[private] for the call of the running tide

[Oceane]

for the call of the running tide

Oceane remains rooted in the sand, her inquisitive amber eyes continuing to search out the source of the quiet voice, more curious of where the warning had come from than motivated to heed it. She catches a brief glimpse of the blue-and-gold parrot as it rustles a branch overhead in an attempt to pull itself from a veil of flourishing tropical fronds, but just as the woman thinks to investigate the avian further, she falls victim to the hypnotic touch of a man she'd failed to hear creep up behind her.

The brush against her striped neck is gentle and seemingly non-invasive, one that she may have found slightly odd in normal circumstances but not one that would have caused her to react negatively; she is not so lucky today, however, and she swiftly realizes this gentle touch had come with a snare that holds fast to her mind.

Stand still. Be quiet.

There are nothing tangible that binds her. Nothing poisonous that incapacitates her. There is only the residual sound of his voice and the refusal from her muscles to acknowledge her attempts to move from this place she is now planted.

Only her gold-flecked eyes acquiesce. They tentatively slide to the side and follow the scaled frame of the unfamiliar blue-and-gold stallion. In the moment he takes to slide predatory teeth against the warm flesh of her neck, Oceane can't help but to compare his colors to the parrot who had conveniently vacated the area moments prior to his arrival.

She would quiver at his touch if she could, would pull herself away from the hungry look in his eyes. But despite this involuntary fear that causes her heartbeat to quicken, the opaline pegasi feels that familiar tug of curiosity. The stranger's commentary tells her that she has found the place she had been searching for, though it's only now she realizes that perhaps all kelpies aren't as kind as Isobell.

She thinks to her friend, Castile's sister, from a new light now as this predatory creature slithered up next to her mentions the kelpie woman's name. Is this how Isobell would act if she chose to live in Beqanna's shoals as opposed to the continent's most central territory where the only bodies of water are hot springs and freshwater basins.

"No," she tells him succinctly, testing the movement of her wings when he puts a little distance between them. She's able to flex her outer flight feathers, but otherwise her feathered limbs stay secure and snug against her sleek sides, "But she does expect me back soon. Do you have a message I could give her?" Oceane smiles almost-warmly at the stallion, though the mixture of suspicion and intrigue is evident in her bright amber eyes. She continues to test at the flex in her wings and the flex in her joints, hoping to break through whatever invisible vice this nameless predator has placed upon her.

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@[Ivar] | speech