"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Boy.
He called quietly to her son when he finally found him. By the water, of course, always by the water. Like his father. Where’s your mother today?
He didn’t expect an answer, not a clear one anyway. The boy either never really knew what his mother did or didn’t care to share it with him. Vague answers, as always. Like his mother.
Like his father, too, he supposed.
He stepped up to the water, peering down into the depths, dark hair falling over a dark face. He knew he could hear him. Ivar always heard him. Asking him where Djinni was had become almost routine, now. The same question, with the same answer. Like clockwork. So he was already nodding silently when Ivar breached the surface, already knowing the words that would come. The boy could be as unpredictable as his mother, as his father too, he supposed, but in this, it was always the same. Just as Stillwater would always ask the same. Just the same.
Tell me more about the places you’ve seen, then? The people you’ve met. He often wondered if one day Ivar just wouldn’t return home. Maybe he didn’t even like home anymore with all the adventures he’d had already. Some day, one of these other places would entice him to stay. Would Stillwater ever see him again after that? Another thought was always present in his mind as well: did Ivar know about his chain? But he would never ask. He never brought it up by choice, not to anyone.
Where's your favorite so far? he asked, lowering himself to lay in the shallows, water reaching halfway up his sides and across his chest. He always asked his son questions when he saw him. One day he probably wouldn't get the chance to know him anymore. May as well do as much as he could now. Each day could be the last day that he saw him.
he apparently felt like using old html again.. its been a while xD
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same
As he’s grown older, the soft strands of his child’s mane have begun to twist into longer strands, twining with the coarser hairs of an adult. His time in the water binds them tighter, and Mother has given up on trying to groom them out. Ivar has told her that he is grown now, that he doesn’t need his mother to worry with how he looks, that he likes the way the corded locks feel against his skin. (They looks silly, truly, half-grown and dangling, but perhaps in a year or so they might be something close to intriguing).
The young colt is lying half-in the water, watching an exceptionally brave minnow spin curiously around his white forelegs. The crunch of hooves on leaves doesn’t startle him, and he only flicks one ear back with the cool disinterest of an overconfident young predator. When he breathes in a familiar scent though, the indifference falls away.
“Dad!” He says, turning his head up toward his father and startling the silvery fish back into the safety of deeper water. “Hey!”
“She’s somewhere else,” He replies, repeating the familiar phrase. Sometimes Ivar knows where Djinni is, but most times he does not. Today, she’d most likely looking out at the sea, where she has been in her free time ever since Pangea fell. She won’t tell him why she watches the water, but he knows better than to ask. He loves his parents, but they are not always the most forthcoming of creatures.
Stillwater comes to lay in the water beside him, and Ivar leans against the older stallion contentedly. He is not too old for physical affection yet, and he enjoys the comfort of his father at his side.
“I went to Ischia,” he replies. “I like the saltwater, and they have a jungle and springs and Kylin showed me the worst flowers ever. And I went to the bottom of Hyaline and Warrick showed me the volcano in Tephra. I did not like that – too much smoke and the water is too warm – but they have beaches like Ischia. The Taiga is like Sylva, but they have pine trees and it is colder.” He chatters happily, leaving out details that he has forgotten or finds unimportant. “I want to go to Loess,” he tells his father, “That’s the only place I haven’t been.”
When he is asked about his favorite, it takes him a while to answer. He has liked all of them; each had their own appeal. Still, none are yet better than Sylva, where his family and his crescent pond are always there for him to return to. “This is my favorite.” Says the piebald colt. “I like it here best.” For now, he doesn’t say (doesn’t yet know). Someday, something might beckon him away from the fire forest where he was born, but it has not yet come.
-------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------
06-10-2017, 11:57 PM (This post was last modified: 06-13-2017, 12:32 AM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
His boy senses him, hears him, and only flicks an ear in quiet acknowledgement. Until recognition rippled through him, and he turned with a ready greeting. Dad. It was still strange to be called that. He’d never thought he’d have kids. Ever. Hadn’t even meant to. Djinni though… Well, it couldn’t have been helped. And he honestly didn't regret it, except for the distance it seemed to put between he and his boy’s mother. He hated that distance.
He lowered casually and lay beside Ivar, secretly soaking in his time with him. He was still convinced one day his son just wouldn’t return. Tracking him would probably be possible. Maybe. If he made himself available to be found. Bit trickier to do through the water without the other body, the other senses. But maybe he wouldn’t have to. He hoped that was the case as his only offspring leaned against him. Hmm. He also hoped Ivar didn’t care for siblings. They probably wouldn’t happen.
”I went to Ischia,” Ivar began, telling him how he liked the saltwater. Stillwater grimaced openly. Seawater was not his preferred choice by far, only terribly convenient for travel and hiding. It felt coarse and clinging, to him, but his boy liked it. He’d met someone named Kylin, seen jungles and flowers, swam to the bottom of the lake Hyaline. He’d seen that disgusting volcano that could occasionally be smelled on an especially determined breeze, all sulfur and smoke and choking. At least Ivar hadn’t found that to his liking. Gross.
”I want to go to Loess,” he continued. Stillwater hadn’t heard of that one yet, though, and kept indifferent. ”That’s the only place I haven’t been.”
You’ve been to Nerine a good bit, then? He couldn’t help but ask about his old home. Couldn’t help but wonder if it looked different, if his cave was still in place and uninhabited, if the tide still rose and locked it safely beneath the sea. Do you like everyone there?
”This is my favorite,” Ivar said after a long pause for consideration, ”I like it here best.”
Good, he said with a nod, nonchalant despite that it pleased him. It still remained fact though, that one day his boy wouldn't come home. Do you hunt, he asked casually, still uncertain if the bloodlust had passed to his only child. What if it had? What if he attacked his mother one day? That would be the worst possible thing that could happen, but it wasn't something he was going to share unless he was required to. He waited calmly, a mask of secrets even to his own son.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same
Ivar does miss the company of other children. Sylva is quiet, full of old trees and old souls; there are no other children. Of course, it’s not yet occurred to him that siblings are even a thing; it’s always just been himself, Mom, and Dad.
Well, himself and Dad, and himself and Mom.
It doesn’t strike him as odd that the three of them do not spend time together; he has never known anything different. He is loved and safe, that is all that really matters. Ivar is equally glad to spend time with both of his parents, and he leans comfortably into the warmth of his father at his side. He doesn’t see Stillwater’s grimace at the mention of the sea. Ivar is looking out at the rippling water in front of them.
Dad asks about Nerine, and Ivar nods in response. “Yeah,” he says, “I like it there. That’s where Castile and Bristol live.” It doesn’t occur to him that his father might not know them – parents still know almost everything. “Did you know that Castile is dragonborn?” He says the word with the same sort of hushed reverence that Castile had used when he’d told Ivar of it. For a moment he’s silent, nodding to himself as he looks out at the water before turning his brown eyes back on his father.
“Oh yeah,” he says with a proud little smile on his pale face, “I’m really good too; Mom even said.” Ivar finds great pleasure in chasing down the narrow bluegill and slippery bass. He’d even caught a catfish last week!
-------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------
