[private] could i use you as a makeshift gauge; Chryseis

[Ivar]

The world is very still.

Ivar wonders if they have all fled to safety, abandoning their homelands in fear of illness. From where he lurks, half-submerged in the icy water, it seems so. The riverlands are quiet, and the snow on the bank is unbothered by hooves.

Hooves other than his own, now. The piebald creature emerges from the water, his hind legs growing to support his weight on land, and his aquatic tail shrinking back into a knotted mess of blue and gold that flicks against his scaled sides. Movement to the left draws his golden eyes, and the kelpie turns to find a small blue figure near the woods.

He smiles without thinking, the expression all but dazzling on his too handsome face. It’s a filly, young enough to not be of interest to Ivar, but the kelpie is less discerning. He only cares that she is alone - a quick glance about a sharp inhale confirms this - and that she is at least nearly grown. The kelpie is familiar with waiting, and the memory of a blushing Kyveli reminds him how delightful the rewards of patience are.[/size][/color]

“Hello.” Says the piebald stallion, moving closer through the shallow snow, the river ever at his back. “What are you doing out here all alone?” There is hunger in his gaze that he makes no effort to hide, but that is obscured by the focus in his golden eyes, as though the roan filly with the bright blaze is the most fascinating creature he has ever seen.

[Chryseis]

you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;
______________________
The snow has brought a hush to the riverland, or, perhaps it is because nearly everyone has deserted the lands that were not deemed as safe. Either way, it is eerily quiet, even if the scenery was the very image of a winter wonderland — pristine and untouched, the snow glittering beneath the cold rays of the sun. It was almost easy to forget that Beqanna has been thrown into chaos.

The blanket that has settled over the ground muffles the sounds around them, and she does not hear the stallion as he emerges from the river.  It is a movement that first catches her eye, and immediately she turns her head, to see a painted stallion moving towards her. She is mildly surprised at first, silently chastising herself for not paying closer attention to her surroundings. She was usually more observant, if only because she was often always on the look out for a new potential friend. Chryseis had been so lost in the tangled web of her thoughts that she hadn’t even been paying attention to the very few horses that remained outside of the protected lands.

But almost instantly she is too intrigued, quickly forgetting the way the sudden sight of him had made her pulse quicken in alarm. His piebald skin shimmers with scales, and her dark brown eyes widen for a moment, her mind racing. Scales. Her father had said his scales came from being bitten by a kelpie, and even though the question is begging to be asked, she swallows it away for now. It is almost instant, the way her rich brown eyes brighten again, an echo of her childlike curiosity coming back, but she is old enough now to recognize the need for manners. ”Hello,” she echoes his greeting, her sweet voice still having a girlish trill to it, and easily a smile brightens the length of her lips. ”I just felt like coming to the river. It used to be one of my favorite places to visit.”

Her slender legs carry her closer to him, and though they still have the appearance of being a little too long for her adolescent frame, she is still several inches shorter than the sapphire-splashed stallion before her. ”My name is Chryseis,” And already she can feel herself forgetting the negative thoughts that had been weighing on her before, her eyes transfixed to the scales that laced his skin. ”You have scales. Why?” Without thinking, she reaches out to brush her muzzle across his shoulder, much in the same way she had touched Rhaegor’s wings, and even her father’s scales. Chryseis still hasn’t learned that not all strangers take so kindly to being touched, not even by pretty roan fillies with awestruck doe-eyes.

chryseis.
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

@[Ivar]

[Ivar]

"You're not going to be in trouble for coming out here? What if you get sick?" The concern sounds almost genuine, accentuated by the crease of worry across his pale forehead. The best acting usually has a seed of truth to it, but that is not the case for the kelpie. Fortunately, he does not need to wear the concern too long, because she is stepping closer without any effort on his part at all.

