08-27-2017, 05:47 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The treeline has started to become too familiar. Ivar has paced the border for over an hour now. When he had started, the sun was barely touching the western mountains. Now it has begun to sink, punctured by the distant peaks and bleeding pink and orange across the darkening sky. Soon it will be too dark to see, and Ivar knows that it is now or never. He has been lingering in the no-man’s land between Sylva and Loess, unwilling to reenter his parents’ kingdom but also unsure as to his welcome in Loess. He had left so quickly last time. Everything had felt so rushed, so serious, so finite. Will Heda even want to see him again? He hopes so, and it is with that bit of courage that he moves toward the hilly realm. It feels odd to be so dry, but time spent out of the water will do that. The matte black of his scales absorb the fading light of the sun, but the young stallion still shivers as he moves. The muscle beneath his coat is well-defined, and though he lacks a winter coat in this chilly weather, he is otherwise the picture of health. He is quite literally: tall, dark, and handsome. Stopping at the edge of the kingdom, he waits. The young male still remembers his run-in with Merida, and while he holds no ill-feelings toward the redhead, their interaction had served to cement his respect of borders. He calls out for @[Heda], his voice echoing off the twilight hills. |
@[Heda]