[mature] bottom of the deep blue sea; ivar

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take He is silent the entire way back. From the forest of Sylva, across the Loessan Hills, along the mountains of Hyaline: Ivar does not mutter a single word. The scaled stallion does not look at Isobell either; his flinty gaze is unwavering on the trail ahead (and from time to time to the sides to search for danger – but never back to Isobell). He had seen a shadow in the sky for a moment, a bit of darkness, but he had quickly looked away. There could be danger on the hills, after all, anything might hide behind the bluffs. It is not until they reach the northernmost realm, not until they’ve descended the zig-zagging cliff trail and are deep into the heart of Nerine does he stop. The sand stretches ahead of him, grey and seemingly endless where it curls east along the shore. The beach is empty – these are the quiet hours just before dawn – and Ivar and Isobell are alone. She speaks at last, breaking the silence, but he does not look down to meet her gaze. “You shouldn’t have been there at all.” Ivar replies to her gratitude. His temper is worn short by exhaustion, and his hold on it is especially tenuous this close to the sea. The fresh memories of burying his face in a dark mane beneath the waves rises unbidden, and he turns suddenly toward Isobell, who is giggling slightly with the remnants of her inebriation. A gentleman would step away, so Ivar closes the space between them. She feels especially warm against the chill of the autumn wind, and for a moment he is perfectly still, soaking in the sensation of closeness. “I should go back to Loess,” Ivar says against her neck, his warmth breath beading tiny bits of moisture on the pale hairs of Isobell’s coat. Their embrace is intimate, but seems to lacking the overpowering lust of their most recent exchange. Seems to, at least, were Ivar not silently enticing her to ask him to stay. It has been some time since he’s spent the night (what is left of it anyway) in Nerine, but there is an allure to the thought of using hypnosis to tamper with Isobell’s dreams. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis