07-23-2020, 06:20 AM
The Island in the north may look silent, deserted, barren - it is not. Of course, the dragon knows very well that the Icicles here need more than just the occasional raid to keep them going, keep them happy - sometimes it's just hard for him to acknowledge that not everyone wants a very outgoing life, that they want quiet times and undisturbed ways of living as well.
It's not of the dragon's influence how many choose to eventually live here, or not. The one that does choose to travel north all the way, however, is regarded with mixed feelings. Once upon a time there had been a man convinced that kelpies and dragons just don't mix. And for as long as all the kelpies remained in Ischia and it's close-by warmer seas, he could not care less about them. This black and blue-spotted girl (all mares younger than middle-aged women are girls in the eyes of the immortal) does have something more about her, but he cannot point out exactly what. Perhaps just the fact that she swam all this way and had not been deterred by the cold. Perhaps it's just that.
He lets go of the shadows that cling to his sun-reflecting, icy body, leisurely lumbering towards the high-pitched voice from out of the darkness, into the light. He sports no wings in the moment, though it is quite obvious that he is not just a horse - having opted to keep the spines on his neck, instead of normal mane. He'd been testing out the limits of his shifting abilities, and today, that shows. His tail remains normal though, as do his ever-present ice-made scales. Claws are shifting in and out of place on his hind legs, as his mixed feelings find a way to mess with his current appearance.
"A kelpie on my shores. That's a first." Whilst technically not true because Stillwater had broke through first, the old man had only done so to leave Castile's dragon-child here to freeze him to death, and had had not intentions of visiting. He brushes the memory aside quickly, knowing who else was there that day to find the colt, and he doesn't want to be reminded -
that is until he inadvertently meets the young mare's eyes, and starts having a much harder time not to be reminded. His face shows only the minimal twitch, keeping it in check in a now years-practised way of pretending everything's fine. It must have been nearly five years now. Time enough to move on... you'd think. But it doesn't help to remember exactly the how of when she left, and he falls still - very still. The young mare herself might not have noticed though; he prays that she doesn't. He's suddenly very sure that he doesn't want to know anything about her ancestry.
It's not of the dragon's influence how many choose to eventually live here, or not. The one that does choose to travel north all the way, however, is regarded with mixed feelings. Once upon a time there had been a man convinced that kelpies and dragons just don't mix. And for as long as all the kelpies remained in Ischia and it's close-by warmer seas, he could not care less about them. This black and blue-spotted girl (all mares younger than middle-aged women are girls in the eyes of the immortal) does have something more about her, but he cannot point out exactly what. Perhaps just the fact that she swam all this way and had not been deterred by the cold. Perhaps it's just that.
He lets go of the shadows that cling to his sun-reflecting, icy body, leisurely lumbering towards the high-pitched voice from out of the darkness, into the light. He sports no wings in the moment, though it is quite obvious that he is not just a horse - having opted to keep the spines on his neck, instead of normal mane. He'd been testing out the limits of his shifting abilities, and today, that shows. His tail remains normal though, as do his ever-present ice-made scales. Claws are shifting in and out of place on his hind legs, as his mixed feelings find a way to mess with his current appearance.
"A kelpie on my shores. That's a first." Whilst technically not true because Stillwater had broke through first, the old man had only done so to leave Castile's dragon-child here to freeze him to death, and had had not intentions of visiting. He brushes the memory aside quickly, knowing who else was there that day to find the colt, and he doesn't want to be reminded -
that is until he inadvertently meets the young mare's eyes, and starts having a much harder time not to be reminded. His face shows only the minimal twitch, keeping it in check in a now years-practised way of pretending everything's fine. It must have been nearly five years now. Time enough to move on... you'd think. But it doesn't help to remember exactly the how of when she left, and he falls still - very still. The young mare herself might not have noticed though; he prays that she doesn't. He's suddenly very sure that he doesn't want to know anything about her ancestry.
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
@[Lumina]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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