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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind; aodhan
    #1

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
    Leaving the leather winged mare to whatever it is she does when they are apart, the blue tobiano makes his way through the sparse greenery at the heart of his island. The tropical forest is not large – certainly not compared to the main island of Ischia, but at least a half-hour passes before he emerges into the sunshine along his southern shore.

    The setting sun to the west is caught behind the tallest of Ischia’s mountains. Ivar smiles to himself at calling them mountains; there was a time when something that tall wasn’t even a foothill. He remembers this, even if the exact memory of Hyaline is fogged by the passage of time. It’s been ages since the piebald creature had seen them; he often forgets that time passes at all. (He’s been on this island for seven years, and in Ischia nearly fifteen). Ivar doesn’t mind this, nor does he care much that one day is very like the one before it, and little altered from any ahead.

    He counts the passage of time with Isobell’s children, and there have not been any for several springs. He’d humored her, and not drowned the black filly that was certainly not his after she’d taken an unsanctioned visit to Loess, and yet still she rebuffed his advances. Though she claims it is his occasional remarks that he’s not seen Angelique, and that perhaps she’d been eaten by one of her better siblings, Ivar is not convinced. She’d not turned him down this morning (finally), and after his foray into the jungle with Wrena, the bright-eyed kelpie is feeling remarkably peaceable on this warm autumn evening.

    He slips into the water, allowing the water to lull him to sleep, and wakes only when his back scrapes against the shallows. Ivar is not certain where he’s drifted to while asleep, and he slowly rolls over, yawning, to orient himself to the beach. The sun has set further still, leaving only a dim line of orange in the west, and most of the beach around him cast into shadow.



    and i'll use you as a warning sign
    that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind


    @[anyone]
    he fell asleep in the water and drifted so they can be wherever in ischia
    Reply
    #2
    Aodhán

    His position on the branches is an easy one, and a lazy one too. He’d taken his now-familiar parrot shape, because small animals get noticed less and notice all the same, or even more. Although right then and there he would not have noticed much right away, since his eyes were close and the sun was warm on his feathers.

    The soft bump of the kelpie towards the beach could have been anything from a sea creature to a log of driftwood; only when the lapping water has changed in tone long enough, does the parrot open his eyes to see what landed on his figurative doorstep. Opens them wider when it is large and largely horse-shaped. A fish-male? That’s something. Something he’s never seen before, and he’s seen -and tried- plenty.

    The male before him is enchantingly beautiful, which he can admit safely from this distance - though he suspects from the blue and gold-rimmed male’s muscled body that he may also be a predator - a lulled one however, but may still be dangerous.

    Aodhán wonders what he’d make of the copycat.

    His decision to flutter down is made long before he decided to act; landing with four hooves on the sand, the gold-spotted baroque horse nears the kelpie casually. ”I’ve never seen you before,” he outs, the curiosity clear in his voice. ”Have you been around Ischia long?”

    from the ashes a fire shall be woken



    @[Ivar] so Aodhan is maybe not that straight I guess
    Reply
    #3

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
    of how much to give and how much to take
    He opens and closes his mouth a few more times, swallowing the sleep from it and licking at the protruding teeth that line his overlong jaw. The kelpie blinks his golden eyes slowly, and then a second time more quickly. The sleep slips away as he takes in the unfamiliar shoreline. His blue ears turn forward, then flick down the opposite direction and back out to sea. He’s no idea where he is at all, Ivar realizes, and there are no familiar scents to guide him. The piebald creature takes in a deep breath, and then another. He is remarkably still in the water, though his brilliant coloring makes him impossible to miss. Camouflage is not how a kelpie hunts.

    He sees the motion of fluttering wings and reacts long before the transformed creature lands on the shore. He no longer lounges in the shallows and instead stands on four white legs. He does not change position at all, and there is nothing in the scowl on his face that suggests he doesn’t move because he can’t quite recall how to move forward on four legs. It has been some time since he came to land, Ivar thinks, and the spotted stallion’s query is eerily close to his own thoughts. He’s probably got some sort of mind magic in addition to that transforming business, the kelpie thinks, and immediately regrets having drifted from his home. This is not his first stroke of bad luck in recent months, and the piebald creature begins to wonder if it is not coincidence.

    First the two freaks in the Field, then the nereid with a chip on her shoulder, and now this shapeshifter. It is the thought of that second that stills his frustration. Perhaps this is an opportunity. Ivar still scowls in the general direction of the baroque stallion, but instead of typical mockery, the kelpie instead says: “I’ve been trying to find the nereid Aquaria,” Ivar tells him. “I’ve failed to find Eva, and I hear that Aquaria is her second. I have an issue I need them to address.” Ivar speaks as a Beachmaster, which he is not even sure is still a title he holds. Who knows what foolishness these women leaders have gotten up to while he remained secluded on his smaller island?



    and i'll use you as a warning sign
    that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind


    @[Aodhan]
    Reply
    #4
    Aodhán

    Strange, this stranger. Aodhán had not expected him to go over an introduction after naming the male an unknown; both stallions then, have lived here long enough, if the spotted male is to deduce this from the other male’s speech. As charming as the male is though, he cannot answer his question. ”Haven’t spoken to her in a while, either. And I doubt she shows anyone but her children exactly where she lives.” he shakes his head. As much as he thought that in time he would be friends with the creamy nereid and his sister-in-law-or-such, he also knows they didn’t naturally click as well as he did with Eva, and she hadn’t entrusted him with the exact location. And honestly, he didn't need to know. He could very well defend his own, by himself.

