i'm not a girl. i'm a storm with skin . ivar - any

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The sweat streaks his piebald hide, and Ivar’s dark forelock is all but plastered across the left side of his white face. He has been running ,checking the perimeter, and has just drawn up short, his head raised as he pinpoints the source of the unfamiliar scent. The summer air is heavy with scents, but only one does not belong. It’s from farther south, closer to the border that Loess shares with Sylva. Ivar moves quickly, traversing the valleys between the numerous hills with ease and familiarity. He is breathing heavily by the time he finds the intruder, and when he draws up in front of her he looks almost…disappointed? She is not at all what Ivar had been expecting, and it shows in the curious way he lowers his head to her eye level, clearly completely unconcerned for his own wellbeing. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, concern in his brown eyes. “Are you lost?” kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis