although such effort on my part would require a reward." A dark grin is fully in place upon his muzzle, his eyes holding hints of what reward he has in mind.

That smile only widens as she confirms that her Grove lover was not a mate, and that she likes it rough. "Rough is the only way to do it, my dear," he rumbles, shifting closer to her just to prove a point and seeking to apply a gentle, yet firm, nip upon one delicious shoulder. As he does so, he can feel eyes upon them, and he turns to stare across the clearing towards an antlered man who appears to be glaring at him. Not one to be intimidated, especially not by a stallion who is a hand smaller than him, Volterra bulks up to his full and impressive height and glowers right back. "Who is that man? His staring is rather off-putting." The goliath's crimson gaze does not leave the antlered bay as he speaks, and he shifts closer to Aelfwine out of sheer spite.

Perhaps she has felt the eyes upon them too, because suddenly she's leading him towards the obscuring shadows. He follows, his giant hooves thudding against the soft Grove soil as he draws back alongside her, now shrouded in the shadows at the side of the gathering. As he does so, he casts a glance over his shoulder at the chimeric Warlander, flashing a wolfish and smug grin that quite clearly says I don't know why you're staring, but it isn't working. Another apple is subtly devoured as he moves, feeling the now-familiar warmth and relaxation spreading through him. "You've lured me into the shadows...should I be concerned for my safety?" His glowing crimson gaze never leaves her, and he's so close now that they're breathing the same apple-tinted air.

Ah, the staring man is her brother. Suddenly things become slightly clearer, and the leviathan's murderous expression towards the unicorn fades slightly. As much as Volterra's alcohol and lust-fuelled mind wants to march over to the antlered bay and cave his skull in with his hooves for having the cheek to visually threaten him, he tries to put himself in the Warlander's place and Nymeria in Aelfwine's. Wouldn't he be staring protectively, jealously, watching every movement and wishing a thousand painful deaths upon the man who had the audacity to touch his beloved sister? "I understand," he rumbles, and his voice is sombre for a moment as he thinks of his twin. He quickly shakes off his stupour, though, and the grin returns. "His date's a pretty thing too - if he takes his attention off us and onto her, he could get lucky as well." As well makes it sound rather like sealing the deal with Aelfwine is a foregone conclusion, which it isn't. Wrong choice of words perhaps, but the fermented apples do like to tangle his tongue.

She's edged closer without him noticing, but he certainly doesn't object. Their flesh touches, burns, and the Indomitable feels the familiar tingle of need spreading through him. Her antler clips his ear, the tip managing to draw a hint of blood, and he offers a faux-startled snort with hard muscles quivering as though genuinely frightened about what she might do to him - his face, however, remains plastered with a rogueish grin. As the thin trickle of blood from his ear dribbles down his face, he quirks a brow at the tree-marked beauty. "I believe it is supposed to be me impaling you, not the other way around." Oh, Volterra, you smooth-talker! She continues by rasping the tines across his side and a low grunt of pain-induced ecstasy flees his lips, his eyes hooded with desire as he seeks to reciprocate by nipping her neck.

His onyx flex is tinged with crimson from her antlers and the sting makes him writhe with mingled pleasure and pain. "You are truly fearsome, my dear," he rumbles, looming closer to her and seeking to plant another rough bite onto her shoulder.