12-29-2018, 10:35 AM
It is not difficult for the kelpie to guess who might be within the cave, even if he had not had her description to go by, given by a babbling dark-eyed mare who he’d soothed to silence.
There is no one quite like Yidhra, and when he finds her toying with the water at her feet, a satisfied smile spreads across his toothsome mouth. A quick twist of his head, back and forth, rubs the scales of his throat against each other. The place she’d knicked with her beak has nearly healed, but the scales are dark and irregular, something he can feel each time he turns his head in a particular way. He has wondered, from time to time, if perhaps it’s not much different from the bite he marks his women with.
Seeing it on Yidhra brings a hum of satisfaction as he presses his pale muzzle against it, eyeing the curious barbs of her myriad of damp tentacles as he does.
“Back so soon?” He asks with a quirked brow. Though he’d like to think the mottled mare has come to stay, she’d never made secret that she is pulled elsewhere. It is Ivar’s bad luck to that the only women who refuse to break as they should are those he finds most delightful, but he has never had cause to complain otherwise, especially when it comes to the cryptic creature lounging in his cave.
“To what do I owe this visit?” Ivar inquires, his metallic eyes half-shielded by the dark fall of his tangled mane. “Have you given up on your wasteland at last, and come to live in the sea?” She hasn’t – at least not in his sea – but Ivar hopes that her answer will be amusing. Yidhra has already proven herself a more worldly and moral creature than Ivar, and he finds her altrisum and dedication to a cure to the plague fascinating, even if it is less important than his own interests.
@[Yidhra]
There is no one quite like Yidhra, and when he finds her toying with the water at her feet, a satisfied smile spreads across his toothsome mouth. A quick twist of his head, back and forth, rubs the scales of his throat against each other. The place she’d knicked with her beak has nearly healed, but the scales are dark and irregular, something he can feel each time he turns his head in a particular way. He has wondered, from time to time, if perhaps it’s not much different from the bite he marks his women with.
Seeing it on Yidhra brings a hum of satisfaction as he presses his pale muzzle against it, eyeing the curious barbs of her myriad of damp tentacles as he does.
“Back so soon?” He asks with a quirked brow. Though he’d like to think the mottled mare has come to stay, she’d never made secret that she is pulled elsewhere. It is Ivar’s bad luck to that the only women who refuse to break as they should are those he finds most delightful, but he has never had cause to complain otherwise, especially when it comes to the cryptic creature lounging in his cave.
“To what do I owe this visit?” Ivar inquires, his metallic eyes half-shielded by the dark fall of his tangled mane. “Have you given up on your wasteland at last, and come to live in the sea?” She hasn’t – at least not in his sea – but Ivar hopes that her answer will be amusing. Yidhra has already proven herself a more worldly and moral creature than Ivar, and he finds her altrisum and dedication to a cure to the plague fascinating, even if it is less important than his own interests.
@[Yidhra]