11-13-2018, 08:47 AM
“I’d rather take those I know are good diplomats,” Ivar replies, conveniently forgetting that good diplomats are most often already tied to the kingdom that has trained them. “If you want to make yourself especially useful, you could go find Karat in Tephra. Take Jhene with you.” The palomino mare might as well make herself useful for something other than fun. The idea of his two consorts bringing back a third is also rather thrilling to the primal part of the kelpie’s brain: women making themselves useful.
Despite his suggestion that Carwyn leave on a mission, the piebald kelpie doesn’t make any movement to suggest that he is willing to let her go. She’s leaned into him, and though he cannot see her face from where he stands (and so can’t know that she’d somehow caught on to his dislike of her proposed idea), the scaled creature recognizes willingness when he feels it pressed against him. Her shoulder is in easy reach, and the kelpie presses a silent hypnotic command into Carwyn’s mind: this doesn’t hurt. He forces it as he nips at her shoulder, his sharp teeth aiming to draw blood and mark her.
She might recognize it as the same mark that Karat had worn at their meeting, Ivar’s claim on the silver and lavender woman that had eluded his hungry grasp. Jhene has a matching set as well, though years in his possession have littered her shoulders and neck with the scars of his passion. By the time Carwyn bears him a son, Ivar plans to have marked her much the same, though today he settles for a single nip. That will be enough to make his message clear to the Tephrans, he thinks.
(phone post from the bus, sorry for any typos!)
Despite his suggestion that Carwyn leave on a mission, the piebald kelpie doesn’t make any movement to suggest that he is willing to let her go. She’s leaned into him, and though he cannot see her face from where he stands (and so can’t know that she’d somehow caught on to his dislike of her proposed idea), the scaled creature recognizes willingness when he feels it pressed against him. Her shoulder is in easy reach, and the kelpie presses a silent hypnotic command into Carwyn’s mind: this doesn’t hurt. He forces it as he nips at her shoulder, his sharp teeth aiming to draw blood and mark her.
She might recognize it as the same mark that Karat had worn at their meeting, Ivar’s claim on the silver and lavender woman that had eluded his hungry grasp. Jhene has a matching set as well, though years in his possession have littered her shoulders and neck with the scars of his passion. By the time Carwyn bears him a son, Ivar plans to have marked her much the same, though today he settles for a single nip. That will be enough to make his message clear to the Tephrans, he thinks.
(phone post from the bus, sorry for any typos!)