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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


    could i use you as a warning sign; Carwyn
    #1
    With the siblings gone and the Brotherhood far ahead of them, Ivar finally has his island - his Ischia. 

    It's taken nearly four years of waiting and hadn't ended with Brennen's body strewn in pieces across the sea floor as Ivar had always thought it would, but it is satisfying nonetheless. Instead he has a single piece of the bay stallion, his granddaughter Carwyn.

    The overo mare had said she was interested in being more than his plaything, and while Ivar doesn't truly care what she might want, the scaled creature has learned that it is often easier in the long run for him to humor those mares that he intends to keep for a while. 

    "Carwyn," says the kelpie, moving closer to the roan mare. He is bold in his greeting, and places a cool muzzle against her shoulder that he does not remove when he speaks again. She'd agreed to be his consort, after all; she might as well start now.

    "You said you didn't want Ischia to fall into the wrong hands. So you have a vision for what you want of this island?" Surely she did; she'd been bold enough to claim it so she must have some idea of what she wants - no matter how vague. "I have to warn you; I've had enough of the Brotherhood to last me a lifetime. I don't intend to share this island with other stallions." 

    @[Carwyn] a semi-continuation of their earlier conversation Smile
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    #2
    Carwyn
    Folded wings into flattening veins and fluttering eyes
    The winged mare had watched as the siblings had left the lands and sighed. She had almost hoped that the three could have become at least friends or acquaintances. Her head snapped in the direction on the kelpie when he had said her name. She took in his words and the boldness of his moves. Carwyn gave him a soft smile and said "I have a vision of a sanctuary for those in need, for those that need protection from the outside. I understand and does that mean that no other stallion or colt can stay her?" She wasn't sure if she could agree to send out a young colt to fend for himself. She would have to visit with her grandfather soon and see how he was doing.
    Somewhere my lifeline still hums and sings
    In the mess of all I have thrown away
    HTML by Call-pic manip by Devin


    @[Ivar] Hope this reply is okay Smile
    avatar by Sprite <3
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    #3
    When she does not respond to his touch – at least, not anything more than her soft smile and acceptance - the kelpie grows bolder, and his soft white mouth moves toward the dark fall of Carwyn’s mane. He grooms her gently, and is glad that she cannot read his expression from the angle at which they stand. She speaks of a sanctuary, a place for the weak and helpless.

    How unappealing.

    Ivar’s grimace is hidden in the teeth that carefully smooth the overo mare’s mane, and she cannot see the golden eyes that roll at her suggestion. Where has Carwyn been these most recent years? Hyaline is renowned as a sanctuary state, and Tephra fancies itself a haven for those searching for a sense of family. Beqanna is already full of lands just like she imagines. Why does she not go there? What use is there in having a world of sanctuaries?

    Why not dream of bigger things? Of being the reason the world needs protection? For a moment Ivar is lost in his imagination. A world spread wide at his hooves, one where he need not hide his hunts. One where he can seek whatever prey he chooses, and damn the consequences.

    Now that is appealing.

    “Not unless they have a purpose.” Ivar answers, rather certain that such men are few an far between. There might be exceptions, he thinks, his mind flicking to Lochwood, to Castile, to Lothbrook. “Or unless they are family.”

    “We need diplomats for what I have in mind,” the kelpie says. He doesn’t address her ideas for Ischia at all; they are inconsequential. Ivar does not care for her opinions. “I’d wanted Karat for that, but her brother was too jealous to let her stay without him.” This is how Ivar sees it, of course, he cannot fathom that Karat might have left of her own free will, disappointed that he had ignored the bargain they had nearly struck.

    @[Carwyn]
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    #4
    Carwyn
    Folded wings into flattening veins and fluttering eyes
    The winged girl was sure that the stallion had winced at her words and that almost gave her joy. She decided to play along with the kelpie and his bold moves towards her. She almost felt a jolt of joy and excitement go through her body.  She leans into the stallions body and gives him an almost flirty smile. Yes she knew that there was already sanctuaries within the lands. The roan overo mare was considering her next words to the kelpie. Carwyn said "I will see who I can find to join our cause and your vision. Let me know what kind of diplomatic figures to find." She was considering going to the field or the common lands to find their next resident.
    Somewhere my lifeline still hums and sings
    In the mess of all I have thrown away
    HTML by Call-pic manip by Devin


    @[Ivar]
    avatar by Sprite <3
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    #5
    “I’d rather take those I know are good diplomats,” Ivar replies, conveniently forgetting that good diplomats are most often already tied to the kingdom that has trained them. “If you want to make yourself especially useful, you could go find Karat in Tephra. Take Jhene with you.” The palomino mare might as well make herself useful for something other than  fun. The idea of his two consorts bringing back a third is also rather thrilling to the primal part of the kelpie’s brain: women making themselves useful.

    Despite his suggestion that Carwyn leave on a mission, the piebald kelpie doesn’t make any movement to suggest that he is willing to let her go. She’s leaned into him, and though he cannot see her face from where he stands (and so can’t know that she’d somehow caught on to his dislike of her proposed idea), the scaled creature recognizes willingness when he feels it pressed against him. Her shoulder is in easy reach, and the kelpie presses a silent hypnotic command into Carwyn’s mind: this doesn’t hurt. He forces it as he nips at her shoulder, his sharp teeth aiming to draw blood and mark her.

    She might recognize it as the same mark that Karat had worn at their meeting, Ivar’s claim on the silver and lavender woman that had eluded his hungry grasp. Jhene has a matching set as well, though years in his possession have littered her shoulders and neck with the scars of his passion. By the time Carwyn bears him a son, Ivar plans to have marked her much the same, though today he settles for a single nip. That will be enough to make his message clear to the Tephrans, he thinks.

    (phone post from the bus, sorry for any typos!)
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    #6
    Carwyn
    Folded wings into flattening veins and fluttering eyes
    The blue roan girl wasn't sure if she should wait a day or so before she went on her journey. She wandered if her journey was to bring Karat back or just to do a visit. She decided that she would ask Ivar on what he would like done once her and Jhene had found the lavender mare. Carwyn could feel the stallions teeth graze her shoulder when he had nipped her. She turned her head and said "When should this journey to Tephra begin? Also is this visit to bring Karat back or just to give you an update." The winged girl turned toward the stallion and pressed her muzzle to his neck. She gave him a smile as she let her blue eyes dart around the area.
    Somewhere my lifeline still hums and sings
    In the mess of all I have thrown away
    HTML by Call-pic manip by Devin


    @[Ivar]
    avatar by Sprite <3
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    #7
    The kelpie yawns, lulled by the crash of the sea and the warmth of the roan mare. He is rarely so active during the height of the day, but recent events have forced him from his preferred habits. Shaking his head, he rearranges the tangled mess of his forelock and presses his mouth again to the mark on her shoulder. Her blood still marks his sharp teeth, and for a moment he toys with the idea of simply drowning her.
    It would be an open declaration to Brennen at the very least; Ivar is free to do what he wants in Ischia. The idea is tempting. Carwyn would look lovely on the seafloor, all blue and white and winged.

    But no.

    He is not yet ready to be hunted. Later then, he thinks, as the mare beside him asks for clarification.

    “Invite her back,” he tells her. “Remind her what Ischia has to offer.”

    And then, rather than drown Carwyn and his dreams of open hunting, the kelpie returns to the sea with a final press of his pale muzzle to her cheek.
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