when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
The shock in Circinae’s eyes says everything that refuses to spill out of her mouth. To be fair, Wyrm had been shocked when the rumors had first begun to grow - passing from lip to lip that somewhere, near the western edge of their land, a wolf had begun to prowl on innocents. Stealing children and mauling older horses with no design or purpose to the madness. It only began to take shape once the green stallion had tracked down the victims, finding that most were in some way related to himself and his half-sibling. The signs were too obvious to ignore: Lupei was prowling again, picking off the undesirables bit by bit.
Sad part was, Wyrm hadn’t waited to see what the ultimate goal for such actions were. Perhaps Lupei had wanted to extinguish any who might have carried his stolen gift, keep them from rising against him. Wyrm was also painfully aware that his sire had taken the path of the wolf very seriously and any of his lineage who fell short of those expectations were more than likely viewed as unworthy of the trait. Whatever the reason may have been it didn’t matter now. The old wolf had been mad in his final moments, frothing and raving about incidents time had long forgotten.
Wyrm takes her silence as permission to continue so his jaw drops loose, “He-” slipping out before the noise of hooves breaking through underbrush draws first both viridian ears, then his emerald head, in the direction that Lestrade bursts through. The newcomer is painted like a poisonous frog, with a tongue sharpened for questions that don’t particularly arouse a smile over Wyrm’s mouth as he takes him in. The shifter lets the inquiries lie for a moment, the silence stretching briefly before he moves away from Circy. With few steps he meets the spotted stallion’s eyes measure for measure, wet lips peeling back to reveal needled teeth as his ears lower to his neck.
“Shut that rude mouth tight, boy,” He hisses, chin slacking so the compressed air can blow across the other horses’ nose. “eavesdropping will get it ripped clean off your face, if you’re not careful.”
Circinae, though, finds no pleasure in her brother’s actions. “Enough.” She spits, drawing alongside the green man to peer curiously at the third member of their growing party. “Did you know our father, or are you just here to fill up on gossip?”
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
