Kypria came across the water, so the bay King is guessing that she left her parents far behind, but if they’re anywhere close by they are sure to have been summoned by her rambunctious voice. Leilan’s voice starts to lighten as he responds to the girl’s next question, and that is a wonder of the young also. They can lift the spirits of all but the most hardened hearts – he’s still curious about what had brought the other stallion home in such a state, but he’s not sure it’s a conversation for such little ears. “I can swim,” he answers, but then half-lifts his inky black wings from where they lay across his shoulders. “But usually I fly.” Wings, after all, don’t make for great swimming. They’re in the way, and they’re heavy. “You do look almost big enough to swim, though. Close to the shore, at least.”
The ocean can be as dangerous as it is beautiful. She’s safer on top of the waves, but he is glad that her mother and mysterious father plan to teach her how to swim as well; you can never be too careful. Ischia’s children, after all, have been targeted. That thought makes him frown, shift uncomfortably; and that is when Leilan addresses a question directly to the bay stallion. Shaking his head, Brennen looks out to the ocean and then draws his gaze across the girl – his features softening automatically – before he lifts his amber eyes to meet the other stallion’s. “It was easier to gain control, when I stayed secluded,” he murmurs in response, and lets a trickle of the river under his skin escape – the water stretches out, tinged at the edges with phytoplankton, and winds around Leilan’s legs and Kypria’s fins. It dances around her legs as well, teasing, floating. “I’m in control now.”
Mostly.
@[Kypria] @[Leilan]