Abysm has always believed serpents have their own brand of cold reptilian intelligence about them. He’s conversed with serpents made of darkness and dream, and even one very real and very feminine seeming snake that summed herself sleepily in a rock. Of course he hasn’t forgotten that! Couldn’t, because he sensed an otherness about her - a shapeshifting brightness to her eyes that suggested she might be more than just a snake.
Sometimes he dreamt of meeting her again, or one just like her. On a rock. In the sea. Having conversations, feeling her slither up a leg and onto his back… ah, but these are only dreams! But dreams are the substance he feeds on. The dreams should be what draws him out this day but they’re not. It is the season and the snakes that wind their way across the ground.
So naturally, he looks for a banded sea-snake far from the sea. Instead he finds snakes in all manner of colorful and drab dress, and none of them have the keen intellect that shone out of the predatory yellow eyes. He’s too busy sussing out the snakes to notice the mare of slate and snow, painted like him but dainty in that way that he finds most mates to be - beautiful, disastrous, alluring.
It isn’t until she hails him and he looks up and around to her, finally noting more than slate and snow that color her fur. Her eyes pin him to a standstill as recognition, shock, and a hot burst of triumph (a shifter as he’d suspected all along!) roll through him. “Little snake,” he drawled as he sidles closer, moved by the familiarity of her eyes. It is enough to make him remember, because oh! - how could he forget?
“Do you seek that freedom now?” and he cannot help how his mouth seeks out her neck. He is curious as his plush nose descends to meet the plushness of her fur, as if he had expected her to be scaled somehow even in this more delectable form.
@[Kerrigan] sorry it has taken me forever to reply! ❤️
i would do anything for love,
but i won’t do that