could i use you as a warning sign

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Most of the children that Carwyn has given him are less than satisfactory. That they live with their mother on a southern island, that the second boy has enough teeth to claim an island, that there had been triplets born this past spring; that is all he cares to know. The roan pegasus still breathes only for her ties to Brennen, and perhaps for the blank-eyed ad-oration that she is always willing to shower upon Ivar when he deigns to visit her. She reminds him of Heda, enough so that he calls the roan by that name occasionally. Carwyn never minds. She is too sweet to mind, and her grandsire too powerful for Ivar to add her skull to his collection. So he tolerates her, though were she to wander upon him now he might forget exactly why he does so. He thinks she has, for just a moment. But no, this is a smaller girl, one with his own golden markings and more sapphire than the blue roan could have given alone. So she’d been successful at last, Ivar realizes, and the satisfaction eases his irritation like waves upon the shore. The little girl does not simper, does not cower away from his display of temper, and a grin of his own soon glitters in response. “I’d given up on your mother,” he says aloud, taking a step forward to look her over. Scaled, toothed, and finned; far superior to a great many of the children that had already pleased him. “I’ll have to bring her back.” A subject of conversation not suitable for children, perhaps, but surely Nilam has reasoned out where she came from, why she is superior to her mother and her land-bound siblings. She is like him, from him, she is better and she has him to thank. His irritation returns at the interruption (how dare someone disturb his moment of appreciation for this fine thing he has crafted?), and yet the arrival is not so different from the first. Brighter in color, but the same age as the first, Ivar scrutinizes Tasi’s features for what he had seen so readily in Nilam’s. No, he decides, this is not Carwyn’s daughter at all, but someone else’s. She looks like…hmm. The nereid’s name escapes him (though she never had), and Ivar is not certain how he feels about the strength of her mother in the teal and gold filly. Still, she is kelpie too, stronger than the weaker nereid, and the scaled stallion takes a step back to admire them. “Have you killed anything yet?” He asks abruptly, glancing from one to the other with golden eyes. " I hope your mothers have not let you grow up weak." and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

@[Nilam]
@[Tasi]