10-28-2018, 08:12 PM
 I V A R promising everything i do not mean |
She is still for a long moment, but Ivar doesn’t bring attention to it. In the way she moves after him – with a pause and vacant blink – his suspicions are confirmed. His hypnosis has dazed her, but not so much that she has entirely lost herself. A single dark ear flicks toward the forest and down the beach, confirming the two of them are alone. Does he need something? she asks. Ivar grins, displaying a set of far too many teeth. A reminder, perhaps, of what he is, a final warning. Most times he softens this revelation with more hypnosis, flooding them with euphoria so fantastic they never even realize they are dying. With Kyveli, he cannot have such an ending. Her mother would miss her, and Ivar does his best to ensure that the purple mare is never unhappy. This is at odds with the way his sapphire chin moves to rest across the curve of Kyveli’s back, sweeping in small circles as he attempts to brush a smattering of sand from her coat. The hypnosis shivers along his skin, but the kelpie holds it in. He is reluctant to lose his single advantage in this encounter, and so keeps her mind clear. (From magic, at least.) He stops his grooming to rest his head, his pale nose nearly hidden in the lavender mane nearest her withers. Ivar has turned away from his kelp picking in favor of grooming Kyveli rather than the sand. His right shoulder is now pressed against her barrel, and his neck rests across her back. She smells of the sea, and Ivar breathes in deeply. The beat of her heartbeat is unfamiliar, and he is curious how it might sound at a faster pace. His embrace tightens then, from affectionate to something far hungrier. “You.” He breathes into her skin, the word stretched tight with tension. Let her think it is need. It is not far from it, anyway, this primeval hunger. Would her pelt still glitter if he tore it from her body? Would she heal as whole as her mother had if he ripped her to shreds beneath the sea? Too dangerous to find answers to these questions, but still the hunger remains. Her naivety is not to Ivar’s advantage, but he is rarely unprepared. Rather than rend the flesh from her skin and pull her beneath the sea, he presses a warm touch to her neck. One soft kiss and then another, gentle and tender. A counterpoint then, to the sharper press of his scaled shoulder against her side. The rough edges are surely uncomfortable against her unprotected flesh, but the kelpie is curious how long she will tolerate it, how long his kisses will distract her. His mother had never taught him not to play with his food, after all, and his father had all but encouraged it. |
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
@[Kyveli]