11-20-2018, 10:24 AM
For a moment she is still, and Ivar passes the time it takes her to search her memory by moving closer. Her stance might be squared off, ready to flee or fight, but the kelpie does not want either of those. Well, perhaps he’d like a bit of a fight, but he knows better now. The kelpie’s territory has recently expanded, and with it the need to defend it from interlopers. The arrival of his family has been the perfect coincidence, but it is not enough. Ivar needs a stronger grip on his prey before he swallows it, needs to be certain before he acts.
Killing the population of Ischia is not in his best interest, but that doesn’t make it any less appealing.
Ivar listens, catching the names and main points: dead, back to life, changed. But it is the last thing she says that catches his attention. ‘Like a dragon of fairy tales’ she says, and Ivar recalls in an instant the other dragons he has found. They are not common even in this land of magic, but they have one thing in common. Nerine.
Rather than dwell on it, he looks back at Deiti, his golden eyes narrowing as she stretches forward in an apology. For a moment it looks as though he might attack, cut a scar across her pretty face as reminder. He does consider it, but she looks suitably cowed, and there is a brief flicker of disappointment across his brow.
“Did you drown him?” Ivar asks, bumping his muzzle against her offered one with a wordless demand for honesty. Rather than withdraw he continues to draw closer, nudging at the tense lines of muscle along her scaled neck and the sleek and unmarred surface of her shoulders. Ivar recalls his discovery of her scales, hidden beneath the too plain horse hide. Can she turn them even sleeker, he wonders, shift them to impossibly adhesive and use them to pull prey beneath the surface? She’d said Leilan was dead in her pond; had she brought him there? “Did you want to drown him?”
@[Deiti]
Killing the population of Ischia is not in his best interest, but that doesn’t make it any less appealing.
Ivar listens, catching the names and main points: dead, back to life, changed. But it is the last thing she says that catches his attention. ‘Like a dragon of fairy tales’ she says, and Ivar recalls in an instant the other dragons he has found. They are not common even in this land of magic, but they have one thing in common. Nerine.
Rather than dwell on it, he looks back at Deiti, his golden eyes narrowing as she stretches forward in an apology. For a moment it looks as though he might attack, cut a scar across her pretty face as reminder. He does consider it, but she looks suitably cowed, and there is a brief flicker of disappointment across his brow.
“Did you drown him?” Ivar asks, bumping his muzzle against her offered one with a wordless demand for honesty. Rather than withdraw he continues to draw closer, nudging at the tense lines of muscle along her scaled neck and the sleek and unmarred surface of her shoulders. Ivar recalls his discovery of her scales, hidden beneath the too plain horse hide. Can she turn them even sleeker, he wonders, shift them to impossibly adhesive and use them to pull prey beneath the surface? She’d said Leilan was dead in her pond; had she brought him there? “Did you want to drown him?”
@[Deiti]