05-09-2020, 07:41 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The kelpie rarely encounters children that are not his own, and while he is not especially fond of them, they sometimes have their uses. More often than not it is filling his belly, but he has lured a promising yearling or two back to his island to mature. Fillies, of course; he has no need for colts. But as his curious gold eyes look over the finned champagne in front of him, he thinks of the many children he has. Perhaps one of them might want a plaything? Or perhaps Ivar might shred him into little pieces so fine that he could convince Isobell they were fish. That idea brings an amused glint to his golden eyes as he looks to the speaking colt. Aquaria is out patrolling, the masked champagne tells him, and it is a struggle for Ivar to force himself to show the opposite reaction he experience. A disappointed frown creases his forehead, and his he makes a soft tisk of chagrin as he casts his eyes toward the empty beach. “Ah, that’s too bad.” He says, shaking his head. The kelpie has heard the splash of water behind him that is the bay filly, and though he does give her a glance his eyes do not linger long. There is fear in her wide eyes; the predator in him senses it. It is difficult to tear his eyes away, but he does. Hunger rumbles in his belly, but he lets Kaimana paddle a little farther away from him without a word to stop her. Leaving Aquaria with a dead child and a missing one is an appealing idea, but it will be more difficult to lure the boy away if his sister is bleeding out in the water beside them. Instead, he responds reasonably, still wearing the flawless mask of concern from earlier. “Yes, tell her I have need of her help. I just worry…” and there is real worry in his voice too, as he looks back over his shoulder at where the open water of the ocean glistens outside this protected cove. “I’ve lost my daughter’s little seal,” he tells them. “It’s a black one, from the Island Resort, and she’s been wanting one for months, and it slipped away from me this morning before I could give it to her. Is there any chance you two have seen it?” Most of the story is truthful, and there is nothing suspicious in Ivar’s voice (kelpie are rather good at soothing prey, after all). The truth is that he’d gotten the seal years ago, and one of Svana’s brothers had eaten the thing before it reached adulthood. His daughter had mourned the little thing and Ivar has contemplated getting another for her, if only because it makes Isobell happy when he is seen to visibly favor her children over the others. But that would require a journey away from Ischia, and Ivar is disinclined to any sort of exertion unrelated to hunting. “The longer it’s gone, the more lost it might get.” Apprehension colors his voice, fear of the dangers in the ocean to a little seal out on its own. These are Aquaria’s children, and while Ivar knows little of the nereid, her kind are so often tender-hearted. They do not recognize compassion as the weakness it is, and this would not be the first time that the kelpie has exploited the kindness of others for his own benefit. He looks truly concerned when he asks: “Are you sure she won’t be back soon? Is there anyone here that might help me search? An older brother or sister perhaps?” They are too young to help, he seems to imply. Aquaria is bold, that much he knows. He is hoping her children are the same. that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind |