[open] pass the potion

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take When she tells him she does not mind the spiders, Ivar responds by rolling his shoulders in the semblance of a shrug. He does not mind them either, his body language says; he was simply making conversation. “Ischia,” he responds to the mare’s query about where he is from, encouraged by the curiosity she shows. “My name is Ivar.” Then something moves at the corner of his vision, another golden mare who has arrived from downwind of them, the sound of her footfalls hidden by the chatter of the stream. Ivar turns to look up at her, his curious eyes lingering on the brightly colored marking. It’s a pity the skins waste away so quickly. They are often more colorful than the bits that he is able to preserve. The palomino comes closer, drinking from the water without fear, and addresses them both with a smile and a hello. A third mare joins them not long afterward, and her spots and the briney scent of the Nerinian sea on her skin are nearly as alluring as the water. Nearly, but not quite, and so the kelpie remains where he is, the water rippling around his scaled legs. The spotted one welcomes the antlered one to Beqanna, though still the pink-haired mare moves a little farther away before answering with a single word that he assumes must be her name. Crowded by the three of them, he wonders, or just wary by nature? There is silence then, which Ivar breaks just before it grows uncomfortable. “I am from Ischia,” he repeats, though this time it is said for all of their company and not simply the palomino in the water. “Here to find someone in need of a home. If white sand beaches, endless summers, and a few other mares to keep you company sound at all appealing, perhaps that someone might be you?” The kelpie speaks casually, the offer seeming simple. And it is, because while he doesn’t mention what else might wait for her in Ischia, it’s quite possible nothing does. It will not be a struggle to keep her alive long enough to see if she can bear him kelpie children, not with how disappointing this years crop of foals has been. His better children will eat well, and Bru will be in little danger, tucked away safe in paradise. His mind wanders as he waits for an answer, and he decides that he will visit Nerine soon. Is it a coincidence that woman is both spotted and from Nerine, or has fate favored him yet again? Might this be another of Breckin’s daughters, he wonders? He had gotten rid of the woman after the two girls she bore him lacked any kelpie attributes, and while the satisfaction of drowning her is one of his favorite memories, he thinks that he would not mind making more with the golden-maned appaloosa. @[Beryl] @[Eurwen] @[Brujeria] and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind