He has been keeping a close eye out for the newest addition to the herd. Aelfwine is, in many ways, his perfect woman; a budding warrior, a beautiful sight, and a competent lover. Having her join the Throat sends shudders of delight down his spine, as he knows it will allow them to continue the tawdry affair that they'd started. When he hears the antlered mare's cry, he's there in an instant - his monolithic stride draws him at a gallop across the Throat's sands, not stopping even when he reaches the shore. His key creates wings of fire, bringing him soaring across the water until he lands with a thud next to the warrior beauty. Even without beer goggles on, she's a stunner. A smile spreads slowly across his face, his eyes undressing her with absolutely no sense of shame.

She is not alone, though. "Reichenbach," comes the rumbled greeting, his eyes assessing the other man's wounds with approval. "Sparring, I see? Excellent." There's a pleased smile upon the titan's face, because knowing that his warriors are doing their duty is a fine indicament of the Throat's desire to be known as the ultimate soldier herd. The Indomitable's own flesh bears marks of recent battles, not least the still-healing gash that ripples across his left shoulder courtesy of this very woman.

He might like the brown warrior, yet Volterra is still a possessive beast of a stallion and the familiar way that Reichenbach addresses Aelfwine is not lost on him. He marches forwards, pressing his great weight next to the woman, seeking to plant a possessive nip upon her withers then trying to roam his muzzle up her powerful neck, breathing warm heat against her skin to inspire memories of their sordid tryst. One does not need to be a body language expert to see that Volterra is saying mine in the most primitive and obvious way possible, and when he finally draws away from the antlered beauty, his gaze is dark with a mixture of lust and masculine possession. "Aelfwine, it is good to see you again." The earthquake of a voice is softer than usual, but still authoratative and thunderous, and his muscles are tense and hard. He hopes Reichenbach doesn't take it personally - he is fond of the man, yet he is not fond of sharing.

It's only then that his eyes roam downwards, settling upon the egg at the mare's hooves. "An egg!" he booms, joy radiating through him. Aelfwine's species means she can't bond to a dragon and all other companions are, of course, inferior - Vadir bugles her agreement from her position in the skies where she's lazily circling on an updraft - but it's still good to see one of his warriors about to bond. "My congratulations. Come, let us enter the herd." He steps towards the shore until his fiery wings begin to blaze again, inviting Aelfwine to stand next to him so the effect of his key will cover her, too.

A quizzical, impressed glance is given to her as she tells him that she'd fought a dragon for her egg. "Impressive," he rumbles. He can feel Vadir's scornful thoughts despite the distance between them - "as if anybody could take an egg from a dragon unless she was willing to hand it over!" - and quickly shakes his great head to rid himself of the queen's cold voice. He eyeballs the antlered mare's wounds with interest, although he secretly prefers the ones that he had placed upon her body.

Aelfwine appears to be as eager as anybody to get into the edge, and Volterra obliges with swift ease. His shoulders erupt once more into flaming wings, and he relaxes into them as they carry him across the raging sea below and towards his home. Reichenbach soars nearby, seemingly unoffended by the leviathan's somewhat unnecessary show of possession, even nipping playfully at Vadir as the gold deigns to fly nearby. She bellows her disapproval and opens her mouth to unleash a blast of flame, but Volterra stymies her with one single, withering glance. "Fine," she growls, shooting the bay stallion a dirty look before ascending high above the three flame-winged equines.

They alight upon the Throat's familiar shores with a light thud, and Volterra feels his usual unbridled sense of pleasure at being back upon terra firma. Reichenbach offers his welcome to the Throat, and the Sultan seconds it with a nod. Ah, yes...he hadn't revealed to her that he'd been promoted, had he? "I am Sultan of these sands now, Aelfwine, promoted by the Sun God himself." For once it isn't meant as a brag, more a simple statement of fact. "I hope you don't just like Gladiators." A small, cheeky grin is given to her.