08-26-2018, 04:52 PM
"Oh Breckin," Ivar says with a laugh. "You caught me on an exceptionally good day." The kelpie grins at her over his shoulder, mouth open just wide enough to show her that there are too many sharp teeth in his mouth, and that his jaw opens wider than any herbivore would ever need. He'd warned her, after all, the same way that he warns them all. Ivar has never pulled down anyone unwilling, and while his conscious is lacking in a plethora of other ways, he's also always warned them first.
It's not his fault if they make a dangerous decision.
Ivar had not missed the narrowed eyes, the way the easy smile had slipped off Breckin's face when he hadn't given her the answer she'd wanted. When she agrees to come with him anyway, he decides that the opportunity might not be entirely lost. Breckin could have refused, after all, but instead she steps farther into the water beside him.
For a moment he is distracted by the way the waves splash up her sides, marring the pattern of her dark spots for an instant before swallowing them entirely. A wave pushes him against her and Ivar doesn't immediately pull away. She is warmer than the water, a result of the warm tropical sun, and she feels smooth against him. The water draws back for another wave and tugs Ivar with it. The kelpie does not fight the current, and instead gives in to it entirely, ducking his head beneath the water.
He is gone in a single flick of a finned tail where hind legs would be. There is barely a ripple (not that one would be visibly in these frothy ocean waters) and then he is surfacing ten feet ahead of Breckin, the water streaming down his dredlocked mane as he meets her brown gaze with bright eyes.
"You're a terrible swimmer," he tells her, but his tone is jovial and light. "I'm surprised you made it to Ischia without help." At that he flicks his tail just above the surface, sending a few drops of water falling toward Breckin. "You're rather lucky I'm here." He adds, allowing himself to drift backward with the waves, ever closer to his western island.
It's not his fault if they make a dangerous decision.
Ivar had not missed the narrowed eyes, the way the easy smile had slipped off Breckin's face when he hadn't given her the answer she'd wanted. When she agrees to come with him anyway, he decides that the opportunity might not be entirely lost. Breckin could have refused, after all, but instead she steps farther into the water beside him.
For a moment he is distracted by the way the waves splash up her sides, marring the pattern of her dark spots for an instant before swallowing them entirely. A wave pushes him against her and Ivar doesn't immediately pull away. She is warmer than the water, a result of the warm tropical sun, and she feels smooth against him. The water draws back for another wave and tugs Ivar with it. The kelpie does not fight the current, and instead gives in to it entirely, ducking his head beneath the water.
He is gone in a single flick of a finned tail where hind legs would be. There is barely a ripple (not that one would be visibly in these frothy ocean waters) and then he is surfacing ten feet ahead of Breckin, the water streaming down his dredlocked mane as he meets her brown gaze with bright eyes.
"You're a terrible swimmer," he tells her, but his tone is jovial and light. "I'm surprised you made it to Ischia without help." At that he flicks his tail just above the surface, sending a few drops of water falling toward Breckin. "You're rather lucky I'm here." He adds, allowing himself to drift backward with the waves, ever closer to his western island.