i see a bad moon rising - Isobell

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Ivar is going to fail this test of his own making. He had been so certain, so sure of the way that she looked up at him from eyes so like Castile’s that this would be an easy feat. She was a girl, like a sister, and safe in her position as well. There have been other young ones, children drawn in by something fascinating, and it was easy enough to send them away. With their toothpick legs and innocent smiles, they held no true appeal for the scaled creature. He has been as naïve as they were to think that Isobell would be as simple. It should be a simple feat to press a brotherly kiss to her dark forehead, to pull away with a smile and take her the rest of the way to Loess. That has been his intention all along, to prove to himself that she is as safe as Heda, as safe as a child. But Isobell is not Heda. She is herself, with too-long lashes across her storm-grey eyes, with her lithe figure pressed so firmly to his left side, with her soft coat both moonlight and moondark. She is also not a child, not with the way she says his name, the way her harmless teeth nip at the sensitive scales below his jaw. He is frozen in his uncertainty until she leans below him to heart his pulse, and he can feel the beat of her own heart against his chest. That is enough for him, and the muscles in his chest tighten, his left knee bending in preparation to swing up and over her withers. He will pull her below him, beneath him, take what she has given no other stallion, take more, and give her the same. He’s grabbed the nap of her neck without thought, canines holding her steady in preparation to throw himself atop her…when the rain begins to fall. The late summer storm is fierce and sudden, and the tobiano horses are immediately drenched by a wave of falling water. It is a shock, even more when followed by the crash of thunder, and it brings Ivar back to his senses. The stallion releases his tender grip, and too shocked to think clearly, says to Isobell with a relieved chuckle that sounds more bemused at what is surely her completly unwarranted wantoness: “You might need more supervision than I thought.” kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis