:WYRM:
He’s finished with the Mountain and her tricks now. Reveling in the renewal of his long-lost powers, Wyrm had leapt boldly from the edge of the top of the world and sprouted glorious golden-brown wings to help him drift earthwards. The flight, the wind in his ears, the sharpness of his vision as it turned from prey to predator all contributed to filling his very essence with purpose again and it was as if he had never been that strangely weak green stallion. He was the descendant of greatness, and he was himself in every sense of the word. Pliantly, his hooves had split into great claws and he’d wrung himself tightly around the trunk of a tree, inhaling the overwhelming sensations all around him before winding his way eerily downward again.
He could laugh from the aching joy of it all.
It was only with quiet reserve that he molded back to his original shape, picking his way with bold steps through the thinning woodland while the bent shafts of summer light dappled his verdant hide. He had places to be now, things to accomplish, which is why he doesn’t see the flash of familiar blue hues until he’s nearly on top of the horse. Even then it takes him a moment to puzzle it all out, because it simply couldn’t be who he thought it was, could it? There was no way - his twin had been gone before Wyrm had even reached maturity, the two of them respectively choosing to follow opposite parents. He can only stare with narrowed eyes while the horse who looks like his brother mimics their dam, taunting him with a tart form of “hello”.
“You slimy bastard.” Wyrm replies, but there’s no hiding the devious grin that splits his mouth in two to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Without a thought, his skin ripples and the two of them are mirror images, peering at one another in an annoying fashion Wyrm has always enjoyed. They’d played roughly as foals, and irritating Kudu had been the first thing to bring him something close to happiness. “Can’t believe you’re not dead yet.” He laughs, easing into a comfortable position while the memories flood back. “Is mom … ?” He begins, but the word dead won’t form in his mouth.
It is the only question he needs answered for now.
ooc: *cries tears of familial joy*