bottom of the deep blue sea||IVAR

[Isobell]

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isobell

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The forest made her dizzy. She walked in small circles, following the length of pines and oaks and maples. Their arms stretched for days as their eyes turned to God, begging for the rains of spring but autumn had embraced them in a cold grasp, sinking their blood sap deeper into their roots.

Isobell was new to all of this. She had not seen such tall things before. Sure in Nerine there were trees but these were -TREES-. Giants in their own rights, some centuries old. Her small head is tilted upward, pewter eyes watching, a smile curling the edges of her lips. The yearling was oblivious to almost all else.

Sounds occasionally reached her. Smells would draw her away at times but the sky was forever stealing her away. She watched how clouds spattered and the grays were like pristine watercolors being blended across concrete. Something catches her attention from the edge of her painted face. "Oh." Someone catches her attention. The young girl's body stiffens slightly as she halts her daydream mid stride to smile a bit crookedly, watching with mirror eyes. "Hello."

i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Recently emerged from the river, Ivar stands still on the bank. The late autumn air is cold on his damp body, but he knows that it will quickly drip away. His scales do not hold the water as long as his horsehide did, and while Ivar is grateful for the ease of movement he now has in the water, he does sometimes miss the sensation of carrying around a bit of the water with him. His dreaded mane does still drip heavily, and he tosses it effortlessly to the other side of his neck and out of his brown eyes as he turns to face the forest. The whole world looks like Sylva in the Fall. These trees though, will eventually lose their autumn colors and become naught but bare bones. Ivar’s homeland will remain evergold; but there is something appealing about this place as well. All places have their lures, the young piebald stallion has found. He is thinking of thme as he walks, and he is as startled by the appearance of Isobell as she is by his. “Hi.” Replies the smoky black colt. He’s easily rebalanced; socialization has always been his forte, even before he had his good looks to smooth the way. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Though Ivar doesn’t know the yearling, there is something about her that strikes a faint memory. She looks familiar, but he is sure that he has never met her. It’s not until he takes another look, and realizes that if she had an orange eye and not matching silver ones he would have realized sooner. “You’re Castile’s sister, aren’t you?” A better question might have been “Are you Nayl’s daughter?” but the minutiae of politics don’t bother him, especially not out here in the wilds. Ivar has only met the Nerinian Queen once (though has seen her from a distance a time or two). Castile is another matter entirely; Ivar considers the boy a good friend. He had not known that Castile had a younger sibling, but surely this girl who looks so much like him – and like his mother – must be his sibling. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis

[Isobell]

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isobell

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The smokey painted boy speaks as smoothly as the river that flows near them. His tongue like a brush and her ears are a canvas, he weaves the colors ever so delicately.

Isobell had startled, sidestepped and regained composure in a single heartbeat. The yearling is unfamiliar with the boy but he washes over her like warm sunlight on a chilly autumn day. The black and white marked girl finds a small smile touching the briefest edges of her lips. Her pewter eyes find his rich brown ones in response to meet his gaze as he speaks openly, candidly to her.

"You know my brother?" The girl confirmed his question with her own. She watches the drape of sunlight catch and glitter across the scales that covered his body. he was certainly a curious creature and quite unlike any Isobell had seen. She also finds herself enjoying the way his features are made, handsome and youthful but no doubt one day would grow rugged and dashing with age. Iso steals her eyes away now as she finds herself staring and would blush if it were possible.

"I'm Isobell." Her voice is small as she offers her name, given by her mother and father. "What's yours?" The innocence of her voice is evident as she returns her attention to her scaled company, her own skin was dry and warm as the chill of autumn sweeps a dry whisper of leaves skittering past their legs.

i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Despite their initial surprise at meeting, it seems the two young horses have settled into amicable conversation. Isobell isn’t looking nearly so startled, and she responds to Ivar’s friendliness in turn. He is accustomed to caution from others, but it seems Isobell is appreciative rather than wary of his unique appearance. “I do,” he replies with a nod. “We met in Nerine, and I just saw him the other day by the river.” A criusp breeze whips through the woods just then, and Ivar shivers. The chill of the water does not bother him, but the air is another story. The piebald boy looks down at the small girl with her quiet voice, and thinks that perhaps it might not be so bad to have a little sibling of his own. He could show them Sylva – and the rest of Beqanna. He could teach them how to swim and run and climb. He does not think that Castile will mind if Ivar practices his ‘big brother’ skills with Isobell. “I’m Ivar,” he tells her. “I live in Sylva.” The admission of his homeland is another positive in his favor; their homes are bound together. Shaking his head clears the water that drips from his mane to his neck. “Are you here by yourself?” With any luck Castile is nearby; Ivar would like to see his friend again. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis