I was born with a broken heart

A short distance away, another boy in mourning stands upon the shore. You watch impassively as Volterra labors, sunbeam eyes narrow, tail licking and lashing the sand. The black behemoth builds and burns, smoke rising from his skin, and still you watch , wait, unwilling or unable to intervene. You can make some guess as to his actions - you have built enough figures of your own, birthed enough creatures to recognize the act of creation. What is he building, you wonder idly, that familiar flash of curiosity dulled by your unwillingness to approach the other. You barely know Volterra. You know that you are different, fundamentally - that's easy enough to tell just looking at the pair of you. He is large, strong, tall, complete; you are small, slight, winged, a cyborg. He wears pride and masculinity like a badge, while eager youth and bashful boyishness is your calling card. He is a warrior, you are a builder. He is a leader; you are just trying, day by day, to get by. And yet there are many things you share. He is a father, like you; he cherished the sands, like you. But more importantly, more than this, the thing that makes you brothers and rivals is that you have loved the same woman, and lost her. Isopia is a brand on your heart, a piece of you until the day you die. Her memory is a larksong, a streak of sunlight in this strange, sunless world. She is (was) your first friend, your best friend, your soulmate in ways that go far beyond romantic, meant so much more than sex. You have a child by her. Volterra has two. The former Sultana is something of a conflict to you, a piece of Isopia you cannot understand. You still remember that careful confession, the strained utterance in the embrace of the talking tree - I was pregnant. I killed it. It was a mistake. You did not know, then, that it was Volterra's child. And when you found her on the border of the Dragon's Throat, looking for someone to scour her mind, to save her from the one who had harmed her - you didn't know then that it was Volterra, either. When you came home after the Falls dissolved, after trying to steal Sparky (in jest, in jest!), Volterra was the one who greeted you, though even then you did not know that he was him.To you the Indomitable was little more than an eager young Sultan, perhaps a bit overprotective, but when it came to protecting your brother, were you really going to complain? You were impressed, then, by his dedication, his passion - and once things had been clarified and explained, you'd entered his service willingly, curious to see how this brash king would do under the weight of your father's crown. It was only later, much later, after you were lost and found again, that you finally learned the truth. And even as Iso explained, you couldn't understand. You try, though, now, as you stand upon the beach, try to see what made her love him, what redeeming quality he must possess that convinced her to take him, once more, to her heart. Was it his height? He is tall. His looks? You squint through your forelock, the wind pulling and playing unapologetic with your mane. He cuts a dashing figure, you think - but you also know (knew) Iso, and the lack of importance she places (placed) on appearance. So what was it? What does the stallion have that made Isopia, a mare who prides (prided - get your tenses right, Zero) herself on rationality, behave in such an irrational way? What did the Indomitable do, what did he say, what did he know about Isopia that you did not? What part of her did she give away? How do you get it back? Without knowing why you approach the stallion, now prone and heaving on the ground, your turtle golem in tow. How odd to look down at him, to see someone so tall brought so low. You pause a length away, not wanting to frighten, just wanting to understand. Your throat clears; you scrape a hoof on the ground; some amount of that familiar brightness, that boyish charm, makes its way into your voice. "Hey, Volterra, long time no-" And then you notice it, really notice it, the golem that rests upon the ground. Your own turtle stops, bumping unhelpfully into your hocks, but you barely notice it - such is the pain, the tightness, the anger and sorrow and agony that rises like a spike in your throat. You may have built the turtle for her, but Volterra, with smoke and tears... ...he built her. "-see," you finish lamely, your voice suddenly dull and dry. You bite your lip and swallow, chin rising as you push back tears, the softest snort of a strangled laugh rising from your throat. "Sorry," you force out, your voice barely audible against the pounding of your heart in your chest. "I just, ah, your golem, well..." You sigh, and swallow, your expression strained. You may not understand him, may even hate him for what he did, but in the end he, too, lost someone he loved, and you're too soft a soul to deny him that pain. "It's a really good likeness." OOC;; i'msorryi'mtheworst ;~; also Odd said Iso would've told Zero the gist of what happened with Vol when he got back, so I'm rolling with Zero having (some of) that knowledge

Image Credits
- table by Niki -

@Volterra