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The Bird watched the day the Serpent was born from the Egg of Elder Flesh. The eldest of the siblings, the Hound, had smelled blood on the wind and called its others to witness this newcomer. Upon seeing it born however, the Hound raised his nose at one who’s skin was so soft and who’s movements were so winding. The Fly likewise buzzed in annoyance to this newcomer who lived only for the moment, the Serpent flicking its tongue to ever-taste the present. The Bird, however, found its interest piqued in this new creature.
The Serpent hungered from the day it was born, eating the Flesh of its Egg and then moving on to those who first laid the Egg, the Elder Spirits of Light and Shadow. The Serpent’s movement were graceful and yet wild, and the Bird watched entranced at the Serpent continued to surprise and unravel the great flock that once ruled the Stars.
Days went by, and the Bird flew from star to star, watching the Serpent weave its coils around planets and stars. Where the Hound constantly barked for blood and the Fly buzzed on and on about stagnation, the Serpent sought new experiences, singing its temptations and whispers throughout the Material. It cared not for what would happen, only that something new would always happen, and that it would happen as deeply and painfully as possible.
Its constant hope and playfulness amused the Bird, and though he found the single-mindedness a little tedious it rejoiced to know that the Serpent was not so predictable as its others. The Bird began to find great sport in teasing the Serpent from on-high, mocking its youth and restless ways.
The Serpent, likewise, had been watching the Bird and found its feathers of ever-changing light to never cease to amaze. Unlike the souls of the Material world, this Bird’s plumage was never the same color twice, nor its actions so simple and measurable as its kin. The Bird’s mind was a labyrinth to always explore, its songs never the same. The Serpent teased the Bird’s singular love of words, how it treasured the written over the flesh, yet was the first to bask in the warm fires the Bird would always eventually leave in its great hunt.
The two would spend endless hours as they hunted, exchanging words. Sometimes the Bird would read off songs and poems to entertain the Serpent, while the Serpent would conjure new profanities and plays to constantly amuse the Bird. The Bird’s eyes were always on the horizon, but it kept one free to see the Serpent’s stick its tongue out playfully or see how the Serpent’s childlike schemes would work to ensnare a prey in some bizarre and unusual fashion.
This was not to say the two were perfectly matched, for the Serpent always kept close to the ground where it could touch the surface of things while the Bird loved the flavor of aerial minds more than earthly senses. The Serpent would say that it was the flesh that stirred the mind, and the Bird would argue contrary. Sometimes they would play pranks on each other, leading a pawn in the way of the other’s hunt, but in this they found themselves always intertwining.
Thus, the Serpent was always constricting the Bird to feel it’s lovely, ever-changing flames, and the Bird always clawing the Serpent to remember the taste of flesh and blood.