The gusting winds from the south carried with them the ash from Tephra, and so Ivar has spent most of the morning and afternoon beneath the water. His brief visit to Tephra as a child had been enough to earn a grudging respect for the lava-filled kingdom, but he is not especially fond of the strong smell of sulphur.
Emerging from the water at long last, the piebald kelpie shakes a storm of water from his hide. He tosses back his head to clear the tangled cords of his mane out of his line of vision and glances up and down the beach. It is empty, as he knew it would be this time of day, and Ivar uses the opportunity to his advantage. Kylin is never very far from the shore, but he had been unable to find her yesterday. It bothers the kelpie, that sliver of uncertainty, and he prowls down the beach with a single minded focus until at last he finds her.
She’s facing away from him, which makes it all the easier to slide his muzzle up the curve of her back before stretching his neck across hers in a hug. His affection is slow, lazy even, and fitting for the humid warmth that envelopes the tropical island. It is only when he pulls away for a better look at her does he realize that he held her much differently than he did during their last embrace beneath the moonlight.
He glances back at her belly, no longer distended with child, and realizes that the small moving object ahead of them that he’d ignored until this moment, is not a gargantuan parrot but rather a small purple filly. The piebald kelpie turns his attention back to Kylin, feeling mildly put out that he hadn’t been there to drown it at birth. Well, he decides, as he smooths a hank of lavender mane from Kylin’s neck, there’s other ways to dispose of it.
@[Kylin]
@[Kyveli]
Emerging from the water at long last, the piebald kelpie shakes a storm of water from his hide. He tosses back his head to clear the tangled cords of his mane out of his line of vision and glances up and down the beach. It is empty, as he knew it would be this time of day, and Ivar uses the opportunity to his advantage. Kylin is never very far from the shore, but he had been unable to find her yesterday. It bothers the kelpie, that sliver of uncertainty, and he prowls down the beach with a single minded focus until at last he finds her.
She’s facing away from him, which makes it all the easier to slide his muzzle up the curve of her back before stretching his neck across hers in a hug. His affection is slow, lazy even, and fitting for the humid warmth that envelopes the tropical island. It is only when he pulls away for a better look at her does he realize that he held her much differently than he did during their last embrace beneath the moonlight.
He glances back at her belly, no longer distended with child, and realizes that the small moving object ahead of them that he’d ignored until this moment, is not a gargantuan parrot but rather a small purple filly. The piebald kelpie turns his attention back to Kylin, feeling mildly put out that he hadn’t been there to drown it at birth. Well, he decides, as he smooths a hank of lavender mane from Kylin’s neck, there’s other ways to dispose of it.
@[Kylin]
@[Kyveli]