She had visited Tephra, and since she was so near her curiosity leads her to Ischia. The damn blue and gold stag enters her mind every now and then. He was so damn cocky, but also nonchalant.
He was the opposite of Sinner, always willing to talk, perhaps more than he should. Though she did not mind her partners personality, they meshed well together seeming there romantic relationship did not exist.
The dapple mares ruby hooves reach the sandy shore, her pelt much less cold this late spring, versus her last visit. She peers around, this time she steps further into the kingdom. She feels as though Ivar and her have met before, I mean he offered her a home with Ischia.
Though, that is not why she is her, the wooded kingdom will always be hers. Instead she just seeks out a conversation, to further indulge herself with the intriguing stallion, the one who peeks into her head every now and then, uninvited.
@[Ivar]
Ivar has never shared responsibility with anyone. He's made Isobell the Khaleesi to his Khal because she wanted it, and because he suspected it would entice her to stay, not because he considers her his equal. She is better than most of the others, of course, and does not hesitate to remind them of this. The image of Jhene quaking before his piebald mate brings an amused quirk to the kelpie's mouth.
Ahead of him, the water spreads wide and teal and without end. Soft crests of white foam cap the waves, which are tamer here than in some of the bays. (The waterwalkers loved those bays, where riding the waves was sport.) The sun is high in the cerulean sky, and it beams down on his scaled back and dries the damp sand at his hooves. Seawater still drips from the thickest tangles of his mane, but he has been sunning himself for an hour or so, and the languid motion in the way he turns toward the flicker of movement at the corner of his eye.
Well-fed, Ivar is even lazier than usual on this spring day. The smile with which he greets the dappled Mary is affable, and only his golden eyes flick quickly, tracing the slimmer figure she presents. Their last meeting had been months past, and it seems she's left the child she carried at that time back in Sylva this afternoon. Ivar is intrigued, and makes no secret of his interest in the grey mare.
"I hope this means you've decided to take me up on my offer." He says as he steps forward, shaking the dark mane that has dried salt stiff as he resettles his weight where's he's come to stand a pace away. "I promise Ischia is superior to Sylva in every way."
@[Mary]
She didn't have to call out this time, seems he enjoyed the water a bit too much. She turns around as the blue and gold king finds her, he greets her with a question.
Hoping she was here to stay, like he insists. She does not respond, instead she allows a grin to tug at her lips. He was persistent, but she would never leave her home, she was the queen after all. As he steps forward he shakes his mane, the scent of the oceans salt wafts around.
With only a pace between them he speaks again, this time promising Ischia is superior to Sylva. She cocks her eye towards the cocky bastard before responding to him. And what do I get for staying? Her gaze finds his, she slowly presses her body against his as she circles him, coming back to her original spot she nudges his cheek before placing a pace between them once again.
Alas, there is nothing you can offer me that is superior to Sylva. She was the queen afterall, and her relationship with Sinner was unlike the rulers around here. All of them lovers, but they weren't, even if they shared a child together.
Her gaze scans the island, catching more detail then her last visit. Ischia certainly is a nice kingdom, but I much prefer my forest, this scenery has nothing on my autumn home. She did come to visit Ivar, but certainly not to leave the kingdom she is ever so loyal too.
She finds his gaze once again, did he only seek her out to add her to his herd of whores? She had better things to do as the queen of Sylva. She did not seek out a relationship, nor his love, more than anything just something to keep her occupied. To find out why the fuck he keeps popping into her mind when she doesn't want him there.
@[Ivar]
Women who know what they want have always been Ivar's favorite. Perhaps it explains his penchant for royalty - strong minded females who do not hesitate to pursue what they want. He knows from experience that they are usually unwilling to abandon their thrones, but that has not diminished his efforts.
Perhaps Mary will be the first, he thinks. She is the first that has been so forward in her actions: both in coming to Ischia and the way she presses her dapple figure against his. Warm and soft, he is reluctant to let her put distance between them again, but other than a muzzle against her shoulder as she pulls away, the piebald kelpie makes no effort to keep her near.
What do I get for staying, she asks, and Ivar replies with a wide grin. She won't leave empty handed, that is for certain, and that is if she leaves at all. Perhaps he will keep her here on Ischia. She'd fight it, he is quite certain, and he has always enjoyed a good fight. The kelpie has been careful in the past to keep his less savory behaviors out of the public eye, but he wonders if capturing Mary might not be worth the hassle.
"All you're seeing now is the western beach," he tells her with a smile and amusement-narrowed eyes. "There's much more to Ischia than meets the eye."
"Why don't I show you the things you missed on your diplomatic visit?" He offers, taking a step forward to once again reduce the space between them. "Perhaps we'll find you a nice souvenir, or even a reason to stay." Ivar reaches out to rest his muzzle along the curve of her shoulder, bold and presumptuous, but most curious as to how she'll react.
@[Mary]
He was still a stranger, so much about him she didn't know. Still, his arrogance attracts her, wanting to know more about him. She finds that her 'type' is the opposite of what her father would want, making her even more interested in Ivar.
His muzzle touches her shoulder for a moment, before leaving. She wants more, but it was much more fun to play a game, giving in wouldn't be an option at this point.
He breaks the silence drawing her attention back to his gaze from his blue body. He notes that all they are seeing is the beach, his attempt to keep her here. A small grin tugs at her maw as he mentions showing her around, things she hadn't seen the last time she came.
Her eyes wandered him one last time before she agrees. It still won't change my mind, but yes, I would enjoy seeing more of Ischia. Her grin remains large his muzzle rests on her shoulder. She lowers her head, her muzzle presses against his, she breaths in his salty scent for a few breaths before pulling back.
She moves forward brushing gainst him, her dapple pelt melts into a matching blue and white pattern to his own. She chuckles as her body passes his with a gentle flick of her tail to his hind quarters. She quickly trots off towards the heart of Ischia, briefly glancing back to look for Ivar.
@[Ivar]
“I think you underestimate how persuasive I can be,” the kelpie replies with a laugh as Mary pulls ahead of him. The dark haired stallion watches with intrigue as the pewter hide of the mare beside him transforms into a mirror of his own patchwork hide. Ivar’s handsome grin flickers for the barest moment, but is back in place long before it can be seen by the young monarch. The kelpie is wary of magic. There is much chicanery in this world, and Ivar knows that his is not the most powerful. While he never doubts his teeth, there are things in this world that are even more dangerous than a hungry beast. Ivar has not survived this long without an appropriate dose of caution.
It occurs to him that perhaps Mary should be treated more carefully.
A pity, he thinks as he nips at her flicking tail, he’d been imagining how she would look resting at the bottom of the atoll. Might as well have what fun he can, Ivar reasons. Convincing Mary to stay forever has just become much more difficult, so he wonders if he might try to convince her to stay long enough. He allows Mary to lead the way into the forest, content to follow and appreciate the view. They are headed toward the waterfall, he knows, the freshwater pool where kelpies have been known to gather. He knows that Deiti tends to lurk these waters and hopes that the dark-eyed enchantress is elsewhere this summer afternoon.
As they move along the trail, Ivar remains just behind Mary’s shoulder, allowing her to guide their travel along the sandy path. His scaled shoulder brushes against her side every now and again, and when it happens his mind tends to wander. They have a bit of distance to cover before they see anything worth pausing for, so Ivar asks: “What do you have in Sylva that you couldn’t have here?” His expression is curious were she to glance back at him, and the kelpie’s shoulder presses more firmly against her ribs, a reminder of his presence.
@[Mary]
Mary is very stubborn, quiet possibly how she finds herself wearing the crown today. Though Ivar is not scared off so easily, instead he replies that she doesn't know how persuasive he can be. A smirk and a quick laugh escapes her maw, he certainly was smooth with his words.
Her and Sinner shared similar minds, and even a child, but it was for the strength of the kingdom. The two share no love, and he has even found himself a new playmate. It was only normal to seek out attention, being desired is fun afterall.
She is playful as she explores further into Ischia, he stays at her shoulder, brushing against her here and there. She leans into his touch when he does, savoring the moment, allowing his thoughts to linger as she does so.
As they walk, Ivar speaks up, breaking the silence. He asks what she has in Sylva that she couldn't have here. A humble laugh escapes her maw, the silence was due to the thoughts in his mind. She continues to walk, but falls back so they are side to side, her gaze finding his.
Simple, a crown. He has a queen already, and dethrowning one isn't so easy, she should know. Even if he offered the throne to her, she could never give up the life she has in Sylva, the strong relationship she shares with Sinner.
Mary nuzzles his shoulder tenderly, This is fun Ivar, why ruin what we have? She wouldn't ask him to dethrown his queen, they could still have fun with her around. Ischia wasn't so far from Sylva...Besides, he wasn't one for love was he? It was perfect, they could come together for a night of fun, and return to there kingdoms, like seperate lives.
