She keeps her distance, forcing Ivar to rely on less reliable cues. The skepticism in her gaze flickers for an instant to something more useful, but it is erased by a half-grin and something about having left Nerine. In truth, the kelpie doesn't much care if she's moved to Pangea; socialization is only a tactic.
He knows not to move closer; chasing them on land is futile and garners too much attention. The piebald hunter thrives in secrecy; while he might have a reputation as a paramour there are not even whispers of his darker ventures. Still, there is enough water on her hide to make the saliva pool beneath his tongue, eager to renew the faded memory of touching her.
"The sea." He tells her without hesitation. He could say Ischia, but dislikes the association with the Brotherhood. And his island isn't really Ischia anyway. It's more...Ischia West. It's certainly not Loess, where he had almost lured her before the sister-that-made-her-look-sad had intervened. She is not here now, Ivar reminds himself, and he glances away from the treeline to Wrena.
Her lowered gaze is difficult to resist, and the piebald stallion swallows audibly. That might be a ploy, and his next words certainly are. There is much an impossibly handsome creature might get away with, and even more once the prey is near enough to touch. "Are you somewhere else now?" Or are you in need of someplace to be - someone's to be.
He knows not to move closer; chasing them on land is futile and garners too much attention. The piebald hunter thrives in secrecy; while he might have a reputation as a paramour there are not even whispers of his darker ventures. Still, there is enough water on her hide to make the saliva pool beneath his tongue, eager to renew the faded memory of touching her.
"The sea." He tells her without hesitation. He could say Ischia, but dislikes the association with the Brotherhood. And his island isn't really Ischia anyway. It's more...Ischia West. It's certainly not Loess, where he had almost lured her before the sister-that-made-her-look-sad had intervened. She is not here now, Ivar reminds himself, and he glances away from the treeline to Wrena.
Her lowered gaze is difficult to resist, and the piebald stallion swallows audibly. That might be a ploy, and his next words certainly are. There is much an impossibly handsome creature might get away with, and even more once the prey is near enough to touch. "Are you somewhere else now?" Or are you in need of someplace to be - someone's to be.