07-01-2017, 03:03 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The cold water slides effortlessly along the matte black scales. Now and again a stray bit of moonlight breaks through the clouds and casts a pearlescent glow to the swatch of white across his neck and his handsome visage. This is not the first night that Ivar has floated on the coast of the Taiga, but nor are his visits here frequent. Just once before, with a bewitching young girl as cold and translucent as the water around him. This night is already similar, and Ivar wonders – for the first time – why the universe seems to favor him so. Hus luck is impeccable, for there beside the ocean stands another girl. She is older, darker, than the first. Something about her seems familiar, the taste of her on the wind, but he is unable to identify it from this distance until she turns to look back at the trees. The moonlight catches her wings for the first time, and Ivar smiles. Not until he has crossed the black water and climbed onto the sand does he realize that the stranger is no stranger at all – it’s Azar. It doesn’t slow his approach, but the intense focus in his dark eyes lightens immediately to something warmer. (not danger. wrong season for prey.) Ivar meets her bright green eyes with a smile impeccably crafted to lower her defenses. The piebald stallion can’t help the exact way his mouth makes a smile, but he does offset it with a purposeful attempt to keep space between them. She hadn’t wanted to be crowded, he remembers. He doesn’t let on to the difficulty he has keeping his overly-polite distance, but he wonders if she knows that it had been him in the woods a week ago, if she knows how close he’d come to stealing her away, back to visit Sylva. |