Vadir's eyes narrow down to crimson slits as she glares at Dramyrth. How dare he not obey the queen's beckons? Unfortunately for the royal female, she's so engrossed in her own self-satisfaction and golden pride that she can often forget the fact that she's as mortal as any other dragon. Any musings on a trap are quickly forgotten in her indignation, and she unleashes another loud roar and cloud of flame. The queen's great size is hewn with thick, powerful muscle - despite Dramyrth's thoughts to the contrary, she's built for battle as much as any male. How could she not be, given that she's bonded to one of the greatest warlords to grace Helovia's surface? Despite her royal colouring, she knows Volterra would not abide a simple trophy queen, twinkling away like a gemstone but lacking any power or substance. Pretty things such as egg-bearing and grace were forgotten when Vadir was formed, and her huge bulk is knotted with raw strength that is more than a match for any member of her species. How else will she make them bow? She's not the most agile or nimble of beasts, but she doesn't need to be when she's a deadly combination of size, strength and fire.

Alas, she's also forged from prideful arrogance. She's easily goaded, as much as she likes to think that she's better than Volterra and Vérzés' red-hot tempers. The golden male's impetuous snow-shower causes her eyes to flash with frozen fury, and her next roar is so loud it threatens to shake the very ground they walk upon. Down below, the Indomitable pins his ears and glares upwards at her. Really, Vadir? He's answered with a great swing of the gold's scythed tail and another thunderous bellow.

Forgetting her vow to not rise towards him (in any sense of the word), Vadir flares her wings and launches upwards. Despite her annoyance, she's still an intelligent creature and she knows that trying to fly above Dramryth at this altitude could result in her losing oxygen. That would be most inconvenient, so instead the queen approaches from underneath this time. Flying upwards is a lot harder than flying downwards, and Vadir's powerful wings scream their protest as she forces them above and beyond what they were designed for, but simple flaps of leather aren't going to hinder a queen determined to put her subject in his place. Her jaws unfurl, and this time she releases a blast of thunder. It's harder to guide than her flame, resulting in a cloud of errant lightning that sparks in every direction, although she makes a conscious attempt to aim it towards the male's soft underbelly - the stomach, the armpits, the groin. She hopes to paralyze him with her shock breath, to slow his movements and enable her to perform what she desires.

Opening her massive forearms, Vadir seeks to slam her full bulk upwards into Dramyrth, trying to wrap around him in a death grip. Her jaws hunt for his throat - not hard enough to kill, just hard enough to hold - and she tries to barge him firmly upwards, higher into the clouds than either of them have ever been before. The higher they go, the more chance that their breathing will grow haggard on the thin air, that their limbs will become slow and sloppy - and because he's above her, Vadir hopes it will happen to him first.

With a pitying shake of his head, Volterra returns his attention to Amaris. The word Sultan poured from her tongue feels....delightful, carnal, although probably not intentionally so. Vérzés croons happily as she says his own name in that draconic way of hers, and returns her greeting with gusto. Her promise of a new trick causes him to peek eagerly over Volterra's back, watching as the air explodes into no less than five dragon-spirits. Even Volterra is impressed as he scrutinises the spirits, remembering with a smile how enamoured he'd been with them as a boy. "Beautiful," he murmurs. Vérzés screeches happily and dives among the spirits, frolicking in particular with the two reds. His voice is a chorus of chirps and grunts, speaking to them in the most primitive of dragon-tongues. "No need to apologise, Amaris. You're right, he does enjoy playing with the spirits. He doesn't get much chance to interact with other dragons...Vadir doesn't really like him, you see." There's a frown on the titan's face as he explains this. His dragons are more agreeable to each other now that they're older and more mature, but it's still far from harmonious and they squabble often.

The mare says that she's chosen to join the Edge, and a frisson of disappointment ghosts across the stallion's features. He'd truly thought that she would join the Throat, and it's painful to realise that she's chosen to go elsewhere. He tries to hide any such deep emotions, though, schooling his face into neutrality and simply nodding to the information. Amaris then reveals her reasons for being here, and it causes the warlord to quirk a brow. "I must say, the Diviner's Fire is rather popular these days." Only a few weeks ago, Isopia had come to take some for her own quest. Since he gave it to her, he supposes that it's only fair to give some to the Edge, too. "You're welcome to take some. I cannot think of anything to ask for in return, but just think of it as you owe me and the Throat a favour." He gives the dragonmare a somewhat sultry wink, trying not to think of all the favours she could provide him with. In truth, he'll consult with Ampere and see if there's anything healing or craft-related that they can ask for to benefit the whole herd, but he's still allowed to dream of what he would ask for.

"Come, it's this way."