Ivar hunts through physical contact, so he does not even consider moving away when she comes nearer. He had not been hungry before, but to have a meal press itself so near without any effort on his part is enough to pique the appetite of the piebald creature. For a moment she is just standing nearer, and Ivar turns his head ever so slightly to the side, keeping her in his golden line of sight as Chryseis asks about his scales.

"For decoration." Ivar answers, but he smiles as he says it, and rolls his shoulder so that the weak winter sunlight shimmers on the sapphire blue, shining gold, and pearlescent white scales along it. Nearer to his elbow they are dark, black and without shine, a thick band of flame shaped scarring from his last encounter with another dragon.

"And protection, too, I suppose." he adds as she reaches out to touch the falsely sleek surface of his hide. "There are all sorts of dangers out under the waves." The kelpie is the real danger, of course, but there is plenty out in the sea to frighten a young girl. Sharks, squid, a hungry whale.

One month past, Ivar dragged an old mare below the river not twenty feet from this very spot. To the passersby it had looked innocent - a pair of aquatic creatures slipping below the churning surface. There are fewer witnesses this evening, but the kelpie knows better than to rouse suspicion.

While they touch, the hypnosis is constant and gentle, commands of curiosity that only serve to augment what she is already feeling, a wordless suggestion that she follow his every demand. "Why don't you have scales?" He asks, and there is still a touch of amusement in his voice.

@[Chryseis]

[Random Event]

Chryseis is already infected.

@[Ivar] rolled a 5 and is infected.
A roll of 6 means he's a carrier.
A roll of 2 means he will not express a trait.

[Chryseis]

you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;
______________________
His concern makes her feel guilty for just a moment, thinking of her mother and father. The blue roan filly had been lucky to be born to two parents that loved her, and they probably did notice that she was nowhere to be found. Briseis would just be relieved that she wasn’t dead, but Leilan would most likely be irritated that there were safe lands at her disposal and she had ignored it and remained in Nerine and even wandered off to the river. If fell ill she would likely be drug around to every healer in Beqanna. ”Well, I will be in trouble if my parents  catch me,” there is a laugh that rides the current of her voice, her pretty brown eyes glittering mischievously. ”But Nerine isn’t safe either, so what’s the difference?” 

He speaks of danger in the water, and she cannot hide the look of awe on her youthful face. ”You can go into the water, then? I mean, under it?” Of course anyone can go into the water; she’s been in the river, the lake, and the ocean countless times. But he spoke as though he lived in it. She notices too that he leaves out a particular threat, the one that was certainly more common in Beqanna than a shark — a kelpie. ”My dad was bit by a kelpie,” she volunteers the information eagerly, watching the scaled stallion carefully. She hasn’t entirely put the pieces together, and as a matter of fact, her assumption was actually that he, too, had been bitten by one of the sea-monsters, and so she is entirely unabashed in sharing with him. ”He didn’t used to have scales, but he did after that.”

She doesn’t feel the power that he holds over her. She has always been a girl that was easily infatuated by anything that piqued her curiosity, and he is no different. She does not notice the world around them, not the voices that drift on the breeze or the fact that it is eerily quiet and empty in this part of the river. She sees only his shimmering scales, hears only his voice, and focuses only on his question. It incites a laugh from her mouth, for she is still a child in so many ways, even if she was growing into her svelte curves and her baby-face was slowly evolving into a woman’s. ”Umm, I don’t know...I wasn’t born with any I guess?” She raises a quizzical brow, as she questions teasingly, ”Why, do you know where I can get some?”

chryseis.
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

@[Ivar]

[Ivar]

Her attitude toward being caught does bring a genuine curl of amusement to the kelpie's face; how fearless are the youth. Such easy pickings. The mention of Nerine stirs his interest further; the idea of Chryseis being under Breckin's protection makes her that much more appealing. The leopard spotted mare would surely be aghast at his audacity, perhaps she'd even come to confront him herself.