@[Ivar] <3
Ischia is neither a large nor a powerful territory, but it is by far the most appealing one Ivar has come across. He finds it far preferable to the woods where Mary rules, and her stubborn refusal to abandon the fiery woods in favor of year round paradise puzzles him. Sylva is no more powerful than Ischia (at last in Ivar’s mind) and he cannot imagine it is love for her co-ruler that binds her there. Rather than scowl in frustration, the piebald stallion runs his pale muszle along the edge of Mary’s blue shoulder.
“Queen of Ischia is not a title that appeals to you?” He asks. It is not one he can offer – at least not truthfully. Tephra is the kingdom of the West, after all, and Ivar merely a khal of a sparsely populated territory. The buckskin Magnus had not been the sort that Ivar would make an enemy of, but there are few lines he would not cross in pursuit of prey. Mary intrigues him. Like all things he finds curious, he wishes to keep her, and the reasoning behind that does not always translate well to the strong-minded, spirited women that he intends to pursue.
“And what exactly do we have?” The kelpie replies, his brows lifted. His tone is teasing, and he pauses his forward movement for a moment, and runs his cheek against the curve of her side until he can nip gently at her flank. There’s a playfyl question in his eyes, but they are still far from the water. Best to wait until they are closer, he knows, until he knows that he has the advantage.
@[Mary]
He dangles the crown to Ischia before her, and her gaze quickly flicks to him. Does he think his current queen would bow down so easily? Why would he go to such extreme measures to keep her here?
Haven't you already crowned one? She wasn't dumb, he had others flocking to him. She wasn't here to steal his heart, because she didn't think that is possible. Regardless, she asks simply for knowledge, her child was Sylvan born, and she would be damned if her rights to the throne were ever stripped. And lastly, her loyalty lies with her home kingdom, her co-ruler who has a similar way of thinking.
The idea of moving to Ischia does not settle well with her. Should things take a turn for the worst, she would consider it. But she doesn't see that happening in her future.
They continued to walk, and she scans Ischia. The kingdom was green much like her own home, but it was different. The greenery all seemed to be linked to water, moss, grass, algae? It was beautiful here, she couldn't deny it, but it wasn't home. The beautiful orange and red hues certainly didn't flourish here like in Sylva.
Her gaze turns back to Ivar from the scenery when his voice enters her ears. What exactly do we have? He asks a tricky question that leaves a smile on her maw. Other than the man who she can't get out of her head? She wasn't sure exactly...
Well She pauses carefully selecting her next words. What do you want us to be? She inquires as she puts there trip on a momentary pause. He glides his cheek against her, gently nipping at her flank. His touch send shivers through her body, his touch was different from any other she experienced. There was more feelings involved, more desire, even on her end. She extends her neck and gently nips at his neck, the question still remains, what relationship did he expect between them?
@[Ivar]
Mary asks if he doesn’t already have a queen, and kelpie’s lips twist in a half-smile.
“Ischia has no queen,” he tells her, and while his voice is edged with disappointment it is not at the lack of a female monarch, but rather at the absence of a throne for one to sit upon. “We are but a humble territory, after all.” There’s nothing humble about him, but he is also less than passionate about the lack of a throne than Mary seems to be.
“You already share power with Sinner,” adds the kelpie, sidling closer to the tobiano mare as they walk. “Surely it’s not much different.”
It is different, he knows, but not in a way that matters to Ivar. He has given his consorts their titles to keep them happy, though he is just as inclined to take them away when he is feeling less generous. The title of Khaleesi that he has given to Isobell marks her as unique from the rest, but he’d give Mary her own rank if that was what it took to keep her.
The color shifting mare turns his question of their relationship back to him without giving him the answer he’d requested. Ivar’s frustration at Mary’s refusal to answer is mitigated only by her physical proximity. The feel of her pressed against him is soothing, and the way she reaches toward him distracts the kelpie from the long-term problem of keeping her in Ischia. Perhaps it is better to focus on short term satisfaction for the time being.
“I’d settle for lovers,” he says into the curve of her throat. Her pulse thrums brightly beneath the thin skin of her neck, but his serrated teeth remain shielded behind his pale lips as he slides his muzzle from her throat to her withers. Transferring his own lust is easy; he means to fan the flame of her desire with his hypnosis. The idea of pulling her into the warm water of one of Ischia’s many lagoons is appealing, but his time on land weakens his need for slaughter. Sending her back satisfied to Sylva would surely be enough for his pride.
Ivar traces the pattern of white and blue that Mary has donned for him, and he nips softly at the point of her hip and the rise of her flank. “But then you might not want to go back to Sylva,” the stallion continues his previous thought aloud as he rounds the young ruler. His chest presses against her hindquarters much as he presses lust into her mind, adding: “Or I might not let you go.” with a dark-eyed smile.
@[Mary]
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