[mature] you saw the fault lines, started panicking; kyveli

[Ivar]

The rattle of water in her lungs is melodic to the kelpie, and he flicks his ear nearer her salt-torn throat to better hear. With the satisfaction of a kill off the table(almost literally), he must settle for what scraps he can. The softer salt taste of her blood is still on his teeth, and he savors it as long as he is able.

Eventually, Kyveli's voice returns to her, though it is broken frequently with coughs and sputtering. Ivar has been guiding her back to shallower water (no easy feat with the growing swells that precede a storm). "We're almost back at the island." He tells her, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

A wave swells high above them, and Ivar snarls in its general direction. This water is perfect for hunting, but it is a foe against a rescue. He isn't strong enough to push Kyveli entirely above the water, and he isn't sure how well her water walking works so far from shore or how much she has mastered it.

"The storm will be here before we can find her," Ivar adds as he feels his hooves scrape the sand below. A few more yards, and she'll be able to stand in the shallows. "We need to find shelter first." Though the sapphire and white stallion prefers to use hypnosis as infrequently as possible, he reaches toward the glittering filly as his tail shifts back to legs and he stands. Ivar's muzzle presses against the filly's shoulder, and though her heaving sides and bleeding neck all but beg the kelpie to pull her back to sea, he does not. Instead he presses silent commands into the wet slick of her hair. 'trust me. you feel safe. i make you feel safe.'

[Kyveli]

Kyveli

Kyveli's mind is young and malleable; perhaps her blood loss adds to that. But her instinctual need for her mother is great - greater than that. There's the silent commands, the acts of reassurance, and the logic that sways her, but as she reaches the shore, she still starts to run for the place she knows her mother and her sister must be hiding.

She stumbles, her legs cold from the water, and falls over, shivering, sobbing into the sandy beach. It's then that whatever Ivar said to her earlier, registers - find shelter first. But she doesn't want to move any more. Totally devastated, she gives up on hiding from the storm. "I-vy," she shudders as she finds her legs, moving under her in her laid-down position, but she doesn't trust them enough to try to stand. There's a lightning flash, and the young girl looks to the sky with wide eyes.

She's safe now, right? Yet somehow she doesn't know what to do next, clinging to the one thing she knows with whatever her mind is capable of clinging to, that she wants to go home, and cuddle up next to her mother, where she will be safe. Even safer than with Ivar. Who is pretty safe, also.

I only wanted to one time see you laughing
in the purple rain

Totally rambling but that's how I felt she would be so, eh, if you can't make anything of it, let me know

[Ivar]

She makes an effort to run, but fails. Ivar had made no rush to follow her; he knows what it looks like when prey makes one final attempt to struggle free. This one is weak, both from fighting the water and blood loss, and when she trips in the wet sand he is just behind her. "Shhh," He says against her violet forehead. "Stand up. Just a little farther into the trees." He laces his touch along her crest with a hypnotic command. The fear that is visible in her eyes is likely making her think she is weaker than she is, Ivar hopes; he doesn't want to have to drag her to shelter.

He would if he had to, but he would rather not. She’s too heavy, too close to fully grown, but Ivar has dedicated nearly three years into keeping her alive, and he’ll be damned if he loses the girl to a hurricane before he can enjoy the investment.

The kelpie has never attempted to come between Kylin and her daughter before, but he has always known the day would come. He had thought it would be later, when she was truly an adult and tempted to spread her wings. He’d have preferred that, really, but hurricanes do not care much for his preferences.

you want to make me happy."Come on Kyvi,"you need to obey. "Just a little farther."

The kelpie’s pale mouth doesn’t leave her purple hide for a moment; he traces the line of her crest as he further attempts to bend her to his will. Around them the rain has begun in earnest, and the salt water that covers his scales is rapidly diluting. There is a shallow cave – more of an overhang really – less than a hundred yards from where Kyveli lays in the sand, deeper into the island.

@[Kyveli]

[Kyveli]

Kyveli

She doesn't resist - she has no energy to do so. The command is stronger than her desperation, so she wordlessly, numbly, scribbles to her feet to follow up on it. Moving wobbly into the trees.

She trusts him. He's always been there and never ever given her reason not to. He's strong and everything she's not - a handsome protector, like maybe an uncle (not a father, he's never given her that idea) or a family friend. And Kyveli is always a pleaser - the command to obey might not even be needed, not after that first one.

Of course she wants to make him happy. If he's happy, momma's happy, and then she is happy too. Right?

I only wanted to one time see you laughing
in the purple rain