He blinks stupidly down at his son as the boy speaks. Heavens, Isopia was right - their children really have inherited her brains. "Uh...." Volterra has never really thought about that before. He'd just accepted that things are named just because, and questioning them had never entered his mind. He stares numbly down at the boy, torn between being impressed at the lad's obvious intelligence, and annoyed at his smart-arse questioning. Eventually he just gives a deep, booming chuckle. "I think that's a question for your mother, son," he says with a laugh and a wink.

He moves towards the cavern with his son trailing behind him. Inside the glassy abyss in front of him, he can see the fish swimming overhead, quite perturbing considering the fact they're normally below him. Cautiously he steps into the tunnel, and the sea above him casts dazzling lights across his body as the sun refracts through the water. It's beautiful, he supposes, if eerie.

Then, the volcano-boy is speaking again, and Volterra snaps his head towards him. Goodness, the colt is argumentative! He should be proud of the fact that the foal is willing to stand up to even his father to get his point across, which certainly denotes a kind of bravery. "They're one and the same, Vulkán. You're right that there's a world of difference between running and fighting, but increasing your stamina through one will help you with the other. There's no experience that can match what you'll get on the battlefield, of course, but anything you can do to tone your muscles will help." He nods sagely. At Vulkán's next words, the stallion's head nearly snaps from his neck as he turns to stare. The boy...does not wish to be a warrior?

Volterra thinks of Astarot, focused on his healing. He'd been proud of the young man for the path he'd chosen, but he'd truly thought that Vulkán, given his esteemed parentage, would want to follow his genetic perks onto the battlefield. To learn that the boy has no interest in fighting is a disappointment, to say the least. "Oh," he rumbles, hardpressed to hide the disappointment in his voice. The lad is entitled to choose his own path, but...it seems like such a waste. "What would you like to do, if not become a warrior?" He makes a valiant attempt to sound cheerful and interested, but it is hard to keep the sadness from his voice.