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In the distance, a mountain range rumbled as it shoved through the nothingness and replaced the endless horizon.

I would like to make... a home.

For the souls he guarded, and for himself.

A gust of wind fluttered around him as he tested how to wield something invisible to the eye. It appeared to realistically wave the stalks of grass, rustle the leaves above him, and spread his mist out before it naturally collected back to his incomplete form.

I wonder what will become of our offspring in the meantime.

He kept the viewing disc active, watching Lindiwe as she traversed the world while he created his own.

He looked at it often as days, perhaps weeks, or even months bled into each other.

He moved as slowly as she did while she explored Austrális, seeming to wander the very horizon available to her with their offspring.

Every day, they seemed to grow, even if they didn’t noticeably change.

She continued offering a diet of mainly fish, once muttering how she worried they’d grow too many animalistic aspects and become a conglomerate of creatures. Humour sparked at the notion of what that could mean, as he also thought they’d look odd with too many features.

Lindiwe did find another snake for them to eat, although he wasn’t sure what kind. It did reshape their serpent skull slightly, but only in a way that made it bulkier with a stronger crown.

Not once did he speak to her, as he doubted she’d appreciate his intrusion.

He looked away for what felt like a moment as he created and shaped a mountain range properly. The task took quite some time, as it was large, and he had to sift through many human memories to have references for his art.

It was the echo of a charming giggle that brought him back to his disc.

He peered into the mana, to Lindiwe and their offspring swimming in a body of water. Weldir paused his task to give them his full, silent attention, and even made the mana home in on her face while he leaned into the disc.

This is the first time I’ve ever heard her laugh, he thought, noticing her big doe eyes crinkling at their corners. Her lips were upturned before she squealed and threw her arms up when the tail of their youngling quickly circled and sprayed water over her.

Sunlight poured over them and the moss-covered rocks, sand, and grassy edges of whatever sparkling pond or lake they swam in. A few dragonflies buzzed around them, occasionally stealing the attention of their offspring as they playfully chased after the sound.

Then, when she stole back their awareness, they pursued her with lightning speed as she attempted to swim away.

Considering they were unable to see, they were rather dexterous in the water.

He wondered if they were able to smell her through the water, perhaps taste her through their pulsing gills, or if they could feel the vibrations of her movements.

They sunk whenever they stilled and quickly swirled their tail under their weighty body to keep it above water.

If they dropped beneath the surface, they did so purposefully and shot out to latch onto any part of her body that they could.

They gave a trilling call of delight when they caught her, and proceeded to nuzzle their bony face against any part of her skin they could.

They are very attached to her. As she was to them, by the fact that she grabbed them underneath their armpits and lifted them in the air to spin in the water with a laugh.

His mist tightened around his form until he appeared fully humanoid before releasing again. An emotion lashed his consciousness, and although he wasn’t sure if his assumption was correct, he thought he may have felt... gaiety.

Their joy was almost contagious, which wasn’t something he’d expected to experience vicariously through them.

It even outweighed the desolation that pervaded his thoughts about being incapable of sharing in any kind of bond. He was an outsider, had always been an outsider, and their companionship brought on a longing he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

I am glad she has taken to them.

He tried not to dwell on those negative emotions and let the sound of them exhilarate his spirit as he completed his task.

He brought his focus back to the mountains he’d been forming, yet, like he was unable to stay away, his gaze often flittered back to the viewing disc.

Especially when Lindiwe babbled playfully.

There was an unknown emotion glinting in her eyes as she held them under their arms and swam backwards. It was not a gaze she’d ever shone upon him – something warm and welcoming. Kind and trusting.

No, she only ever looked upon Weldir suspiciously, and with an unfriendliness that cut through his misty form.

“I think I finally have a name for you,” she cooed at their offspring, a smile brightening her features. “Since you have a snake skull, how about... Nathair?”

They softly squealed while straining their clawed hands out to her, since she was keeping herself out of their reach.

“Yeah?” She laughed, bringing them closer so she could nuzzle her cheek against their bony one. “You like the name Nathair?”

