05-27-2018, 05:51 PM
Her steps are weighted with burden from a widely expanded barrel and her disdain for the kelpie's absence. She walks with one well formed hoof in front of the other, a pace well known and easily executed by the heavily pregnant water queen. She has long left the shores of their private isle when Ivar (despite his silver tongue and coaxing voice) had left her with their smoke and ash son to pursue a war that truly involved neither of their interests. The pied mare had chosen to side along the stallion in the sanctuary of their secret grotto till day passed before she knew it was best to move.
Lothbrok is forming into a fine young stallion. He will grow to be taller than his dam and already his eyes are sharp with predatory fixation. Isobell knows there will be a day when the boy will no longer abide ehr stern intentions and will go to roam the waters hungry and lustful. He is Ivar's son after all and to hope for a gentled beast would mean his own demise.
The pair emerged from the glass like surface of the clear waters. Isobell is seen first as she lurks with the tips of her delicately cupped ears breaking the water's surface before the silver eyes are gleaming in suite. There is nothing along the shore insane enough to threaten the kelpie or her offspring. The mare finds purchase in the smooth river bed to draw herself upon the rocky shore just as Lothbrok makes a less elegant entrance and bounds along her with a well curated eye and small rounded chest. Isobell breathes slowly, her sides heaving with the weight of the foal inside.
"Lothbrok. Wait." It is not question as the shimmering scaled woman is soon aside the kelpie colt. Her dark lips reach to tug at a tangled mop of seaweed in his mane before he is soon struggling free, standing nearly her height already, to go investigate the grounds around them. After all, he is to look after his mother till father returns.
Lothbrok is forming into a fine young stallion. He will grow to be taller than his dam and already his eyes are sharp with predatory fixation. Isobell knows there will be a day when the boy will no longer abide ehr stern intentions and will go to roam the waters hungry and lustful. He is Ivar's son after all and to hope for a gentled beast would mean his own demise.
The pair emerged from the glass like surface of the clear waters. Isobell is seen first as she lurks with the tips of her delicately cupped ears breaking the water's surface before the silver eyes are gleaming in suite. There is nothing along the shore insane enough to threaten the kelpie or her offspring. The mare finds purchase in the smooth river bed to draw herself upon the rocky shore just as Lothbrok makes a less elegant entrance and bounds along her with a well curated eye and small rounded chest. Isobell breathes slowly, her sides heaving with the weight of the foal inside.
"Lothbrok. Wait." It is not question as the shimmering scaled woman is soon aside the kelpie colt. Her dark lips reach to tug at a tangled mop of seaweed in his mane before he is soon struggling free, standing nearly her height already, to go investigate the grounds around them. After all, he is to look after his mother till father returns.