rolling in the deep; any

[Wyrm]

when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:

Slick, fine wings spread out from the point of her shoulders to unfurl and catch the dying rays of light that glance out from beneath the cloud cover of the heavens. Wyrm smirks in approval, watches as she takes off, and then lowers his body earthward to shift into a more comfortable form. Limbs meld and skin reforms to give him the shape of a magnificent, slender tiger, barred in varying shades of brown. His paws spread wide and he leaps upward, extending those long wings to beat mercilessly against the force of gravity that would normally hold him down. The melting snow beneath him stirs and then he is soaring, ever upwards, to chase that speck of black and grey through the thick, darkening skies while his wings beat against each other at every turn.

Higher they climb, until the clouds split themselves asunder with lightning that dazes him and sets Epithet aglow in silver. She’s laughing, that delirious woman, but despite himself Wyrm finds that a toothy grin has spread his cheeks and that a rumbling sort of laughter is echoing inside of his ribs. His ears pin flat to his skull, the rain driving itself as sheets into his vision. He shifts his eyes, adjusts the rods and cones within to sense heat signatures instead of colors, and then the world is made anew to him. Epithet is racing the thunder, twirling haphazardly around the forks of lightning while he hovers atop some cloudhead like a lurking mythos.

But he won’t be denied the chase of a lifetime.

In leaps and bounds he plunges from one stationary greyhead to another, the great bolts of electricity firing around him while he shifts his feathers to take the formation of goose wings, the brunt of the downpour rolling off of them without hesitation. He is sleek, powerful, illuminated by dazzling light and steadily gaining on her. Yet, when the two find themselves together once more he chooses not to overtake her - instead winding up and over her, barreling down and under as he loops carelessly around her. Where they travel, he no longer cares.

The freedom she provides is good enough for once.

did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?

ooc: thought I might actually try and wrap this up, as I won't be around much more to reply. I can start a new one soon though! <3 her