10-25-2020, 09:20 PM
Sometimes he comes to back to his island birthplace, spends hours and even days lounging in the eternal warmth and sunshine. It is a place of peace, quiet, and solemnity. But eventually, the memories of his childhood start to return at the familiar sensations of dried salt on his skin and the squawk of parrots. Then, with dreams of blood-red water and thrashing hooves haunting him, Quell leaves Ischia behind him for the next few months.
Today, he stands at the rim of the caldera where his father swims. He is trapped there, the black colt knows. Trapped and unable to emerge without aid. He hopes that someone is making sure that Ivar does not have aid, but that is the responsibility of those who’d trapped him there and not of Quell. There is a glint of gold in the clear water below, and the colt steps away, shaking his dragon wings uncomfortably as he moves farther away.
Those wings disappear by the time he stands on the sandy shore, and the rest of his body changes as well, adapting at the touch of the water into something more aquatic. The leopard seal that Quell has become dives beneath the crystalline tropical water, his speckled shape sleek and quick in the water. He might have splashed about for a few more hours, but he is distracted by the sight of someone crossing on the sandbars that connects Ischia to the mainland during the low tide.
She looks young to be crossing alone, maybe Herrin’s age or even younger. Quell, at the grandfatherly age of three (in a season or two), is perturbed by this. Where is the parent, or the responsible older sibling? What if she falls into the ceynote? Quell, who’d hoped to fly back to Sylva before nightfall, sighs in resignation and swims toward the shallows. He clambers back to the Ischian shore as a horse again. At least, as much a horse as a winged and partially-scaled young colt can be. The gold and white markings that stripe his legs and wings glitter with saltwater that runs down his furred sides and then his scaled underbelly as he shakes himself dry.
”What’re you doing here?” he asks, not nearly as polite as a real Ischian would have been. Yet despite the gruffness in his voice, his dark gaze does not focus on the filly herself, but rather on the absent responsible party who has allowed her to run wild. “Do you know where you’re going? Who told you to come here?”
@[Starsonder]
Today, he stands at the rim of the caldera where his father swims. He is trapped there, the black colt knows. Trapped and unable to emerge without aid. He hopes that someone is making sure that Ivar does not have aid, but that is the responsibility of those who’d trapped him there and not of Quell. There is a glint of gold in the clear water below, and the colt steps away, shaking his dragon wings uncomfortably as he moves farther away.
Those wings disappear by the time he stands on the sandy shore, and the rest of his body changes as well, adapting at the touch of the water into something more aquatic. The leopard seal that Quell has become dives beneath the crystalline tropical water, his speckled shape sleek and quick in the water. He might have splashed about for a few more hours, but he is distracted by the sight of someone crossing on the sandbars that connects Ischia to the mainland during the low tide.
She looks young to be crossing alone, maybe Herrin’s age or even younger. Quell, at the grandfatherly age of three (in a season or two), is perturbed by this. Where is the parent, or the responsible older sibling? What if she falls into the ceynote? Quell, who’d hoped to fly back to Sylva before nightfall, sighs in resignation and swims toward the shallows. He clambers back to the Ischian shore as a horse again. At least, as much a horse as a winged and partially-scaled young colt can be. The gold and white markings that stripe his legs and wings glitter with saltwater that runs down his furred sides and then his scaled underbelly as he shakes himself dry.
”What’re you doing here?” he asks, not nearly as polite as a real Ischian would have been. Yet despite the gruffness in his voice, his dark gaze does not focus on the filly herself, but rather on the absent responsible party who has allowed her to run wild. “Do you know where you’re going? Who told you to come here?”
@[Starsonder]