Unable to keep himself as apart as he thought he could, he asked through their bond, “Nathair is the name you have chosen, is it?”

Although she kept swimming, her smile instantly fell. She kept her eyes on them, knowing there was no point in searching for Weldir when he wasn’t truly there. He almost wanted to wince with how quickly he’d stolen her fun.

“Is that suitable for you?” Her tone was cold, which was such a contrast to the uplifted coos of just a second ago.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have intervened after all.

“I take no issue with the name. It’s nice that we can call them something proper.”

Her features softened and didn’t appear so harsh.

“I think so too. I just... it was hard to figure out what to name them, but Nathair means snake or serpent, which I think is fitting for them.”

“This is an excellent name, then.” He hoped he’d been named with such care by his mother, just as Lindiwe had done for their offspring. “But it has always been your choice. You’re the one who will call and interact with them the most.”

Her lips puckered as her eyes squinted in that suspicious manner of hers. She placed their offspring upon her chest as she stroked backwards through the water, her expression turning bland.

“Is that why you didn’t offer one?”

“Precisely,” he answered, as he lifted his hands upwards towards the sky with his palms flat towards the ground, which rumbled as he grew a mountain peak. “I also know little about humans and what they prefer to be called. I don’t even know many Elven names.”

Weldir knew no one.

Lindiwe was his only friend, his mate.

Only recently had he begun exploring human memories through their souls. He didn’t know how they came to be named, if there was significance or not, only that they’d been gifted one and inherited another.

Weldir paused for a moment as he looked up at the black sky of his realm.

“What does your name mean?” he asked quietly, wondering of its importance.

Her lips thinned as she looked down at Nathair, who snapped their maw at her playfully. She was slow to answer.

“Awaited,” she muttered quietly. “My mother waited a long time for me, and my birthing wasn’t easy. Even though they tried, there were no others before or after me. She loved me quite dearly for that reason.”

Liquid welled in her eyes before she quickly batted away her tears. She turned and swam for the shore, and the joy of watching them play was taken from him.

Even though he had an inclination he was the reason she’d abruptly stopped, he was still pleased to have learned something new about his mysterious mate.

I have waited a long time as well.

For someone, anyone, to be his companion.

January 9 th , 1690

Oh shit, where did they go?! Lindi panicked as she sprinted through the forest in the direction Nathair had slithered off to.

One minute they’d been wrapped around her shoulders, both of them a little damp from their swim, and the next Nathair had leapt off with a snarl. She’d had a split second to see and hear them thump against the dirt before they shot through a patch of bushes with a rustle.

Even though the shrubbery had been covered in thorns, she’d climbed through it in search of Nathair, but they’d already wriggled away. For the past few minutes, she’d been chasing what she hoped were their long and thick tracks.

She couldn’t believe they’d suddenly taken off on her.

She’d been too distracted after giving them their name, and annoyed by Weldir inviting himself to the moment, that she hadn’t been listening to her environment.

But now that she was searching for them, even she , with her weak human ears, could hear the rustle and clomps of an animal’s feet in the distance.

Using branches to propel herself forward, and occasionally breaking them to get past, she yelled, “How am I supposed to find them again?!”

It’s not like she could call them and they’d come running. Even though she’d finally given Nathair a name, they didn’t respond to it at all.

“Calm, Lindiwe. I will help you find them if you are unable to.”

She wished that would ease her, but it didn’t whatsoever. What if they get eaten?! They were impervious to pain or injury, but they’d never been eaten before, and she doubted anything could survive that. Or what if a bird flies off with them before I can reach them?

With her heart pounding and her lungs wheezing from exertion, Lindi continued to search.

Occasionally she’d pause, waiting to listen for any sign of them before pushing forward.

She groaned at the setting sun. If she didn’t find them soon, she’d lose the light, which would make it just that much harder to find them in the dark.

Their monochromatic head and body weren’t easy to spot, so she’d have to hope they came slithering to her.

Weldir’s deep voice reached her. “Their path is slightly to the right of you.”