anyone;

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Ivar has no desire to track down children that he has sired. That would require effort, and leaving Ischia, neither of which are at all appealing. But he does like to know if they are kelpie (if only to be certain to find their mother again in an effort to repeat his previous success). So when he leaves them, it is always with the final command to bring the child back. He’s no idea of the success rate of this, at least with the women he does not keep confined to his isle. A few have found him – Carwyn’s children, travelling north from the island where she thinks she is hiding, and those of the nereid Evia – but Ivar is quite sure that this is the youngest one he’s seen. Or at least, the youngest that has ever come without her mother. The kelpie has been watching her from the water. He is the shape beneath the waves, circling her to get a better look. She looks like her mother with those budding antlers, but the color and scales are surely Ivar. He only recalls her mother faintly, and that only because he’d been interrupted when wooing her. Isobell had returned earlier than expected from her moonlit swim, and Ivar had been forced to send white Merwen off into the Ischian jungle lest his wife find him with another in their cave. He had promised it was theirs alone, after all. The promise makes bringing other women there all the more thrilling. Someday Isobell will discover he’s broken that promise, and she will be furious. He looks forward to that day. This small filly reminds him of that, so rather than pull her down as breakfast for himself and the younger pair of kelpies that trail him, Ivar instead waits until she reaches the shoreline and approaches her alone. “Where is your mother, little one?” Ivar asks. “Did she send you to find me, or have you come of your own accord?” She seems smaller here, when he sees her from above the water, or perhaps it is being on land that makes Ivar feel too tall. His golden gaze is curious, but no less sharp than the teeth that line his long jaw. @[Izmir] and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind