09-23-2018, 12:15 PM
Ivar yawns, displaying several sets of too-sharp teeth in a jaw that opens far wider than it should. Yet as it closes, he is impossibly handsome anyway, a product of rapidly evolving biology and a healthy dose of magic.
The kelpie has been forced to wait out a storm on the mainland, and he is roused by a clap of thunder that suggest a second spring thunderstorm might be on the way. He'd fallen asleep in a windblown copse of trees, and he picks his way through the damp forest in search of the sea.
He has not quite reached it when he hears the snap of a branch that suggests someone else is moving nearby. The piebald horse freezes, though he knows it is unlikely that he will not be seen. He is brilliantly blue and gold after all, clearly out of place here in these new-growth woods. His ears flick forward curiously, pale nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch the scent of whomever - whatever - is out in the shadows.
Evening is quickly approaching, and the sun is mostly set behind the distant western mountains. There is a sharp pang in his belly. Ivar glances to the side, where lush spring grass grows aplenty, but he is not in the mood for grazing. The sea is distant still and he has never been fond of small game, and the hunger makes him irritable.
The kelpie has been forced to wait out a storm on the mainland, and he is roused by a clap of thunder that suggest a second spring thunderstorm might be on the way. He'd fallen asleep in a windblown copse of trees, and he picks his way through the damp forest in search of the sea.
He has not quite reached it when he hears the snap of a branch that suggests someone else is moving nearby. The piebald horse freezes, though he knows it is unlikely that he will not be seen. He is brilliantly blue and gold after all, clearly out of place here in these new-growth woods. His ears flick forward curiously, pale nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch the scent of whomever - whatever - is out in the shadows.
Evening is quickly approaching, and the sun is mostly set behind the distant western mountains. There is a sharp pang in his belly. Ivar glances to the side, where lush spring grass grows aplenty, but he is not in the mood for grazing. The sea is distant still and he has never been fond of small game, and the hunger makes him irritable.