12-10-2018, 07:57 AM
It is the scent of the forest that catches his attention, musty and dark. He has not thought of Sylva in years, but the slim mare that passes by carries the smell of his childhood home in the long sweep of her mane her thin and patchy coat. Sick, like so many others, but a predator prefers the weak and he leaves his shaded copse to interrupt the conversation that she begins with a brown-eyed roan. Though he had come up to Mary, the kelpie’s attention has already shifted to the girl that the plagued mare is attempting to recruit.
He is forward in his inspection, golden eyes flicking lazily across Naia’s figure, but he does not hide the appreciation of what he has seen. On another man his grin might have been lecherous, but Ivar’s charm is omnipresent – as is the flash of sharp white teeth when he grins. Despite her apparent youth, the chestnut mare is hard muscled and clearly wary.
A challenge then.
Ivar has always enjoyed a challenge.
“Who rules Sylva these days?” He asks Mary, glancing away from Naia to take another look at the green mare. From the way she holds herself, the kelpie suspects it might be this young mare’s parent. It doesn’t occur to him that it might be Mary herself (even though he’d met younger monarchs), and the idea of toying with Sylva by snatching away their princess is appealing. He’s interrupted Mary’s attempt to recruit Naia but it doesn’t occur to him to apologize for butting in – that is simply not in his nature.
“We could use a few more warriors in Ischia,” he tells Naia casually. “You could come, look around.” There is little to sea but endless tropical paradise, sunshine, and the waves, but that is enough for Ivar. “You could come too,” he adds with a smile to Mary.
@[Naia]
@[Mary]
He is forward in his inspection, golden eyes flicking lazily across Naia’s figure, but he does not hide the appreciation of what he has seen. On another man his grin might have been lecherous, but Ivar’s charm is omnipresent – as is the flash of sharp white teeth when he grins. Despite her apparent youth, the chestnut mare is hard muscled and clearly wary.
A challenge then.
Ivar has always enjoyed a challenge.
“Who rules Sylva these days?” He asks Mary, glancing away from Naia to take another look at the green mare. From the way she holds herself, the kelpie suspects it might be this young mare’s parent. It doesn’t occur to him that it might be Mary herself (even though he’d met younger monarchs), and the idea of toying with Sylva by snatching away their princess is appealing. He’s interrupted Mary’s attempt to recruit Naia but it doesn’t occur to him to apologize for butting in – that is simply not in his nature.
“We could use a few more warriors in Ischia,” he tells Naia casually. “You could come, look around.” There is little to sea but endless tropical paradise, sunshine, and the waves, but that is enough for Ivar. “You could come too,” he adds with a smile to Mary.
@[Naia]
@[Mary]