Riptide Isles
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON" Swimming had been hard enough in the calm seas; now, as they churn back up into something akin to a typhoon, it becomes almost impossible. The already exhausted stallion can feel himself struggling against the tide, and he silently berates himself for not doing more swimming in Helovia, to strengthen these muscles that he hardly uses. He turns, knowing that he has no choice but to head back to shore - nothing seems to be happening anymore, now the tiger goddess has been smote by a bolt from the sky. Sultan! It's that familiar word again, a ghost from his past; its speaker is the same as last time, but now Iskra is struggling against the angry waters as well, and a bolt of concern shoots through Volterra's bones. "Iskra," he rumbles, his voice gargling halfway through as a wave smacks him clean in the face, forcing him to inhale a mouthful of salty brine. He coughs, splutters, but redoubles the effort of his pedalling limbs beneath the surface, directing his massive body towards the flailing colt. He has no idea that Iskra has gills and an aqua-based companion so is actually better off than Volterra himself; he only sees a boy who seems to be in trouble, and those Sultan's instincts return tenfold. He closes his eyes against another wave, and for a moment he could be back in the Throat again. Iskra is thrashing in the Throat's ocean, and it's up to Volterra, his trusted Sultan, to save him. For a moment, the beast is back to doing what he does best - ruling, helping a child that isn't even his own simply because he's part of his herd, because he's the son of the Indomitable's friend, because it's the right thing to do. His eyes snap open, stinging from the salt, and he's back in the unfamiliar, churning ocean of the Rift once again. He might be a Sultan no more, but those instincts are still there, locked away inside him. Suddenly his tired limbs are filled with renewed vigour; adrenaline pours through his muscles, bidding them to increase their pace and power him towards Iskra. "Whatever it is, it isn't good. We need to get to the shore, and fast." He seeks to approach the colt on Iskra's left side, and Volterra bulks his right shoulder out to try and hook it beneath the boy's left wing. He aims to support the youngster against his great bulk, hoping that his haggard breathing won't fail him now, hoping that his lungs won't collapse against his chest and send him sinking into the abyss. Inside his mind he pictures Ampere, and despite his concerns about drowning, despite his exhaustion and burning muscles and stinging eyes and utter fatigue, he smiles. Worry not, Sultana, your boy is in safe hands. With every ounce of strength he possesses and the defiant, indomitable will that gives him his name, Volterra tries to guide Iskra back to the shore, supporting the colt with his body if he is allowed to do so. |
@Iskra Stalk away ;D Vol tries to help Iskra swim towards the shore.