    On that note, he tilts his head. ”But perhaps I can help you with the issue?” His bright emerald orbs take in the other male, and he doesn’t truly mind spending a bit of time with such a sight; besides, if there is an issue on any Ischian soil, he felt like he should know as well.

    He nods vaguely to their surroundings. ”Name’s Aodhán, by the way. This here, is the sand patch directly north of what I’ve named Skye. You must be from the north then?” Not that there’s much to it, Skye or the sandbank, but it clears any confusion between them about their statuses if there was one - not many males are in Ischia at all, each only with their own tiny responsibilities. He knows Tywyll - or rather Carwyn - well enough to know that he is no kelpie, and he knows that Brennen is a bay winged magician. While the latter could disguise as this merman, he doesn’t think he would, from what he has been told and had vaguely noted of him as a child in Nerine, anyway. So if this man is a Beachmaster like he seems to be, there is only one other island left.

    Besides, him coming from the northern island is the most in line with the currents of these waters, this time of year.

    from the ashes a fire shall be woken



    @[Ivar]
    Reply
    #5

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
    of how much to give and how much to take
    Ivar has very little need for introductions. As a creature who dwells beneath the sea and is driven by instinct, he has little need for conversation at all. This is the fourth stranger that he has met in as many weeks, Ivar realizes, and scowls. He’s been getting out far too much of late.

    Though he is, at times, an overconfident hunter, the kelpie is also possessed of an abundance of caution. That includes wariness of creatures with unnatural abilities. Creatures like the spotted now-stallion who otherwise seem harmless. Harmless and not even helpful, Ivar thinks, not bothering to hide the low growl of frustration at the other’s answer.  Well, mostly not helpful. He knows she has children now, at least. Children can be useful. He’s already begun to formulate a plan when a voice breaks through his thoughts.

    Perhaps I can help you with the issue, the voice offers, and for a moment Ivar wonders exactly how the man expects to be useful during a kidnapping.

    But no, Ivar thinks. He means the issue Ivar had fabricated as a reason to find Aquaria’s home via land routes (escape routes). He introduces himself, and though he describes their location it is as unhelpful as the rest of the conversation. Ivar has no idea what or where Skye is. Isobell would recognize it as one of the other sister islands, but that is because she still cares about things like diplomacy and keeping up with the neighbors. Ivar has long since abandoned any interest in such things, if he’s ever truly had any at all.

    Ivar had slowly shaken his head at the offer of help, and when Aodhan asks if he is from the north, the golden-eyed stallion affixes him with a long stare. It isn’t threatening, not really, not when they have nothing to fight over. There are no women here, and Ivar has no desire to expand his territory. Still, the calculating gaze is not at all friendly.

    Eventually he does speak, and while what he says does seem to contradict his refusal of aid, it also sounds sincere. “I’m look for a nereid. Teal, with silver hair and purple flowers” (they might actually be pink, he thinks, or even blue. It doesn’t really matter) “I’ve not been able to find her for a while, and I was curious if any of the others had seen her.” The ‘others’ being the other nereids, of course.



    and i'll use you as a warning sign
    that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind


    @[Aodhan]
    Reply
    #6
    Aodhán

    The blue tobiano doesn’t give a name in return - in fact he seems not all that interested in Aodhán. Wondering what does interest the predatory merman instead, the spotted baroque takes in the other’s stance, and questions. Nereid this, nereid that. It would be Eva, Aquaria, or perhaps Adria then that he wants to meet, and not a male. No, not at all.

    Debating this for a moment, he notices that it feels like he’s talking to a wall - so he shuts up, tail lashing as he hears the man’s new inquiry. First he needs no help, or doesn’t want it, then he describes the one nereid who Aodhán has never seen: teal and silver?

    The headshake is copied, slowly and almost deliberately so, feeling as if the other male is trying to draw him out. ”I can keep an eye out for someone with that description, if you want.” Somehow he expects a negative reaction, however. The gold-rimmed tobiano may be handsome, but it seems he wants as little to do with the spotted male as possible. That is a bigger disappointment than he wants to admit; even Velkan and he were quite able to be good friends, resonating on some level at least - their shared fascination for a certain nereid not an obstacle, but common ground. But for this man, it seemed the opposite.

    He tilts his head at the thoughtful-looking tobiano; then, he finds a stupid idea in his head that he can’t ignore. First, he changes color, then he adds the scales, and lastly, his gender. His voice changes in the latter progress, as he is now a she - a teal nereid, silvery mane draping down her neck, though without the power over the water element - something he never was or would be able to copy. ”She looks like this?” her voice is teasing, and her shape just as much - she may have a little of an exaggerated hip shape. She is challenging him, for sure, moving sideway just a bit - she wants to know if the male prefers, indeed, a pretty female over a pretty male.

    from the ashes a fire shall be woken



    @[Ivar] idek
    Reply
    #7

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
    of how much to give and how much to take
    Aodhan offers to keep an eye out, a rather kind offer from a complete stranger, and one that is met with a slightly narrowed gaze. He’d best not mean to keep an eye out and take her for himself, Ivar thinks. Evia is his.

    “Your shifting is making me nauseous.” Ivar says flatly, his gaze flicking away from Aodhan as the teal and silver coloring overtake the gold-spangled white. “Just pick a damn shape.” He does not see the scales sprout or the cresty stallion’s neck grow slim or his hips wider. He’s even taken a step back into the water, ready to leave this unfamiliar bay.

    Then he hears a different voice. It’s not Evia’s, though Aodhan now wears a decent mimic of the woman’s coloring. He’s missing the flowers though, and he’s gotten the slender shape of the Nereid all wrong. Ivar rather likes that she is small and slim and caves so quickly to his pursuits. The mare in front of him now – or at least the creature wearing the shape of a mare – does not look like the type to give in easily.

    She looks delicious, if Ivar is honest with himself – at he always is. But she is also not what she appears and that is enough to sour much of the hunger that rises. Much, but not all. It would be fun to drown a magician after all. He’s never done it before, but as his golden eyes narrow at the teal nereid, he weighs the possibility.

    No, he decides with a flick of his horse-hair tail. No.

    For all his predatory nature there is some prey that is not worth the effort. He does not know these waters and prefers to hunt in those he does. Nor does he know the limits of the magician in front of him. For all Ivar knows, he can witch the water like Aquaria has, and the kelpie is not in the mood for that so soon.

    “Not quite,” he answers, allowing the soft shape of the disguise creature to quell some of the irritation. He can still look, even if he doesn’t touch for fear of contamination. “She is not so well-endowed.”

    @[Aodhan]


    and i'll use you as a warning sign
    that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
    Reply
    #8
    Aodhán

    The voluptuous teal mare smiles knowingly at the male - her voice was all that was needed to regain his attention, after all. That was really the question that needed answering, though she realizes quickly that the look in the sapphire tobiano’s eye is wary and hesitant.

    Pick a damn shape, he’d said. A light chuckle follows from the now teal mare’s throat. ”What’s to say this isn’t my natural shape?” She flicks her silver tail, very subtly diminishing her height by a bit, because it feels more feminine to do so; though she keeps the hips - if she’d tried to match the mare he’s looking for right before his eyes until it was just right, she believes he would be on the run before the transformation was complete. For now, this would have to do.

    The thought crosses her mind briefly, to even change into Aquaria - the nereid had left and impression and an imprint on Aodhán-the-wad-of-kelp at the time, and she’s pretty sure she can mimic the nereid better than the unknown mare. How badly would it mess with this man’s head if she did it? But no, not now, she thinks; he’s leaving, and any new shape changes would only hasten his decision to do so.

    Not so well-endowed. The mare winks at the kelpie. ”I hope you don’t mind.” She’d rather keep her soft, round form - it seems to satisfy him, and she certainly has nothing better to do anyway.

    from the ashes a fire shall be woken



    @[Ivar]
    Reply
    #9

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
    of how much to give and how much to take
    It is not uncommon for the kelpie to go long periods between Hunts; he knows better than to thin the population too far or to risk alerting the Ischians. He usually satisfies himself with marking his women in the fall, but the hunger grows stronger each day, and the inevitable breaking point of his cyclical behavior is past due. The bones of the cold roan mare were long ago picked of flesh by the sea’s scavengers, and Ivar had intended to Hunt the champagne nereid he’d found in the cove. Instead, she’d made his own water betray him.

    So it is that he is hungry and irritable already, and now is faced with a shifter that thus far has only served to exacerbate that second emotion.

    What’s to say this isn’t my natural shape, she asks him, and Ivar glances back toward her with an unamused snort. He misses that she makes herself smaller and notices only that she is. The subtle change does as she wishes, though the whole disguise is akin to painting a plastic meal more and more realistic. It does not matter how good it looks; it is still plastic beneath. It is still magic, still a lie.

    “You can look however you please,” he tells the now-nereid dryly. “I’d just prefer you do it out of my sight.”

    With that he does take a step back into the water, and then another. Unless the shifter has anything else to say to him, Ivar returns to the sea and to plotting the best way to exact a fair revenge on Aquaria.

    @[Aodhan]


    and i'll use you as a warning sign
    that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
    Reply




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