The tides still come in go with the same regularity, the sun still rises and sets. The plague has not had an impact on the kelpie's health, but the magical shifting of Beqanna to accommodate it has altered his existence drastically. Instead of his tiny island he has a giant one (well, plans to have it, and his opponents are either edible or sinkable), and the sea around has shifted to something entirely unfamiliar. The kelpie could spend months learning the new topography - and he will.
But not tonight.
Tonight he follows the faint taste of freshwater. The River had once been a few miles from his home, and yet now he drifts past Tephra, then Sylva, and the jutting Pampas before he slips into the bay that is fed by the river. The world feels larger, and yet it is also far less populated. They cluster together for safety, and Ivar - who prefers to hunt in solitude - is force to roam farther in search of prey.
He finds it, a set of dark hooves in the shallows. The figure above them glows in a way that catches the kelpie's eye, and he breaks the surface to rise head and shoulders above the water. One clawed hind limb catches on a submerged log, keeping him anchored even in the cold current.
Shaking away the thick tangle of his sodden mane, the golden-eyed kelpie inspects the stranger. He is more than appreciative of her soft curves and bright eyes, but even as the light accentuates her beauty it keeps him at a distance. The opposite of a moth drawn to a flame, the jewel-toned kelpie keeps just to the edge of her circle of light, though he makes no attempt to hide. The pearlescent brightness of his pale face is surely visible in her psuedo-starlight, impossibly handsome and equally curious.
@[Lirren]
But not tonight.
Tonight he follows the faint taste of freshwater. The River had once been a few miles from his home, and yet now he drifts past Tephra, then Sylva, and the jutting Pampas before he slips into the bay that is fed by the river. The world feels larger, and yet it is also far less populated. They cluster together for safety, and Ivar - who prefers to hunt in solitude - is force to roam farther in search of prey.
He finds it, a set of dark hooves in the shallows. The figure above them glows in a way that catches the kelpie's eye, and he breaks the surface to rise head and shoulders above the water. One clawed hind limb catches on a submerged log, keeping him anchored even in the cold current.
Shaking away the thick tangle of his sodden mane, the golden-eyed kelpie inspects the stranger. He is more than appreciative of her soft curves and bright eyes, but even as the light accentuates her beauty it keeps him at a distance. The opposite of a moth drawn to a flame, the jewel-toned kelpie keeps just to the edge of her circle of light, though he makes no attempt to hide. The pearlescent brightness of his pale face is surely visible in her psuedo-starlight, impossibly handsome and equally curious.
@[Lirren]