11-26-2017, 04:29 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The spotted mare is verbose, a trait that Ivar lacks. It is not bothersome (there has to be some balance to the world, after all), and it does allow him to get to know her more. The way she meets his eye after mentioning sharing fruit with a special someone is plain, as is her admission that she lacks such a someone. The invitation that Ivar had given Kindred to Loess included an invitation to live as his herdmare, and he finds the mare with her freckled coat to be attractive. He’d willingly be such a someone for her, so long as she knew that there would always be others. Ivar is generous with his affections; it helps to keep the bodies out of the sea. She says that she would like to be of use and Ivar nods agreeably. The kingdom then, though he does not give up hope that perhaps she might choose both. “Loess is…” A rustling in the nearby greenery distracts him, and Ivar turns to find Ichor emerging. Ivar smiles, and as she comes closer he reaches out to her, gently drawing her in beside him. There is a minor command to relax in his touch, but he does not force it, and he rests his muzzle gently on her shoulder for just a moment. Long enough to establish propriety, a nameless sort of satisfaction that he has always found necessary. There is a tingling on his scaled nose, familiar only with golden Ichor nearby. The soft scales of her body shed as he touches her, leaving a powdery residue behind. It’s very interesting, and Ivar is smiling contently as he looks from Ichor to Kindred. “This is Ichor,” he tells the appaloosa mare, “and Ichor, this is Kindred. She’s come to live in Loess. I wanted to show her pomegranates and I thought you might know where the closest ones are.” minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus |