Any.

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take She is small, but Ivar’s curious perusal of her figure has revealed that she is not weak. The dusty black of her coat hides lean muscle and is littered with the scars of a life that has not been soft. She holds her head high, with a regality that reminds him (only for a moment) of the two that he is trying to forget. Ivar suspects that this stranger is not quite like anything he has met before, especially given what she knows – or might know – about the world beyond Beqanna. There is nothing familiar in the smell of her dark coat, and he wonders if perhaps she has been gone from Beqanna so long that it has faded. Or, more curiously, perhaps she is from Beqanna before. The black mare does not look especially old, but she lacks the ethereal sense of ‘forever in her prime’ that so many immortals do. Time passes differently outside of Beqanna, Ivar has always heard, seconds take years to pass yet decades are gone in the blink of an eye. The stallion’s only source of information about this is less than reliable, and this stranger provides an unexpected potential for collaboration. “Will you be staying?” He asks abruptly He will not risk chasing her into the beyond, but if she intends to stay in Beqanna, Ivar has already decided that he will take her to Loess. She will tell him of the Beyond, and of whatever she knows of Beqanna. The knowledge will be a distraction, something to occupy his mind. The wind catches the curl of her mane, and Ivar gaze follows it down to her neck, across her withers, down the curve of her haunches. If she stays long enough, perhaps she’ll give him something to occupy his body with as well. “I’m Ivar,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “From Loess.” king of loess minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus