[private] could i use you as a warning sign | oceane, castile, isobell

[Oceane]

for the call of the running tide

She agrees to escort Ivar to Loess with a small acquiescing smile twisting up the corners of her lips, as if she is Beqanna's tour guide and it is her duty to gracefully provide historic information and fun facts about the lands through which they pass. She feels a twinge in her stomach as she takes to the sky, and though the opaline woman lingers on this feeling, she's ultimately unable to place why, exactly, she may be feeling just a tad bit off.

She pushes it into the back of her mind with a dismissive toss of her head. She settles into flight, joyously circling through thermals and dipping low to the churning ocean water each time Ivar breaches the surface. The scent of the seawater is welcome in her lungs; she knows, too, she will smell of it for days to come as the wake from her kelpie companion splashes up and into her wind-blown forelock and feathers.

Oceane is hit with another pang of discomfort as they near the halfway mark of their journey. She rises higher into the sky, coaxing fresh air into her lungs.

Did Isobell send you here?

The predatory curve of Ivar's lips flashes into the pegasi's mind. She nearly gasps at the returned memory, at the reminder of the way she'd frozen beneath the kelpie's touch. Thankful to have ascended as far as she had, perhaps under the guise of observing how far they have until they reached Loess's southern shore, Oceane flicks her gilded eyes downward to observe the tatter-finned kelpie darting beneath the waves. Dread fills her stomach like hot acid.

But she continues to smile, as if her life depends on it. Because it probably does. The opalescent woman even swoops low to the sea again, her flight feathers spread wide, continuing the charade of cavorting with the painted beast as they journey to her home.

I could teach you how to swim with the whales.

She shivers as the next memory resurfaces, at the confidence behind the way he'd threatened her life. She would have had no say in it if he'd told her to harm herself - to drown herself in the ocean deep - she knows that now. His ability to tell her to stand still, be quiet was the tip of the toxic iceberg.

And, as is customary for a scholarly mind, Oceane grows intrigued by his abilities despite the bile that churns in the pit of her stomach. It's met with worry. For herself, for Isobell, for Loess. Nevertheless, she forces something akin to joyous laughter from her ajar maw as she meets the kelpie on the southern shore of her home. Her hooves meet the red dirt with practiced skill, churning it minimally as she circles back to face the now-four-legged Ivar as he rises from the sea.

"It's my pleasure," she responds to his thanks, bordering on sweet in response to his charming smile, "I'm quite fond of the foothills. I believe everyone should have a chance to see them." Oceane returns her own smile to him, her ears flicking in the kelpie's direction and then behind her, hopeful for any noise that may indicate a fellow resident nearby. Cocking her head to the side pensively at his inquiry, Oceane takes a moment to respond - more to settle her breath and her pounding heart than anything else. Thankfully, she can blame the exertion from her flight for both of these things, and not the fear that threatens to claw out of her mouth.

"Mmmm... perhaps nearly half a year now, or a little more."

She turns, having suddenly decided what she will do with the kelpie stallion, and sets off into the territory at a brisk trot. She throws a coy smile over her shoulder at Ivar and beckons him to follow. "Come! You must see the hot springs. I'm not usually inclined to swim, but it was quite enjoyable during the winter." Oceane takes special care to keep a comfortable distance between them - one that would not alert him to her discomfort, but also one that would not allow him to simply reach out and touch her again.

She leads him further into Loess and towards the hot springs where she had last seen her King, hoping beyond hope that Castile will catch her scent on the breeze.

---

@[Castile], @[Ivar], @[Isobell] | speech