This emboldens him, removes whatever barriers might have prevented him from taking a girl not fully grown. Her enthusiasm for sharing stories of kelpies makes the transition all the easier, and he tells her (after a moment of visible consideration, as though he debates telling her at all):

"Was that recently? I don't think I've bitten anyone recently."  This is a lie, of course; had the saltwater not cleansed him he'd still have bits of Jhene and Carwyn between his teeth. He does know he hadn't been the kelpie to bite her father - whomever he might be. Ivar does not participate in catch-and-release for stallions, after all. Not the release part, anyway.

There are few kelpies that haunt the shores of Beqanna, and most are family. If this father-biter had attacked recently, perhaps it is a sign that his family has returned at last. Before he can consider the implications of this, Chryseis is answering his question about scales, and phrasing it in such a way that Ivar briefly wonders if fate had put this blue girl in his path to tempt him.

Fate is rarely so kind, and Ivar is usually wary of gifts.

Still, the Riverlands seem empty and Chryseis perfectly innocent. If he does not take this opportunity, what type of hunter would he be.

Though his earlier comment has already made it clear that he is a kelpie (and he is certain now that she has never seen one, or she might have recognized him right away), he still makes an offer to affirm that.

"I could try to bite you, I suppose." The raise of his brows and curious expression suggests this is nothing more than a friendly offer. "But then you might also be a kelpie, and I couldn't leave you to deal with that all alone."  He looks west for a moment, toward his distant Ischia, appearing for a moment as though he is eager to return, as though her time with him might be limited, and the offer bound by time.

[Chryseis]

you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;
______________________
Realization dawns on her at his words, her brown eyes widening as she looks to him. There is a prickle of anticipation that tingles down her spine, but she is not sure why; a brief moment of fear, like a cold sweat that triggers a shiver, but so far he has not given her a reason to be afraid. She can only assume it was just the idea that he could be dangerous that made her feel briefly suspicious, but the young girl has lived a too perfect life to think there was anything actually to be found in the annoying pricks of doubt.

She doesn’t realize there is a reason she would get these gut feelings — that everything her mother has tried to teach her about instincts had actually had a purpose.

”You’re a kelpie, then?” It sounds incredibly stupid, and she realizes that after the words have already left her mouth. She shakes her head, pushing away the flustered feeling at sounding so ignorant, and quickly adding, ”I mean, I don’t think it was you. He said it was a girl.”

She is too curious and kind for her own good. It had never occurred to her that the kelpie girl had bitten her father because that is simply what they do; they hunt and feed, and in some ways, they were far more dangerous than any of the other natural predators they face. They can stand before them, like this, with charming smiles and smooth words, and finds herself forgetting that just moments before, she was scared.

But his suggestion about biting make her apprehensive, and her brow furrows in concern. ”But wouldn’t that hurt?” She glances back at her own soft fur, and then looks again at the shimmering scales that laced the stallions body. Her curiosity was insatiable, something that had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count. A large part of her was just as inquisitive as he appeared to be, wondering if it was indeed the kelpie bite that had caused the change in Leilan.

”Okay,” she agrees with a bold upward tilt of her head, her dark brown eyes narrowing just slightly as she says, ”But not too hard.”

Unfortunately, she was destined to learn some lessons the hard way.

chryseis.
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

Magic 8 ball said yes :|

@[Ivar]

[Ivar]

"No," he confirms, "It wasn't me." If it had been, she'd have not had a father to tell her the story at all. The idea brings an amused smile to the kelpie's pale mouth, that and the image of Deiti and the stallion, Leilan, that she had unsuccessfully attempted to drown. "But yes, I am a kelpie."

He is curious despite himself, wondering what tales might have been spread about his kind. Before meeting the black mare, Ivar had assumed himself alone in the world. His father was there - somewhere - but beyond that there were no others. They were apex predators and there do not to be many in a world so small as Beqanna.

She consents - just like they always do - and Ivar closes the space between them in the time between two heartbeats. It would be easy to rip her open, to tear her blue hide from her red muscle and watching the bright spring grass at their feet turn brilliantly crimson only to fade to rusted brown by the time he roused himself from a satiated stupor.

