08-12-2019, 07:59 AM
The kelpie has never put much thought to ranking his lovers beyond their success in bearing him kelpie children. Those that do he makes an effort to keep, and so the speed at which Kellyn had slipped from his grasp had been bothersome. Her daughter – while compliant and uncomplicated – has been more of a dissapointment. The blue boy is much more satisfactory than his piebald brother-cousins, who Ivar has considered culling a time or two. There is no use in keeping boys who are not kelpie, and yet their mother is fond enough of them – and pliant enough to Ivar’s needs – that he has allowed them to survive nearly to adulthood.
He can hear them in the distance, splashing about in the water, not far from where he drifts belly-up in the shallow sea.
Nearly asleep, a last long inhale of the warm salt air brings with it an unexecpted scent. Ivar tilts his body slowly, his long finned tail drifting toward the seafloor as he pulls himself upright.
A familiar red figure stands in the shallow water, and Ivar moves toward her without a second thought.
“Kellyn,” he says against the roan curve of her neck, his dark lips tracing the edge of her mane as he pushes compliance and desire into her. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
He drifts away now, and she follows.
Another touch to her side encourages her to dive beneath the water. It is unnatural, but to any observer she’s done it of her own free will. He lets her surface, watching with emotionless golden eyes as she gasps for air, and then commands her down again. By the time they’ve reached the far side of his island, free of prying eyes and nosy nereids, Kellyn is exhausted. Yet the hyponotic commands Ivar murmurs against the too-fast pulse of her throat keep her smiling, and Ivar’s golden eyes have grown impossibly bright.
He is not thinking of children in this summer season, but his instincts are undeniable.
She dies happy, like they all do, and Ivar swallows her last scream with lips bloody from bites along her neck and shoulders. He pulls her body further down beneath the water, wedging it between two rocks. It’s been some time since his last kill, and he will likely stay here for a few days, stuffing himself. When he emerges he intends to find Carwyn and give her one final chance to produce a kelpie before dragging her down here with her mother.
@[Kellyn]
voila
He can hear them in the distance, splashing about in the water, not far from where he drifts belly-up in the shallow sea.
Nearly asleep, a last long inhale of the warm salt air brings with it an unexecpted scent. Ivar tilts his body slowly, his long finned tail drifting toward the seafloor as he pulls himself upright.
A familiar red figure stands in the shallow water, and Ivar moves toward her without a second thought.
“Kellyn,” he says against the roan curve of her neck, his dark lips tracing the edge of her mane as he pushes compliance and desire into her. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
He drifts away now, and she follows.
Another touch to her side encourages her to dive beneath the water. It is unnatural, but to any observer she’s done it of her own free will. He lets her surface, watching with emotionless golden eyes as she gasps for air, and then commands her down again. By the time they’ve reached the far side of his island, free of prying eyes and nosy nereids, Kellyn is exhausted. Yet the hyponotic commands Ivar murmurs against the too-fast pulse of her throat keep her smiling, and Ivar’s golden eyes have grown impossibly bright.
He is not thinking of children in this summer season, but his instincts are undeniable.
She dies happy, like they all do, and Ivar swallows her last scream with lips bloody from bites along her neck and shoulders. He pulls her body further down beneath the water, wedging it between two rocks. It’s been some time since his last kill, and he will likely stay here for a few days, stuffing himself. When he emerges he intends to find Carwyn and give her one final chance to produce a kelpie before dragging her down here with her mother.
@[Kellyn]
voila