"I have no clue. Maybe some forgotten bloodline in Nidhogg's brood...?" Prometheus mused, flexing Aza's rear leg. There was quite a bit of mobility there, and Aza seemed to take to a low walk - he didn't fully stand on his legs, almost crawling on his belly like a stalking cat, and at the moment, Prometheus wasn't sure if that was his natural way of walking, or just because he was a newborn and didn't yet have the strength to walk properly.

As Prometheus did a discreet physical, checking limb function and musculature, Aza squeaked at Hades's prod, looking up at him in surprise. His soul was bubbly and fuzzy, fluctuating and mercurial as any Amaurotine child's would be: very impressionable and swift to adapt, though, perhaps Aza was a little more adaptable than most, thanks to the rapid mutating genetics of his dragon heritage. It wasn't unheard of for dragons to go through several forms throughout their lives. Prometheus, after all, started off as a wyvern and ended up 'growing' his front legs, shifting his wings more to his back.

"He looks nothing like either of us," Prometheus concluded, frowning, "Well, he's bulky for a dragon, like me, I suppose, but..."