12-01-2017, 08:45 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take When she leans into him, Ivar sighs contentedly into the salt-crisp wave of her dark hair, lipping gently at the smooth dark scales along her neck. He does not protest when she pulls away, but his there is disappointment in his dancing eyes as she tells him simply to do what he wants. He’d always intended to, of course, but he finds her lack of a protest is more grating than he’d expected. The seasalt princess has always parried back with gusto; he finds this queen to be soft and disappointing. Her politeness is not what he wants, even with paired with the playful nip of her teeth as she slides away from his grasp. Ivar does not move to follow her this time, and there is an uncharacteristic solemnity to his pale face as he allows her to become more distant. “Does Loess not keep you entertained?” She says. There, there she is, hiding in that playful smirk. That is his Isobell, not this polite creature with important responsibilities. That is his woman, fiery and bold and lovely. “It does,” he replies honestly, “but I do not want Loess. I want you.” He does not expect her to come, he realizes. She stands, tall and beautiful, a vision against the granite cliffs of her homeland. This is where she belongs, in this grey and chilly land. She has said as much, but Ivar has always chosen to ignore what he does not want to hear. The kelpie is sure that he could make her come, could reach forward and press the need for the sea and for him into her heart to replace these silly responsibilities. He’s done the same countless times before, overcome the protests of less interesting women in the hunt for his own satisfaction. Yet it is Isobell’s stubborn refusal that makes her all the more enticing, her refusal to give in to what Ivar knows she really wants. minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus |