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thorned with wild eyes; ivar - evia - 02-03-2019 Evia we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea @[Ivar] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - Ivar - 02-09-2019 From where he is settled beneath the shade of a palm, Ivar watches the stranger rise from the sea. It was the flowers that had caught his attention. They stood out against the soft foam and the clear water in a way the rest of the stranger did not, and at first he thinks they are simple drifting along the shoreline. But no, his gold eyes make out a head and neck rising from the water, and then scaled shoulders and a silver mane that drips water in rivulets between aquamarine scales. She is breathtakingly lovely, and Ivar is content to simply watch her as she glances up and down the beach. Moments like these are why the kelpie is so certain Fates favors him. He is free of the Plague, his island is undisturbed, his children are plentiful, and the ocean has just delivered something to his very door. Rather than leave her waiting – because surely that must be what she is doing, so still in the lapping water – the tricolored stallion rolls to his feet, shaking the sand from his sides as he does so. He wickers a greeting as he moves froward, leaving the shadows of his resting place for the sunlit shore. Light catches on his golden scales, and he smiles warmly at the unfamiliar mare as he comes to a standstill. His own hooves are barely in the water, a comfortable distance from the flower-haired mare. He glances over what parts of her can see above the water, making no effort to disguise his appreciation. Something about her reminds him of his kelpie women – impossibly lovely and at home in the water – but there is something different at well, something that makes the cautious creature keep his distance. He might not keep it for long, of course. ”What brings you to Ischia?” He asks with a curious tilt of his head. The stream of diplomats seems to have ended, and it is not often that one comes alone. Nor does she smell of any land he knows, though Ivar knows there are new ones, ones that he isn’t as familiar with. Better to play it safe, he knows, than to risk finding himself out of his depth. @[evia] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - evia - 02-10-2019 Evia we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea @[Ivar] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - Ivar - 02-17-2019 The kelpie is overcome with the sudden yearning to seize the creature in front of him. Not carnally (though there is something of that as well), nor even by the throat, but rather as a possession: something to hold and keep and enjoy whenever he might have need of it. A recognizable sensation but not one he’d expected to feel toward a stranger, the scaled stallion frowns for just a moment, scrutinizing the silver and teal mare with a piercing gold gaze. She isn’t kelpie, but nor is she not kelpie. His instinct tells him only that she is something unknown, that she is something he wants. For a time the two of them watch each other, the nereid and the kelpie. It’s Ivar who breaks the silence first. “And will you stay here?” he asks, as the long strands of his tail are pulled about by the knee-deep water, “Or will you drift out again with the tide?” The kelpie is accustomed to holding the ultimate advantage against his prey, but the silver-eyed mare seems as comfortable with the sea as Ivar. She might breathe the briney water as easily as a kelpie does or leap beneath a wave and be gone as quickly as an eel. Ivar would like to see that, of course, but more than that he wants to be sure that she’ll return if she does. “I’m Ivar,” the kelpie tells her. He must shift his weight in the sand, and he considers lunging forward and dragging her beneath the water with his jaws around her throat. Instead he adopts a more comfortable position, and the other possibility never shows in his charming smile. “What’s your name?” @[evia] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - evia - 02-17-2019 Evia we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea @[Ivar] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - Random Event - 02-18-2019 @[evia] is safe from the plague. For now. (rolled a 6) RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - Ivar - 02-24-2019 The golden eyed stallion holds her gaze, and though he is silent he wills her closer, as though if he wishes hard enough he might make it come true. Stranger things have happened to the son of a genie, after all. Should she stay, the woman asks, and Ivar tells her "Yes," without a moment of hesitation. She should stay and tell him where she came from, what she is. The kelpie weighs his odds before taking a step forward, her bright smile and the heady taste of the tropical air all the encouragement that he needs. He is bolder in the fall, after all, when prey is most plentiful and willing. Evia does not feel like prey to the piebald hunter, but perhaps that is simply because his hunger has been sated for the day. He remains curious though, and takes a second step, settling just within reach. Evia's warm smile is returned as brightly, as Ivar adjusts his weight on the sand. The water is too shallow for a transformation, but the piebald feels the pull of it anyway. It is always there but louder when he is knee-deep in the water, and he turns toward it for just a moment before being distracted by the silver haired mare. This close, her scales are more visible, and Ivar wonders how they might feel. Rough, like his own? Or smooth and sleek like those of the test of his women? Perhaps something else entirely, but she remains just far enough away that he cannot touch. "What are you, Evia?" He asks. There is nothing in his curious tone or smile to suggest this might be an odd question. Women do not rise from the sea every day, after all, and the kelpie assumes that Evia must know this. The answers that she has given him thus far have only spurred more questions. The scaled stallion is eager to know more about this newest addition to his collection. "You are not a quite like a kelpie, but you are not just a mare either, are you?" @[evia] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - evia - 03-06-2019 Evia we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea @[Ivar] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - Ivar - 03-09-2019 Her answer is nothing more than the source of further questions, a nameless he that had created the silver creature. Ivar’s frown matches the one that Evia wears, parsing through what little he knows of magic and the sea in a futile attempt to answer what she had not. Of the ocean, she says, and Ivar finds himself smiling. Not an answer, still, but she is trying. He touch upon her neck is gentle, as though she might break as easily as the hollowed shell of a sea urchin. She tastes of the ocean, just as she had said, and his lips find the edges of her sleek scales and they way the flex across the muscle of her shoulder, the way they blend seamlessly with the silvery hair of her mane. The kelpie is curious and uncharacteristically gentle; some wordless part of him insists she might dissolve between his hungry teeth as easily as seafoam if he dared taste her. “You’re something else, too.” He tells her in a tone of voice most often reserved for his children: patient and without hunger. “I just don’t know what.” He might tear the answer out of her, he supposes, break her into small enough pieces that he might puzzle over each one. He ponders this as he follows the scales along her spine with a gentle white muzzle. Perhaps there is a swim bladder like a fish’s beneath the curve of her teal belly, or a complex set of gills hiding in her neck. But what if there is not, and he cannot piece her back together again? Ivar does not like these what if thoughts, they are a reminder that he has spent too much time breathing in the tropical air, too much time on land. “Swim with me,” he tells her, and despite the brush of his muzzle along her jaw as he turns back toward the sea, he does not lace it with a command. His golden eyes find hers, creased once more in a puzzled frown, but the water that reaches up his chest is soothing. Deeper now, the pull is stronger, and the rise of his hindquarters soon sinks into the sea as his hind legs become clawed and his tail grows more muscular. He lowers his nose to the water and then holds it high, feeling the water run down the scales of his pale face. He forgets Evia for just a moment - reveling in the sea – but the moment is not overlong. “Come.” @[evia] RE: thorned with wild eyes; ivar - evia - 03-09-2019 Evia we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea @[Ivar] |