|BOY GENIUS (ivarr) wrote in cirque_rp,|
@ 2017-11-27 19:38:00
Ten years seemed to have flown right on by, an amount of time that was but a drop in the bucket for the over 1,000-year-old Kelpie. His first year at Cirque had seen him participating in the Wild Hunt, and he remembered it fondly. He had been given his own water display early on into his employment since he was deeply dissatisfied with the lagoon being the only decent aquatic place to go on circus grounds. Paradox was a creature of moving water. Still, quiet water made him weak. The mini-river was his place and now he was going to use it to its full potential.
It had been quite some time since he had been at the head of a proper Kelpie herd. In the circus, he had settled into leading and caring for the domestic horses that were a part of his act in the Big Top. The Wild Hunt meant that the horses could be in danger, so he shifted in the stables. In the horse form that he used to lure, he made sure to mark his territory before leaving. In anticipation of the true shift, his mane and tail were already dripping water. He rubbed himself up against stall doors, smearing them with his water, and unashamed, at the door leading into the stables he stretched out and urinated.
With that all done, he walked out into the chaos of the Wild Hunt, ears pricked, head high, muscles rippling underneath his shiny black coat. He appeared saddled and bridled, a trick to reel people in, making them think that he was already domesticated and would be easy to ride. Hooves hammered out a two-beat rhythm as he trotted toward the river. Once there, he set about sniffing and snorting around the riverbank, making absolutely sure no one had been around his territory in the carnage so far. He was close to being satisfied when he heard two pairs of running feet coming in his direction. Lifting his head, he let out a horsey nicker, causing the humans to come to an abrupt halt.
"A horse," one of them said, a mother, clearly, with a crying daughter glued to her side. This could be his lucky night. He preferred children. Paradox played the part of the terrified beast with a highly developed flight instinct, walking toward them until he was about ten paces away, snorting at the air through delicate, velvety nostrils, his tail flicking back and forth in agitation. He could smell fear ripe on them, the child in particular. The adult tried to close the distance between them and he played hard to get, taking steps back in the direction of the river. After a few minutes of the game, he let her take hold of his reins and get close enough to be able to put a foot in the stirrup and swing herself over onto his back. Impatient, he didn't wait for her to pull the child up. Pushing off his powerful hindquarters, he sprang into a flat-out gallop toward the river, changing as he went. His eyes glowed red and his coat turned an underwater hue of green. Chunks of his flesh were missing, exposing the muscle and bone underneath, and herbivore molars tapered to deadly points. The woman on his back was trying in vain to dislodge herself from his sticky hide and the child left behind was loosing high pitched screams.
The Kelpie plunged into the river, dragging his victim with him. A sound of rolling thunder briefly covered up the screams as soon as his tail hit the water. The strong current rushed around them as he dragged his catch down to the depths of the river, where he didn't wait until she was fully dead and drowned before he began gorging himself, downing every last part of the body until nothing was left but the entrails. Those he tossed back out onto the bank once he was done, surfacing with blood smeared muzzle to see the distraught girl had fled. In her place was an oblivious man, his focus turned toward some other bit of carnage nearby.
Angry because of the missed opportunity, Paradox slapped his tail against the water, thunder sounding each time. The river swelled, flooding rapidly out toward the man until when it hit his ankles, it seemed to grab him with invisible hands, dragging him back toward the waiting water horse. He touched him with his muzzle, making contact so that he stuck and he was able to pull him in. It wasn't long before more entrails were thrown out onto the bank.
Satisfied for the time being, he emerged from the river, slowly fading back to the black horse. He rolled in the mud created by his flood, then stood relaxing, listening to the cacophony of the Hunt, letting his meal digest. Only then did he shift yet again, this time to the bipedal man, hair still dripping wet with bits of seaweed caught in it. The human, Ivarr as he called himself, always left a robe by the river because he had learned rather quickly that it was frowned upon to walk around naked. He pulled it on and sat down on a rock by the bank, eyeing the discarded innards, already beginning to hunger for more.