when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
They are something together that they cannot be when they are apart and in all of his short years yet lived on the earth, Wyrm knows sullenly that he will never find anything that remotely comes close to what Heartfire has given him. Not only in the physical manifestation of their children, but also in the way his entire being feels complete when she presses into the warmth and stability he offers. Blended into one another, they are a shape he cannot shift into, but still one he loves above all of the other forms he’s taken. Before this moment, his steel-blue woman was the only creature alive that might have been able to sway his opinion or actions.
Now? He would readily give his life if she requested it of him.
They watch the pair of gangly limbs and fur untangle, his daughter finding strength and determination before his son, and Wyrm tilts his head to appraise them individually before Heartfire turns her eyes upon him with that achingly familiar grin of hers. He chuckles, happy to let her direct the ceremony (she’d done all the work, after all) while their twins fumble to make sense of gravity. They’re both both blue, a fine color that he and Heartfire had chosen together for it’s unmistakable, eye-catching quality, but his new girl is spotted here and there while his boy glimmers in the sunlight. “Rapture …” He thinks as she tucks the girl close, “Joy and pain mixed together.” Exactly what he thought of when his mind lingered on Heartfire.
“Very fitting indeed.” Wyrm agrees, finding that his counterpart was perhaps better at this whole ‘naming’ ordeal than him. His own parents had waited until they were certain of traits before naming their set. Yet, these two won’t wait and it seems neither will Heartfire so Wyrm watches his son while he contemplates the endless possibilities. His boy is up and moving finally, though unsteadily, determined to make his way to where his sister has begun her meal so the green, newly-minted father reluctantly pulls away from their dam to allow room for the pair of them.
In passing, his nose stretches downward, running along the silky tuft of mane and the gently spotted, highly reflective coat. Something, however, catches his eye. Neatly tucked underneath that tiny lip, but barely jutting out from the colt’s mouth is a single elongated tooth - curved, needle-like, and certainly not equine. A proud snort blows wind over the tiny frame of Wyrm’s son and then the idea comes naturally to him. “This one looks to be shifter, and if I’m correct I know exactly of what type.” The father declares, eyes rising once more to meet the clash of blue in Heartfire’s face. “Longclaw. Strong name for a boy.” He offers, circling about to watch them bury themselves beneath the shade of their mother’s belly.
“Strong name for a wolf.” He thinks with deep satisfaction.
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
