10-18-2017, 07:18 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Together, they look out over the rolling hills of Loess. It is not so grand a place as Nerine or Sylva, but he has grown to love it. He knows these rocks and ridges as well as he does the length of his pale nose. If at times he longs for morewater and less land, it is a desire that he can quell at the bottom of a spring, hushing it in the darkness. Heda needs him here, the stallion knows. There were a few others when he’d arrived, a handful of shady figures on the edges of the kingdom, but they have remained just that. The life that has come to Loess is the past few months have been of Ivar’s doing –his recruits, his visitors, his own activity. Ivar tells himself that everything changed with the visit of the wraith, but the truth is that the quiet queen has become more withdrawn even before that. He does not know much of the history of this small kingdom, but he wonders if it has always been so still. All the more reason to revive it, he reasons with an optimistic smile. “The Queen,” he tells Castile, “she and I are…” He trails off with a somewhat less open smile. What label can he give them? She’s professed her love – if not verbally then most certainly through her magic – but he remains in something of a limbo. He stands beside her during the daylight, but night leaves him free to pursue more challenging prey. Heda is a soft resting place to return to when he’s washed himself clean of the scent of blood and other women. Ivar does no consider it deception (how can it be, when it is only natural?) but he suspects that it is something about which the buckskin pegasus would prefer to remain in the dark. He’s is keeping her safe, after all. That’s all he’s doing. Fortunately for the black and white Ivar, Castile seems distracted. His is scenting the air, and for a moment Ivar is puzzled. Then he realizes –yes: Isobell – a moment before Castile says her name. Castile is the only reason he knows the young princess at all. She reminds him of his friend frequently, but she is no longer the child he had once known, and the thoughts he has of her are far more mature as well. “For a visit,” he tells Castile, “I’m sure she’s somewhere out there.” Ivar gestures to the west. Isobell has no interest in leaving Nerine permanently, Ivar knows, and he’s made no effort to try to convince her otherwise. The protectiveness in his friend’s voice does not go unnoticed, but as it is neither directed nor disapproving of him, he does not bristle at the sound. “Do you want to go look for her?” |