10-18-2017, 09:06 AM
isobell
She can barely hear his warning over the rapid echo of her beating heart, a steady hum of blood in her heard but she does not miss it entirely. Silver eyes cannot hope but to roll at his small remark. "The queen's lover, eh?" She does all but laugh. "So you have settled down with a jealous woman?" A smirk slides all too easily over her lips. Isobell cannot hide the look of woe she has for the handsome man. There would be a lot of heads to roll over the painted stallion but Isobell's would not be one of them. She simply flicks her tail at the idea, banishing it away. She would gladly meet this woman with a calm smile and not think twice to Ivar coupling with her. After all, they had perhaps had a close encounter but that hardly enough to tie the princess to Ivar. It took much more than that to win over her favor. Despite the fact that Ivar is pretty and he had been given a taste of what she could offer, she is still regal, calm, and collected above it all. If the man was looking to start a quarrel between two women then he had best look elsewhere. Isobell finds that a jealous woman is a weak woman, having divulged what could be used to make her bend.
Isobell is of the iron blood. She does not bend for any man, for anyone.
She knows that she has planted a seedling with her words and her actions. She knows that Ivar will find this appalling or perhaps appealing. Either way she shakes it off with the shrugs of her pale shoulders after having a drink of the cool waters. She is lifting her head when Ivar wades deeper, mercury filled eyes watch curiously, but in a moment she is soaked to the bone (again). "Ivar!" Her voice is high as a feeble attempt is made to scold him before she joins him in the pool with water parting in white capped waves, legs lifting high with a bright grin dancing across her pretty dark lips.
"How dare you splash the Princess of Nerine?" She snorts at him with all in jest as her right fore hoof lifts, hesitates, and crashes into the water to sink then spray water into his own face. "Gosh! And my poor delicate hooves!" The woman is laughing now in reference to the way the pied stallion had teased her at the river. The silver eyes woman attempts to toss her mane but it is stuck fast and wet against the arch of her two tones neck, her tail floating out behind her like black and white water lily.
Isobell is of the iron blood. She does not bend for any man, for anyone.
She knows that she has planted a seedling with her words and her actions. She knows that Ivar will find this appalling or perhaps appealing. Either way she shakes it off with the shrugs of her pale shoulders after having a drink of the cool waters. She is lifting her head when Ivar wades deeper, mercury filled eyes watch curiously, but in a moment she is soaked to the bone (again). "Ivar!" Her voice is high as a feeble attempt is made to scold him before she joins him in the pool with water parting in white capped waves, legs lifting high with a bright grin dancing across her pretty dark lips.
"How dare you splash the Princess of Nerine?" She snorts at him with all in jest as her right fore hoof lifts, hesitates, and crashes into the water to sink then spray water into his own face. "Gosh! And my poor delicate hooves!" The woman is laughing now in reference to the way the pied stallion had teased her at the river. The silver eyes woman attempts to toss her mane but it is stuck fast and wet against the arch of her two tones neck, her tail floating out behind her like black and white water lily.
i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea