when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
He understands her meaning when she mentions that Pangea’s fall had pulled the green stallion back into her orbit once more, but Wyrm hadn’t come back to or for her specifically. It was happenstance - always had been between them and he preferred it that way. He was too many things all at once to be just in one place at one time, or around for simply one person. In their world they get to change masks often and the ones he wears well tend to spill over into their own personalities. Wyrm has never forgotten who he was, though inwardly he feels that he is many horses in one. Epithet’s character is before her now, draped in the skin of a savannah King and peering out to the horizon where the sun has begun to slip across their hemisphere and into another.
“When I get bored I come and look for you.” He prompts, shrouded head turning on it’s axis to offer her a sideways grin. His tongue, wide and healthy pink, runs slowly across his upper lips to feel the phantom touch of her nails where they had snagged his skin. “Everything left that’s worth discovering is around us.” The big cat tells her, turning his gaze back to the throng of horses as they peacefully lounge some distance away. Nature and her workings were a part of him, sustained and empowered him. The others? Infinitely curious and always plotting against each other. Made for wonderful drama.
“So, Epithet, can you entertain me for a bit?” He purrs, crossing one forepaw over the other in order to turn himself about so that he might take in the sight of the silver lioness as a whole. He sits, easily, tail gliding over the bent stalks of forage while he weighs her against his spotted lover. The two are not comparable. “Or have you grown dull in my absence?”
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
