11-20-2018, 08:16 PM
"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]
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]