12-26-2017, 04:10 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Ivar is certain he’s about to lose his mind. The fluidity with which the damn queen changes her mind is enough to shake even the very bedrock of Beqanna; surely Ivar can’t be blamed for reacting the way he had. Nothing he ever does is right, and if it is it’s at the wrong time, and if it isn’t there’s something wrong after all. The irony of the cyclical relationship doesn’t avoid the piebald creature, but he still feels powerless to stop it. He is not entirely sure he wants to, of course, which is half the damn problem. He strides back to Loess alone, a blur of monochrome motion. The water has dried from his scaled hide, but moisture remains in his corded locks, dripping water down his hide now and again. They glow in the late afternoon light, even those on the otherwise matte black parts of his coat. The path he takes will lead him to the spring where Heda stays, and he is headed there without conscious thought. There he will be able to relax, to find calm in the haze of whatever it is that he and Isobell have caused. She will make him feel better - quite literally - and he will fall into her embrace like a sane man once more. That’s why he keeps her; she is the salve for his own self-inflicted suffering. Knowing the path as well as he knows the length of his own pale forelegs, the tall stallion is not truly watching where he is going. He rounds a curve in shallow canyon expecting to find only a quiet copse of aspen, sprinkled here and there with colorful bursts of plumeria in every color imaginable. Instead he collides into a significantly smaller someone heading the opposite direction, his broad shoulder slamming into theirs. He reaches out without thinking, his mantled neck wrapping over theirs to ensure they do not stumble. Sight alone had made him think them a child – but whose? – but as Ivar recovers his balance and takes in a breath, he realizes who it is he has caught. This is not at all what he had in mind for this late autumn evening, but it certainly washes the displeasure from his expression as quickly as Heda might have. “Come to see me again?” Asks the pale faced stallion with a grin, pulling away to run his mouth down her shoulder before releasing her entirely from his hold. She’d left to do whatever it is that mares do when they do not want to be found, and Ivar hadn’t begrudged Trissy her privacy. He had plenty else to do, after all, he did not miss a single petite mare. A mare that tastes just faintly enough of another man that Ivar wants to erase the scent completely. “Or come to say goodbye?” minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus |