11-20-2018, 03:34 PM
They're stars, she says effortlessly. They're stars, as if stars a thing that women wear around themselves and as if her actions are no more out of the ordinary than blinking those pale grey eyes. They remind him of the underbelly of the spring clouds, half-full of rain but brimming with threats and thunder. Storms have been in short supply this summer, and with them the thrill of electricity and adrenaline that thrums in his veins.
There is enough left to fuel his curiosity at least, and he follows one bit of light from where it sits along his shoulders. It brightens the water like a miniature sun, and for the first time Ivar begins to suspect that he might be swimming out of his depth.
The sensation is not familiar, but he has caught it in time. He hopes.
Rather than continue closer, the kelpie hesitates in the water. She'll catch quite a bit of coral now, but more than anything is the hunger. It growls within him, robbed of prey that is suddenly not-prey, and castes about for some avenue toward satiety. Barely stronger than that is his sense of self-preservation, the singular reason that he does not have a hoard hounding his every step.
The certainty of the ability to hunt tomorrow is better than the possibility that he will eat today. Unlike the careless immortals, Ivar's grasp on life is tenuous at best. For all his impenetrable hide and vice-like grip, the kelpie rarely engages in a fight he is not sure to win, and he is not certain he could take on this starlit stranger.
"I don't like them." He says abruptly, seeming to make no effort to soften his opinion. "Stars belong in the sky."
@[Lirren]
There is enough left to fuel his curiosity at least, and he follows one bit of light from where it sits along his shoulders. It brightens the water like a miniature sun, and for the first time Ivar begins to suspect that he might be swimming out of his depth.
The sensation is not familiar, but he has caught it in time. He hopes.
Rather than continue closer, the kelpie hesitates in the water. She'll catch quite a bit of coral now, but more than anything is the hunger. It growls within him, robbed of prey that is suddenly not-prey, and castes about for some avenue toward satiety. Barely stronger than that is his sense of self-preservation, the singular reason that he does not have a hoard hounding his every step.
The certainty of the ability to hunt tomorrow is better than the possibility that he will eat today. Unlike the careless immortals, Ivar's grasp on life is tenuous at best. For all his impenetrable hide and vice-like grip, the kelpie rarely engages in a fight he is not sure to win, and he is not certain he could take on this starlit stranger.
"I don't like them." He says abruptly, seeming to make no effort to soften his opinion. "Stars belong in the sky."
@[Lirren]