could i use you as a warning sign - Heda

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Loess hadn’t satisfied him.   That is a rare thing, for Ivar is so easily intrigued. The pied horse has chalked it up to his short visit; in each of the other lands he had a fairly extended stay, with a guide that was as interested in showing him their home as he was in seeing it. The same wasn’t true for Loess. Merida had not been a willing tour guide, but an older Ivar can reflect on the experience and realize why. He’d been rather bothersome, and only Heda’s arrival had granted him entry into the hilly realm at all.   He still wonders what he had missed in Loess, and when his mind turns to the kingdom between his homeland and his favorite lake, he thinks of @[Heda] as well. Merida had told him that the buckskin mare lived there now, but Ivar had met her in the Taiga. He knows that growing up often means leaving home, but he’s not yet met anyone who had done it of their own free will. Castile had been forced out of Nerine by his mother, and Kylin had followed her family to Ischia. Ivar’s own parents have made no mention of his leaving, but he cannot help but wonder if the day is coming.   Ivar isn’t really a boy anymore; the last vestiges of his childhood were left behind in the ocean. The colt young stallion is over seventeen hands tall, with lean muscles sculpted by hours of swimming (and now, of running and spinning and sparring). Akkadian has been teaching them to fight, and Ivar shows promise. The homely look of him has metled with puberty, and the young man bears a striking resemblance to his father. Sharp-eyed and incredibly handsome, prone to silence and time in the water. He’s got his mother’s smile though, warm and contagious and charming; the combination is deadly.   Once again he stands at the edge of Loess; this time doing better to mind the border. The sun is warm on the scales (another adolescent development) of his matte black hide, and it glitters brightly on the white of his long stockings and mantle. His tail flips about in the wind, less heavy than the corded black mass of his thick mane. Pale pink nostrils flare in his bald face, taking in the quiet land in intriguing smells of foreign plants.   His brown eyes search as well, keeping an eye out for movement that might be an answer to his curious call of greeting. The red-haired mare had been quick to approach before but he hopes for both his own and Merida’s sake that the mare is on the far side of the kingdom. He’d rather not subject her to himself again, and he’s also looking for Heda as much as he is for entry into Loess. He has question for her, after all.   kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis