09-07-2017, 08:11 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Though some might have perfect memories, Ivar is not one of them. It still takes him a moment to place the roan mare, even when she is standing directly in front of him. She no longer smells of Sylva, and so that is no help to him. It’s not unil after she gives him a once over (while he simultaneously returns the favor) and reaches toward him that he has his own ‘lightbulb moment’. “Zhenga!” he replies excitedly, reaching out to brush his own scaled muzzle against her shoulder in greeting. It has been some time since he’s been truly elated, and given his emotions a moment earlier, the sensation is even more heady. She brings back memories of a idyllic childhood, and the happiness that came before. Zehnga says that he has changed, and changed well, and Ivar shrugs with a bashful smile. He had been a rather unfortunate looking child. Two stunning parents and he was clearly the ugly duckling, at least until puberty had come along. “I’d say the same to you…” he begins, and then he eyes her with an expression that is almost judgmental, were it not for the dancing brightness in his brown eyes. “But you seem to have gotten much smaller since we last met.” It’s clearly because he is the taller one now, but he can’t help but return her long-ago ribbing about his small size. “What’ve you been up to since you left Sylva? I didn’t even know you were planning on leaving until you were already gone.” Back then, it had never occurred to the piebald colt that not everyone stayed in the place they were born. He hadn’t even begun to feel the urge of adventure back then. Now though, he has heard the siren’s call of exploration, and wonders if Zhenga had heard it as well. Perhaps she has been exploring as well; Ivar has always been interested in stories of adventure. |