[private] for the call of the running tide

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Ivar waits, sliding his tongue slowly across his teeth as he does. It takes a moment, and the haze of confusion still clouds her eyes, but the sweet sharpness of fear grows softer. And then she is smiling, a coy expression that illuminates her face. This is what Isobell had seen, he suspects, a teasing nature behind a pretty face. One of his favorites, really, and the name that she gives him warms the cold edges of his handsome smile. “Oceane,” the kelpie repeats, “My very favorite thing.” (Part of it, anyway, but no Mother would name her child the full thing: the abstract unfurling of fresh blood as it seeps into clear ocean water). Ivar nearly reaches forward, but holds back, letting her see the hunger in his golden eyes as well as the way he reigns it in. Ravenous, he traces the lines and curves of her figure as for the first time, those slit-pupiled eyes eager and avid. He wants her, those actions say, but he will not take her without consent. The very opposite of the way he’d pressed himself against her moments ago, really, but he is ever full of contradictions. He is wiling to wait for the perfect hunt, and as sweet as her fear had been, he knows that it will taste far better in Isobell’s presence. They’ll leave now, Oceane tells him, and tucks her wings tightly to her sides as though she means to swim. Ivar laughs, his amusement making him less cautious, and he comes to stand along side her, his hip brushing her own. “We’ll be faster if you fly,” Ivar tells her, “And it’ll be safer, too.” The command of desire that he presses into her is faint, one that she might not even feel right away. “I’ll meet you on the southern shore of Loess,” he promises with another charming smile. And then he is striding toward the water, and the scales overtaking his hide a single rippling motion. Knee deep in the water, he leaps forward as if over an invisible hedge, and when he disappears beneath the water it is with a slap of a finned tail that replaces his hind legs. @[Oceane] and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind