12-13-2018, 08:48 AM
The sunlight illuminates the water, casting the coral shelf on which Ivar rests into bright relief. The tricolored kelpie has been still for long enough to appease the aquatic residents on the reef, and fish as brightly colored as he is flit overhead and alongside him. They carry out their daily lives without thought: eat, rest, mate. It is not an existence so different from the kelpie's own, though the predatory animal is far less easily frightened than the glittering fish around him..
He is reminded of this as he rolls to his side, scratching an itch on a bit of staghorn coral, and the reef is suddenly still but for the waving seagrass. None of the colorful little fish would be anything more than a mouthful for the seacreature, but they know danger when it swims alongside them. He barely notices their absense, but might have were he not distracted by the shifting of the water and the taste of something unfamiliar amid the salt.
He rises with a few flicks of his finned tail, lifting his head above the water to better see exactly who it might be. The island of Ischia is quiet for the most part, populated by a handful of horses that Ivar knows well. This one is a stranger, coincidentally near enough that he has found her simply by chance.
There is no one on the beach that he can see, but Ivar is cautious and unwilling to ignore suspicions. He'd let that grey horse take away the bone stallion, but that is only because he hadn't known the man, and hadn't cared for the presence of another stallion on his island. If this stranger intends to steal away with someone else, they will find a rather unwelcome surprise waiting for them in the sea.
As he moves from water to land, the kelpie's figure shifts, from four claw-finned limbs to hooves and a tangled knot of a tail rather than a single fin. He remains otherwise the same: sapphire blue edged in gold and splashed with white, breathtakingly lovely even with the sharp teeth that are revealed as he tastes the air. There, he decides, his dark ears flicking toward the treeline.
Someone is there.
@[Synapse]
He is reminded of this as he rolls to his side, scratching an itch on a bit of staghorn coral, and the reef is suddenly still but for the waving seagrass. None of the colorful little fish would be anything more than a mouthful for the seacreature, but they know danger when it swims alongside them. He barely notices their absense, but might have were he not distracted by the shifting of the water and the taste of something unfamiliar amid the salt.
He rises with a few flicks of his finned tail, lifting his head above the water to better see exactly who it might be. The island of Ischia is quiet for the most part, populated by a handful of horses that Ivar knows well. This one is a stranger, coincidentally near enough that he has found her simply by chance.
There is no one on the beach that he can see, but Ivar is cautious and unwilling to ignore suspicions. He'd let that grey horse take away the bone stallion, but that is only because he hadn't known the man, and hadn't cared for the presence of another stallion on his island. If this stranger intends to steal away with someone else, they will find a rather unwelcome surprise waiting for them in the sea.
As he moves from water to land, the kelpie's figure shifts, from four claw-finned limbs to hooves and a tangled knot of a tail rather than a single fin. He remains otherwise the same: sapphire blue edged in gold and splashed with white, breathtakingly lovely even with the sharp teeth that are revealed as he tastes the air. There, he decides, his dark ears flicking toward the treeline.
Someone is there.
@[Synapse]