i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
She knows she should be angry with him. She burns to hate him and his flesh and the way he touched her body. She wants to hate the way he moves, his smile, the way he tenderly tugs at a fetlock. She hates herself for the way she looks back as she jerks her legs away and she hates the way she smiles at him with something so deep and strong that it may very well crush them both...
"Ivar..." His name is between the thin white cap of waves. Her breathing has eased to a natural give and pull but
the word his name collapses her tongue with its heft. She watches how he moves with the ease of no land creature. He is on one side then another and then pressed to the thinness of her barrel and listing to the
-woosh woosh- of her breathing. They were indeed too late but Isobell is not ashamed. This...all of it...has happened in the glint of a winter's eve and the thrash of bodies and tempers. There would be time and the way she yearned for his touch despite it all...there would be a blossom of promise in her womb soon.
His mark upon her withers would prove that.
"No-", she replies, "Show me. I want to see and know everything." Her hungry is strong to understand this change. She is ravenous with curiosity but the mare cannot hide the sheepish smile that is brought to her lips the way he touches the white scaled place of her brow.
Damn you, Ivar.
