The water parts easily for the stallion as he wades through the shallows, and as he climbs onto the shoreline he leaves only the smallest of ripples behind. The tepid lake water drips down his armor, giving a false brightness to the otherwise dull black scales. There will be no crusting of salt after this swim, but Ivar shakes the water away out of habit anyway, starting at his head and ending with a flick of his white tail.
He keeps an ear on the shadow the entire time, and only when the stranger begins to speak does he finally look up.
The night wind had not been in his favor, and Ivar had assumed that the night guard would be male. They are not, he finds, though his brown gaze still flicks up the slope to ensure there is no guard behind her. It takes a long moment for him to answer; he is clearly not giving her question priority. Instead he traces her figure, runs his eyes along the ample curves and sleek lines of her body, and marvels at the pattern that covers her skin. Like the leopard seals, Ivar thinks, though far less likely to flee in fear at his approach.
He tests that with a step closer, making no attempt to hide the hunger in his gaze. Ivar had never been taught not to play with his food, and even though the kelpie knows these are not safe hunting grounds (not with the too-clear water and the bright moonlight), he still smiles bewitchingly in response to the bay’s frown.
“I’m Ivar,” he tells her when their eyes finally meet. He’d taken stock of the sleek horn she wears, and he might have come even closer were it not for that. The memories of a skeletal creature with one not so dissimilar are too fresh. Ivar doesn’t doubt he can handle it (truly he’d be more than happy to handle all of the brown-eyed mare), but the night is still young, and the hunger is quieter, as it often is this time of year.
“And you’re the welcoming committee, I suppose?” asks the kelpie, the humor in his baritone voice unperturbed by her frown. “Here to show me all the best things the sanctuary has to offer?”
@[Kagerus]
i had to google your keyboard smash to make sure it wasnt an acronym that i was too old to understand lmao
He keeps an ear on the shadow the entire time, and only when the stranger begins to speak does he finally look up.
The night wind had not been in his favor, and Ivar had assumed that the night guard would be male. They are not, he finds, though his brown gaze still flicks up the slope to ensure there is no guard behind her. It takes a long moment for him to answer; he is clearly not giving her question priority. Instead he traces her figure, runs his eyes along the ample curves and sleek lines of her body, and marvels at the pattern that covers her skin. Like the leopard seals, Ivar thinks, though far less likely to flee in fear at his approach.
He tests that with a step closer, making no attempt to hide the hunger in his gaze. Ivar had never been taught not to play with his food, and even though the kelpie knows these are not safe hunting grounds (not with the too-clear water and the bright moonlight), he still smiles bewitchingly in response to the bay’s frown.
“I’m Ivar,” he tells her when their eyes finally meet. He’d taken stock of the sleek horn she wears, and he might have come even closer were it not for that. The memories of a skeletal creature with one not so dissimilar are too fresh. Ivar doesn’t doubt he can handle it (truly he’d be more than happy to handle all of the brown-eyed mare), but the night is still young, and the hunger is quieter, as it often is this time of year.
“And you’re the welcoming committee, I suppose?” asks the kelpie, the humor in his baritone voice unperturbed by her frown. “Here to show me all the best things the sanctuary has to offer?”
@[Kagerus]
i had to google your keyboard smash to make sure it wasnt an acronym that i was too old to understand lmao