11-04-2017, 04:53 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Kylin is gentle and devoid of suspicion, her inquiry about springtime brings a soft smile to Ivar’s white scales. The lavender and white mare has been a constant in his life since he was a child, and yet she still breathes, living proof of Westermarck’s theory. With his head resting across her withers, Ivar breathes in the familiar salty scent of the ocean that is all but embedded into her skin. Kylin smells of freedom, of a life in the sun and the surf. The stallion is reluctant to let her go, but he knows she wants to see the other animals. A life with only parrots – that he finds hard to imagine. “I’ll stay here,” he tells her. “But I want to see Ischia again soon. We had a visit from someone you might have seen recently. Do you know a mare named Circinae?” The green mare’s time here is weighing on his mind; Ivar is unable to keep it at bay. There are far more concerns than he’d ever imagined; he is starting to see why Heda had seemed relieved. |