The storm season is waning and the scaled creature finds himself in need of something, so as the sun begins to set on his dozing lavender family, the kelpie slips into the sea of Nerine.
He has not been here since Wishbone had left, but the grey sea still feels familiar, especially with the almost summer warmth. For a few hours he occupies himself with chasing seals, but as the hours creep toward midnight he ventures ever closer to the shore. He is waiting - for what he is not sure - but as the tide pushes him into ever-shallower water he does not resist.
Eventually he stands on the night-black sand, with the waves softly tugging at his fetlocks. The moon overhead blanches his piebald markings and turns the rest of his glittering coat grey, though when the kelpie turns toward a sound behind him the gold of his scales catches the light. It is only a night heron, returning to a nest high in the cliffs. Ivar watches as it disappears into the shadows only to soar out again a few seconds later, having left the silvery fish it carried with a mate and chicks in the nest. It returns to shore to stalk the edge of the tide, and Ivar continues to watch it until he grows bored.
Then there is movement farther down the beach, movement that draws the hunter closer in a way the scrawny fowl never could. The kelpie is selective in his prey, after all, and while his belly is still full of too-slow seal, there is no quieting the primal hunger. His long legs remain in the surf as he moves, his progress slow and unhurried. The full moon aids his progress as the sandy beach grows narrower and he must pick for footholds among the granite that had fallen en mass from the cliffside a hundred years earlier. The waves have begun to soften the rough edges of the boulders, but it will be many hundreds more years before this northern shore is as wide as the rest of the beach.
”Breckin,” he says when he is close enough, ”I see the sharks didn’t find you after all.” His words are flat and while his handsome brow is raised in what looks like surprise and a smile tugs at his pale mouth, there is no indication in his tone wether the kelpie is pleased or disappointed by her safe return to Nerine.
@[Breckin]
?
The fall of the sun and the rise of the moon beyond the line of Nerine's oceanic horizon had greedily hoarded all of her attention that evening. Fading colors across the spectrum of tones and their seamless melding at caused her pause when her gaze just so happened to drift towards the sea. It had stilled her procession, and the cloudless sky found her dark eyes filled with nothing short of enrapture. And subconciously, her captivation had drawn her into the shallows and the surf pushed and tugged at her cannon bones with gentle succession. Tonight there was a stubborn refusal to allow her thoughts to drift back towards the troubles that followed, inspired by the simple beauty the now deep blue sky had managed to chase away.
The moon's casting glow was luminous tonight, alighting the charcoal sands in nearly a faux-daytime vibrance. A flickering movement of something glinting in said light pulls her attention away from the dark horizon. Moments sweep by, and admittedly the stallion who slowly fills the distance between them is not the one she had initially thought him to be. Leilan had recently opted to make the harsh coast his home, so it would not had been entirely out of character to find him wandering the slate toned shores, especially if he was in search of her for whatever reason that may be. But if it wasn't the tangled mass of salt stained mane or the distinctive pattern of metallic gold and blue that gave away his true identity, then it would be the apathetic voice that carried towards her above the din of the sea.
"Ivar," she says slowly, not bothering to mask the subtle surprise in her own voice, making a small sound at the back of her throat that might be perceived as a laugh. "I believe that statement is arguable." Breckin smiles suggestively, implying passively that she and he both knew that the likes of such predators were not limited to the water's reach. The smile he offers raises evocative memories, and the predatory grin that lies beneath his lips is not easily forgotten. "What brings your annoyingly attractive face to Nerine tonight."
@[Ivar]
10-02-2018, 07:12 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-02-2018, 07:12 AM by Ivar.)
The kelpie grins.
If he'd been annoyingly attractive with a smirk, he is dreadfully curious how she will find him in full costume. Still, he is grinning because he is amused, not with the intent to lure in prey, and so he doesn't immediately lean in an press a touch to her unprotesting shoulder. He could, but he rather likes the way the freckled mare argues with him. Ivar has always had a fondness for those who resist him - regardless of their reasoning.
There is a thrilling satisfaction in taking down the more challenging prey.
"Isn't it obvious?" He asks in reply. From the way he keeps the distance, leans to one side, and unabashedly traces the damp curves of her figure and then face, it seems his answer should be: 'To see you', but instead he says: "I came to see if the sharks found you"
There is a flash of serrated teeth between jewelled lips, another quick grin before the kelpie speaks again. "You must've scared them off with your swimming." An eavesdropper might consider this a compliment, but the kelpie had lamented the spotted mare's aquatic skills at their last meeting, and it is clear from the mischievous glint in his eye that he remembers this quite well.
Something had scared the schooling bull sharks off when she'd returned to the mainland, of course, but it was not Breckin's flailing style of swimming.
@[Breckin]
The steady pull of the tide had caused her hooves to sink heavily into the waterlogged sand, feeling the coarse embrace of grit working into her fetlock. With a gentle yank, she withdraws from the deep hold the ocean had over her, pulling her limbs one by one outward to settle atop the silken sea floor once more. A few tired steps bring her back to the slated shores, gaze drifting to notice the way the moonlight catches across the onyx cliffside through the narrow pass they stood within.
But the itch of salt seeping over her skin urges the leopard woman to shake herself out, causing the shell fragments and other ornaments that had collected in her mane and tail to jingle pleasantly as they settled back into their rightful places. Breckin turns in time to see the way his gilded eyes skim across her ink dotted frame before falling on to the delicate lines of her face. Her eyes narrow in unsubtle perusal, thankful that she had placed more distance between them as she had retreated back to the land.
"As you can see, I'm still in one piece." Mostly she muses to herself, thinking of the obvious patch of missing fur and mane atop her crest in the shape of Klaudius's mouth.
A faint laugh does escape her when he brings up her lackluster swimming abilities. "Yes, that must be it." It was true though, her aquatic skills were very much appalling. Another task to add to the neverending list then, in order to keep Ivar from harassing her forever--learn how to swim as gracefully as a kelpie. "They just couldn't figure out the right angle to come at me, I suppose." She pauses to flash him a bright, duplicitous smile. "And they got tired of trying."
@[Ivar]
Her retreat from the sea is met with a quiet sigh, one that might be taken as disappointment that the mare had returned whole to Nerine. It isn't, of course, but Ivar has never been interested in the minutiae of politeness. It is her distance from the dark waves that frustrates him, the way she pulls away from the danger.
Breckin is wise then, or perhaps wary.
Ivar is neither, and so he comes nearer, shedding the sea in moon-silvered rivulets as he climbs onto the shore. Breckin is more guarded than at their last meeting, but Ivar behaves as though no time at all has passed since their last meeting as he comes closer-closer and settles finally just far enough away that neither of them could reach the other without taking a step.
The clatter of woven ornaments is a reminder why Ivar keeps the space; his dislike of intangible magicks is no secret. Still, he remembers the almost-taste of the spotted mare, and is no discouraged by the heavy scent of another stallion that lingers on her moon bright coat.
"Love is not troubling you anymore?' He asks pointedly. His gaze doesn't flick to the scabbing wound on her neck, one he assumes is from her lover. The kelpie marks his own conquests in such a way, after all, though the healing patch of missing hair suggests that the lover Breckin had felt 'bloody helpless' about is less constant in his affections than Ivar tends to be.
@[Breckin]
In full admittance to herself, that had not been the question she had been anticipating. Making no attempt to conceal her surprise, her pale brows furrow inquisitively as her head tilts thoughtfully. She frowns, watching in silent appraisal of his expressionless stare. Apathetic, near emotionless creature in a handsome shell. He had managed to remain near a mystery to her, even if she understood that his apparent cold, uninviting demeanor had the opposite effect on her. It warmed her, piqued her interest, made her want to step closer, prod further, ask questions, want more.
But more of what?
There was no good answer.
Frustrating and confusing and tiring is what this was. His presence made her feel weak, susceptible and she did not appreciate the feeling of vulnerability, of her curious nature being preyed upon. That’s all this was, she realized, the age old game of predator and prey.
”No.” A simple answer for a simple question. I doubt you honestly care.. She couldn’t help the skepticism that etched the lines of her face, or the curiosity that forced her to voice her next question. ”Are you capable of love, sea monster?”
But just like he might not care if love was no longer bothering her, she didn’t honestly care if he was capable or not. He probably wasn’t. Had she been younger and more naive, she might have cared enough to try to convince him otherwise. In the present, however, there was no time for her to care or attempt to intervene. She had daughters to worry about now, a lover fighting for control of Icicle Isle, a plague to fend off, and a kingdom to watch over. There was no time to worry for the sake of wayward Kelpies she barely knew.
So she doesn’t wait for an answer. “I ought to be polite and ask what you have been up to since I saw you last, but I haven’t entirely convinced myself that I’d like to know the answer.”
@[Ivar] wow this is such crap compared to my earlier replies in the thread.
The game is always better with a willing participant, but Breckin’s clipped answer suggests to the kelpie that she is not so amenable as at their last meeting. Perhaps he had made a mistake in letting her go so easily, but he had been certain he’d find her again. He’d been equally certain that she’d be as willing as she’d once been, but it seems that solving her troubles with love have made her less susceptible to his charms. The same thing had happened with Wishbone, he recalls, but it had taken minimal effort to persuade the young queen that he was uninterested in disrupting her love life.
Ivar is interested in very few things, after all, and none of them are love.
Her skepticism startles a grin out of the golden-eyed kelpie. Is he even capable of experiencing love? Probably not. He is, however, very good at imitation, and that has always been enough for him.
“You wound me,” he replies, but it is clear from the way his bright eyes dance and the grin remains on his pale face that the very opposite is true. Ivar takes a step closer, bargaining the loss of nearness from the sea with closer proximity to the spotted mare.
“Surely you’re interested in what might have happened to Ischia since your brothers abandoned it?” For all his charm, the kelpie makes no effort to hide the sour taste the mention of the Krakens leaves on his tongue. They are unimpressive, even more so since they have left the island for fear of a little cough. “I thought I’d tell you about what I’ve done with the place, now that it’s mine.”
Another step closer on the moonlight beach, so now their shadows are touching even if she remains just out of reach.
“We could discuss about relations between our kingdoms,” he offers with a shrug and a too-handsome grin, “Or we could do something more fun.”
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