With eyes like glass; ANY, ALL

[Ivar]

i somehow entirely missed that you had replied to this D:
so so sorry!

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take ‘An orphan’, she says, at the word rattles oddlyas he repeats it internally. Her parents or dead – or simply absent. Both options seem equally unfortunate to Ivar, and yet the girl seems more defeated by her lack of geographical knowledge than she does by the fact that she is utterly alone in the world. To Ivar, who has never met someone without family, it seems her situation is too dire to worry about small things like giving a stranger directions. What did they eat, these lost children of the Den (for that must be the place he’s found himself in)? What stopped something from eating them? It is not something that Ivar has ever thought about; not something that he ever needed to consider. The pied colt had a complete nuclear family (well, as complete as it can be when the parents never speak to each other). He was never threatened with abandonment, and even as an adult of child siring age, he cannot fathom leaving a child behind or being a child alone. The tobiano stallion is accustomed to the way other react to him. That is why he is here in the Den, after all. He’d rather risk getting lost. He doesn’t notice it in the little girl, not in the way she blinks her sad eyes and shivers in the wind. He has already decided to take her in when she offers to help, and he is momentarily distracted from his offer by the way that her grey skin slides to pink. That was interesting. “I’m Ivar,” he tells her, briefly distracted by the transition of color and struggling to piece together an answer. “And for your information, I only asked you because you were the closest.” Admitting that he’s lost at all was a wounding blow to his pride; he can’t have her thinking that he’s totally helpless. “I know its north, but I took a wrong turn and ended up here.” His brown eyes look up to the sky, but it is still too close to no one to get an accurate read of direction. The sea is too distant to be of help, but that blur of the horizon might be the Mountain. Might be. “Why don’t you come with me?” he asks, looking back down at the rose colored filly. “I bet travelling is more fun than hanging out here. If you wanna come back here after Tephra I can drop you off. Or you could come back to Loess with me? ” Surely there will be someone there to take care of her. Heda maybe, or possible Zhenga. Mares are better at that sort of thing after all. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis