10-18-2017, 07:32 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
She comes, as Ivar had known she would, and he watches her curiously as she stands beside him, staring into the water. The words she says seem more for her own benefit than his, and the pied stallion’s attention drifts. He traces the odd scales of her skin (more visible now that she stands beside him rather than in front of him) and then the paper-thin span of her wings. They are like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he’s reaching out to touch them just as she tucks them tightly in preparation. The movement reminds him what he has been waiting for. He’d thought she’d just duck her head into the water, take a breath, see how it felt. Instead, it seems that she’s chosen all or nothing, and leaps into the river without much warning. Intrigued at every level – adventurer, kelpie, stallion – he follows after her, his own descent into the water far more graceful than hers. There’s a long exhalation of bubbles –typical, he decides, for air to leave and water remain – and then she is oddly still for a little too long. He’s coming closer, concern in his dark eyes, and then she blinks her large eyes open again. They glitter in the low light below the water, rather like his own pale scales. Ivar smiles, and tilts his head in a nonverbal: “What do you think?” Speaking under the water is something he’s never quite managed, and even if he had, the current is likely to sweep any sound away before it reaches her. Ischor does not look as though she’s flailing, which must mean that her gills are working as expected. As he watches her, Ivar realizes that he’s never been below the water like this with anyone but his father. He’s taken mares down, of course, but their eyes have always been closed (for any number of reasons). Golden Ichor is watching him though, her unique eyes focused on his. He feels strangely seen for the first time, and odd sensation when he is so accustomed to being alone below the water. |