10-19-2017, 07:44 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Isobell is still holding back from him. He can hear the rapid flutter of her heart, smell her autumn readiness, and yet she still rebuffs him. It should not be possible, and yet it happens still. His attempt to stir jealously is tossed away with a quiet laugh, careless and regal. It’s to be a long game then, Ivar decides. He will win in the end, he is certain, but it is best to make the path to success as clear as possible. So as he brushes by her to get to the water, he presses a silent command of “want me” into her flesh, one that will fade as soon as they no longer are in contact. This is her first autumn as a woman – let her think that this is simply the way her body responds to a stallion’s touch. She will be disappointed by others, Ivar thinks, whatever soft-eyed boy the iron maiden chooses will never heat her blood in quite the same way. The idea of Isobell thinking of him while with another is the opposite emotion he’d tried to stir in her with his previous words, but the anticipation of it is enough to have him leaping farther into the small spring. The water splashes up against his scales, ridding them of the grime of travel that falling rain hadn’t quite been able to sweep away. His attempt to drench Isobell goes rather well, and her high-pitched voice brings a delighted grin to his pale face. He shakes away the water that she splashes at him, telling her that: “Haven’t you heard? The hot springs of Loess are renowned for their luxury. Surely your delicate princess hooves are feeling rather pampered now?” His dark gaze stays fixed on her own for a moment, but he does not stop them from roving. He’s already rather familiar with her pied figure, but the way the water laps at her sides requires a different sort of inspection. This is why the kelpie has always kept Heda away from the water. The water isn’t safe. Water is for hunting and for hurting, but he does not want to hunt Isobell (not in this way, at least). Ivar knows the legends of his kind – that a mate is safe in the water – but Isobell is just a pretty girl. She won’t be safe, and he can’t risk it. Unconsciously he has taken a few steps closer, unbridled hunger in his gaze (when coupled with the suggested lust and his looks is likely to be a recipe for disaster). He stops rather suddenly, a sharp sigh and a frown on his handsome face. “Castile is coming to Loess.” He tells her abruptly, the emotion tie to his closest friend acting as a semi-successful lifeline. He will lose Castile if this happens, if he hunts her in the water. “Maybe we should go find him.” |