02-24-2019, 08:01 AM
The golden eyed stallion holds her gaze, and though he is silent he wills her closer, as though if he wishes hard enough he might make it come true.
Stranger things have happened to the son of a genie, after all.
Should she stay, the woman asks, and Ivar tells her "Yes," without a moment of hesitation. She should stay and tell him where she came from, what she is. The kelpie weighs his odds before taking a step forward, her bright smile and the heady taste of the tropical air all the encouragement that he needs.
He is bolder in the fall, after all, when prey is most plentiful and willing. Evia does not feel like prey to the piebald hunter, but perhaps that is simply because his hunger has been sated for the day. He remains curious though, and takes a second step, settling just within reach. Evia's warm smile is returned as brightly, as Ivar adjusts his weight on the sand.
The water is too shallow for a transformation, but the piebald feels the pull of it anyway. It is always there but louder when he is knee-deep in the water, and he turns toward it for just a moment before being distracted by the silver haired mare. This close, her scales are more visible, and Ivar wonders how they might feel. Rough, like his own? Or smooth and sleek like those of the test of his women? Perhaps something else entirely, but she remains just far enough away that he cannot touch.
"What are you, Evia?" He asks. There is nothing in his curious tone or smile to suggest this might be an odd question. Women do not rise from the sea every day, after all, and the kelpie assumes that Evia must know this. The answers that she has given him thus far have only spurred more questions. The scaled stallion is eager to know more about this newest addition to his collection. "You are not a quite like a kelpie, but you are not just a mare either, are you?"
@[evia]
Stranger things have happened to the son of a genie, after all.
Should she stay, the woman asks, and Ivar tells her "Yes," without a moment of hesitation. She should stay and tell him where she came from, what she is. The kelpie weighs his odds before taking a step forward, her bright smile and the heady taste of the tropical air all the encouragement that he needs.
He is bolder in the fall, after all, when prey is most plentiful and willing. Evia does not feel like prey to the piebald hunter, but perhaps that is simply because his hunger has been sated for the day. He remains curious though, and takes a second step, settling just within reach. Evia's warm smile is returned as brightly, as Ivar adjusts his weight on the sand.
The water is too shallow for a transformation, but the piebald feels the pull of it anyway. It is always there but louder when he is knee-deep in the water, and he turns toward it for just a moment before being distracted by the silver haired mare. This close, her scales are more visible, and Ivar wonders how they might feel. Rough, like his own? Or smooth and sleek like those of the test of his women? Perhaps something else entirely, but she remains just far enough away that he cannot touch.
"What are you, Evia?" He asks. There is nothing in his curious tone or smile to suggest this might be an odd question. Women do not rise from the sea every day, after all, and the kelpie assumes that Evia must know this. The answers that she has given him thus far have only spurred more questions. The scaled stallion is eager to know more about this newest addition to his collection. "You are not a quite like a kelpie, but you are not just a mare either, are you?"
@[evia]