09-15-2018, 05:53 PM
Thunder rumbles overhead, a dark threat accompanied by ominous clouds and the promise of a powerful storm by nightfall. This is Ivar's favorite time of year, the very best part of Ischia: hurricane season. A bolt of lightning illuminates his face and castes @[Kylin]'s pale face into stark relief. The kelpie smiles, and presses his muzzle against the mare’s lavender jaw.
"Come on." His voice is pitched low, barely audible over the crash of the surf in the distance and the boom of thunder overhead. The afternoon sun is hazy around them, and the ever-warm breeze of tropical Ischia gusts around them. Each breath feels like he is swallowing the storm, so humid is the air around them. "Before we lose the light."
He wants to see her, after all. The darkness is good for strangers, but Kylin is not a stranger. She belongs to him, and she will come with him because he wants her too. There is no danger in this hunt, but the kelpie plans to savor it all the same.
Behind him, the patter of raindrops has just begun. They drop, heavy and plentiful, soaking the sand in record time. It has been some time since he last swam – nearly an hour – and he snorts in satisfaction as the rough ridges of his piebald coat once again grow damp. The surf climbs up his legs as he moves backward, beckoning the finned mare out into deeper water.
"Don’t be afraid of a little bit of rain." Kylin is often cautious, and Ivar is familiar with this. His cheek presses against hers for just an instant, long enough to send that same command through a touch of hypnosis. He smiles, impossibly handsome, and feels the stretch of bone and muscle as his body reconfigures to the sea.
sorry for the wait; hunting ivar’s muse has been hiding lately!
"Come on." His voice is pitched low, barely audible over the crash of the surf in the distance and the boom of thunder overhead. The afternoon sun is hazy around them, and the ever-warm breeze of tropical Ischia gusts around them. Each breath feels like he is swallowing the storm, so humid is the air around them. "Before we lose the light."
He wants to see her, after all. The darkness is good for strangers, but Kylin is not a stranger. She belongs to him, and she will come with him because he wants her too. There is no danger in this hunt, but the kelpie plans to savor it all the same.
Behind him, the patter of raindrops has just begun. They drop, heavy and plentiful, soaking the sand in record time. It has been some time since he last swam – nearly an hour – and he snorts in satisfaction as the rough ridges of his piebald coat once again grow damp. The surf climbs up his legs as he moves backward, beckoning the finned mare out into deeper water.
"Don’t be afraid of a little bit of rain." Kylin is often cautious, and Ivar is familiar with this. His cheek presses against hers for just an instant, long enough to send that same command through a touch of hypnosis. He smiles, impossibly handsome, and feels the stretch of bone and muscle as his body reconfigures to the sea.
sorry for the wait; hunting ivar’s muse has been hiding lately!