when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
He knows that look - the one Bell-Mae gives when Romek joins them and she sees that ordinary just won’t cut it here in Beqanna. His son, Longclaw, had given him the same look when they’d discussed his lack of abilities. It irritated him then and it irritated him now. With a brief glance in Romek’s direction he listens to the two speak, aware that the day is beginning to wind down and that soon, Bell-mae will have no choice but to either stay or go with one of them.
“Bell-Mae.” He calls to her, voice low and beset with urgency. “I won’t offer you safety, or happiness, or anything that silly girl's dream of - because you don’t need them.” He grumbles, sprouting wide, black wings from his shoulders. “Where I intend to take you is dangerous and I certainly won’t promise you safety when we get there.” Wyrm tells her, simply uncaring in any sense of the word. She wasn’t his responsibility - only a means to an end for the brightly-colored stallion.
“I didn’t pick you for your coat, or your looks, or you gender. I picked you because you seemed like easy prey. If you stay here, that’s what you’ll always be.” He shrugs, willing to relinquish her into Romek’s care if she wished. This trip to the field only reminded him why he prefered not to come to this place in the beginning. Too many unknowns. “Come with me or go with Romek, I couldn’t care less.” He finalizes, pulling the newly grown, dark feathers close to his sides.
He couldn’t take her by force anymore - the law of Beqanna prevented such an act now that Romek had arrived. His purpose for even staying was slowly dwindling. What he did know was that he was short on patience and words, so giving Bell-Mae a quick option was as easy as brutal honesty.
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