It would be easy, but it would also be foolish. Ivar is a great many things - monster, murderer, mayhem - but he is certainly not foolish.

"Of course not," he reassures her, and as a single serrated tooth catches the line of her withers as he presses in a hypnotic command to feel no pain. He hopes she does not jump, doesn't throw her head up to run against the edge of his overlong jaws. Resisting that might be slightly too much.

Pulling away quickly, Ivar watches her for a change. He recalls Deiti and the way her soft hair had changed to scales beneath his touch. "You might need to get in the water to see if anything changed," Ivar suggests, glancing at the babbling river behind them for a moment. This time of year it is filled with snowmelt; far from the tropical kelpie's favorite swimming conditions.

@[Chryseis]

[Chryseis]

you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;
______________________
She watches him still with guarded caution, but not daring to show that she was a little bit afraid. She isn’t sure what a kelpie bite is suppose to feel like, but she can’t imagine it’s completely painless.  

A breath has hardly passed her lips, and then he is alongside her. He is much taller than her, and it becomes more apparent with him towering over her. She can feel her pulse accelerating, but it is not in the way her winged prince causes such a reaction; she is nervous, and she hopes he can’t tell.

His touch goes almost unnoticed — it was only because she has been following his every move, along with the sliver of blood on her blue-toned withers, that she knows she has been bitten. She can feel relief flooding over her, the tension slowly ebbing away as her gaze flits to his and she says, ”Oh, that wasn’t so bad!” Her brilliant smile has returned, now that the anticipation of pain had passed. With neck still craned she inspects her coat, staring at it in a scrutinizing manner as she waits for the change to take place.

A sigh of defeat is expelled, but she looks back to the kelpie-man at his words. She follows his gaze to the turbulent waters, contemplating. She has been in water that was too cold before, and while not her favorite, she never had been one to turn down a dare. Scoping out a spot where the current wasn’t as strong, she steps cautiously into the icy waters. Cringing at the biting cold of it, she stops when she is knee deep, turning to face him and say, ”I don’t think the bite worked.” And even if she wouldn’t admit it, she is slightly relieved.

chryseis.
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

@[Ivar]

[Ivar]

Though the rate of her pulse accelerates at his nearness (pleasing Ivar, who has never minded the cause so long as he can enjoy the effect) she doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t give the kelpie any reason to crush her soft throat between his teeth as he pulls her beneath the water. How disappointing.

She smiles and for just a moment he is reminded of Kaliope’s delight at discovering the coral reefs to the west of Ischia. This might have softened another creature, but Ivar is thinking how his daughter might enjoy having someone else her age on the island. If she doesn’t, perhaps the easily trusting blue girl might make good sport for either of his sons.  

‘That wasn’t so bad’, she exclaims, and the piebald stallion’s response is just to smile in bemusement, as though of course it wasn’t bad: did she think him a monster?

When she moves toward the water he is careful to keep back, suppressing the urge to crowd her into the water, to drive her deeper and pull her under. Instead he stay on the bank, watching her for any indication of change. He had not pressed Deiti for the details of Leilan’s transformation, but the turning of Isobell had a few more components than a simple nip on the neck and standing knee-deep in water. Fortunately for Chryseis, Ivar is uninterested in turning her in quite the same way. At least this year. Perhaps next.

“I suppose not everyone is cut out to be a kelpie.” He replies, a casual shrug rolling his pale shoulders. “It’s a pity,” he adds after a moment of contemplation, “I think you’d have enjoyed swimming in Ischia. My children might have been able to show you the coral caves.”

You will come to Ischia, is the hypnotic command that comes as he wades into the water and his tail flicks against her for just the briefest moment. There’s no timing to his command – he has learned that demands least likely to be recognized by the mind of prey as ‘foreign’ are those that are vague. To bring her back now might require a fuss, and even in the still riverlands there is always the chance of eyes in the shadows. 

@[Chryseis]