your heart, it's like a drum
the chase has just begun
The ocean is soothing against her fetlocks, the wet tendrils of water and gentle spatter a comfort as it rises and falls behind her in a familiar dance. She is aware of it even as she watches the young girl approach, the bloom of curiosity a rosy cloud around her, tinged by the pale luster of uncertainty and shyness. Had the kelpie a heart, she might have seen only the sweetness of the moment rather than a tender young thing too naive to be wary of the things that crawl from the sea.
She blinks large, golden eyes at the girl as she asks if she is okay, as though confused and astounded by her presence here. She does not reply for a moment, her mouth cumbersome and strange without its rows of jagged teeth. When she finally does, her voice is soft, a hiss of disuse behind the faint lilt. “I… I am not certain.” Her words are unsteady. She could pretend it was purposefully done, but in truth, it had not been. It has been too long since she last attempted speech. “Can you help me?”
Her gaze is pleading as she stares at the youth, willing her close. Willing her to offer the help she had so prettily begged for.
Their little masquerade is interrupted moments later however, when another slinks from the shadows, staring at her. She shies back, ears pinning as he shifts an instantly wary gaze at the other. This is a creature much more fearsome than the small girl, spines rising from her in a proud display, teeth barely hidden by scaled lips as she speaks. It takes every ounce of willpower that Waverly possesses to keep her own teeth from erupting through the guileless facade.
Only the other mare’s words keep her from edging from woman to monster.
Her gaze shifts to the girl briefly, attempting to gauge her reaction to this interruption. Would she stay, perhaps even come to her aid? Or would she flee in fear?
The first is what keeps her here, shifting along the shoreline. Though it is no small part influenced by the tendrils of interest rising from the scaled woman, highlighting the absence of crimson aggression. Whatever it is she wishes, to turn her teeth on Waverly does not appear to be among them for the moment.
In light of those realizations, she finds her own curiosity rising. A rare thing for the kelpie. Still, even curiosity is not enough to quell her interest in the child. As she tries to determine a way in which she might yet salvage her hunt, she takes another unsteady step towards the girl. In the wake of the silent uncertainty that had followed the other woman’s question, Waverly finally speaks again, giving voice to that uncertainty. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Waverly
@[Ehko]