heavent sent; wyrm

[Wyrm]

when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:

He’d been busy dealing with the bitch of a mare and his son, Longclaw.

When the boy had been young Wyrm hadn’t thought much of it - Claw had seemed soft, too desperate to be like his elder twin and pining after the word dad, which Wyrm had detested. He’d thought perhaps a stint in Pangea would cure the weakness, make him harder somehow, but it only left Claw aching for familial love and affection. Wyrm had been very disappointed in his offspring, then.

It was when he formulated the murder that everything had begun to change. Convincing his son of the evil Lupei was capable of had been too easy; long before the duo had set out for the Beach, Longclaw had been chomping at the bit for a taste of action. And what boy wouldn’t? Wyrm had promised him glory, fame, a strong and unusual power to help catapult him into infamy - any creature starving for their parents approval would have leapt at the opportunity.

But Wyrm had not anticipated the outcome.

Longclaw had grown leaner, meaner, and more conniving than his sire had ever expected and, were it not for the fact that he’d nearly fucking died, Wyrm might even be pressed to say he was ‘proud’. “Epithet, dear.” He croons, slithering through the long grasses as an overfed black snake, “I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting.” He says, rearing a hooded face towards her as he stops near her feet. In a moment he flashes skins, trading that of a snake for that of a horse while keeping the sinfully dark color.

“I was a bit caught-up in the past.” He chuckles, remnants of Ajatar’s pestilence still clinging as bloodied scars to his forelegs. Hungrily he reaches for her, those plush lips finding the willing curve of her cheek in the blink of an eye. “Tell me what’s on your mind, love.”

did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?

@[Epithet] I always have reserve muse for them <3