03-17-2018, 03:43 PM
He knows now, the source of his infinite wanderlust.
Since childhood he has longed for more, for different. Young Ivar had explored every place his feet might take him, from Nerine in the north to eastern Tephra. He’s climbed the tallest mountains and scaled the cliffs of deep caverns, and yet nothing had felt quite enough. Not until he’d found the sea, and given it to it, has he felt truly satisfied.
There are times, now and again, when he thinks of the shore and the temptations.
Those times are becoming ever more infrequent.
There is more than enough prey in the sea and his dark-eyed lover’s passion had not been quelled by the arrival of their son. He wants for nothing, and slow and slothful days are no longer foreign as they had been in Loess.
So little for him to do, yet he takes this newest set of responsibilities - fatherhood - with far more grace than he’d accepted any others.
His delight at Lothbrok’s shift is more than apparent in Ivar’s grin, and the scaled stallion reaches forward to brush his nose against Lothbrok’s shoulder.
”Faster than last time, too." He says admiringly.
The memory of his own first shift has faded in his mind, but this interaction brings it to the forefront. He’d been racing Kylin to one of the smaller Ischian islands. At first he’d not noticed at all; having a tail seemed as natural as breathing. It still does, he decides as he circles Lothbrok and tugs playfully at his son’s tail.
”Ready to swim to the bottom of the ocean?"
Since childhood he has longed for more, for different. Young Ivar had explored every place his feet might take him, from Nerine in the north to eastern Tephra. He’s climbed the tallest mountains and scaled the cliffs of deep caverns, and yet nothing had felt quite enough. Not until he’d found the sea, and given it to it, has he felt truly satisfied.
There are times, now and again, when he thinks of the shore and the temptations.
Those times are becoming ever more infrequent.
There is more than enough prey in the sea and his dark-eyed lover’s passion had not been quelled by the arrival of their son. He wants for nothing, and slow and slothful days are no longer foreign as they had been in Loess.
So little for him to do, yet he takes this newest set of responsibilities - fatherhood - with far more grace than he’d accepted any others.
His delight at Lothbrok’s shift is more than apparent in Ivar’s grin, and the scaled stallion reaches forward to brush his nose against Lothbrok’s shoulder.
”Faster than last time, too." He says admiringly.
The memory of his own first shift has faded in his mind, but this interaction brings it to the forefront. He’d been racing Kylin to one of the smaller Ischian islands. At first he’d not noticed at all; having a tail seemed as natural as breathing. It still does, he decides as he circles Lothbrok and tugs playfully at his son’s tail.
”Ready to swim to the bottom of the ocean?"