Rainforest Cliffs
anybody welcome!
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON" For the first time, Vadir perks up, her interest piqued. Volterra's heart soars, thinking she's located her red brother - although his senses tell him she'd be far from overjoyed if so - but she quickly smothers his ray of hope with two simple words. "Smell blood." She moves silently through the forest, a glimmering harbinger of golden death as she looks for the source of the aroma, until her disappointment throbs into the warlord's mind. "Oh. One of your hatchlings." Her tone is dismissive, and she returns to her idle observations of the forest's fauna with a contemptous swing of her scythed tail. Exactly which member of his army of offspring it is quickly becomes apparent. "Otem!" For a moment, the sight of her knocks the breath straight out of his body. She looks so much like her mother, and that reminds him that he'll never see Isopia again. His heart constricts, his head bows, and his expression clouds like an oncoming storm, until he manages to compose himself and force the emotions aside. Grief is not something that can be scheduled, penned in when it's deemed acceptable by the unfortunate recipient, but Volterra's iron-willed determination means that he simply refuses to think about what he's lost until he's good and ready to deal with it. That moment is not now. That moment won't be until he's got his family settled here, and until his errant dragon is back by his side. Until that moment he's going to live in a firm state of denial, focusing completely on staying busy and making sure he keeps strong for the sake of his loved ones. They cannot see him when he's weak. They cannot be there when the truth of Isopia's death finally hits him, because he cannot stomach the idea of them seeing the Indomitable reduced to naught more than rubble. So he schools his face into neutrality, although an observant girl like Otem will probably notice that the smile he plasters onto himself doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain as empty as pits. She comes closer, wrapping around him like a vine, and he returns the gesture with gusto. He notices her wound immediately, and the sight of it bids him to break their embrace so he can stare at it in horror. "What happened to you?" Deep, deep down, in that most selfish black depth of his soul, he hopes it's a living creature that has wounded his daughter. He needs somebody tangible to hate, because Kaos is not here to suffer the consequences of his actions. Volterra needs an enemy, and he needs to feel his hooves pulverizing soft flesh into mulch. He needs to feel his teeth hooked in skin, he needs blood on his tongue - he needs a distraction, some poor unfortunate soul that he can unleash every ounce of his hatred, misery and anger onto until they're pulp on the ground and he's finally sated. So he looks at her, and prays that she will give him an enemy. |
