So many chose to come to the tropical land. So many sweet faces, upturned and eager, their eyes rolling with the tall trees that were inhabited by cackling birds who knew a further truth that waited for the pretty mares. If one listened closely enough, their secrets would be told but the pretty girls with their high laughs and stammering answers never made it very far into the the humid lands.
On this particular day, the smoke and snow stallion has beached himself upon the white sands, sunning himself after leisurely swim in the warm waters. Fish currently sated his need for food and he intended to sleep it off beneath the warm gaze of the sun, blessed and golden, a favored son in the gilded eye. Yet something shines brightly, a sharp contrast, to the silver eyes of the male beneath his shuttered eye. The lid lifts to catch the reflection of the sunlight against the gold blaze of a strange face. Lothbrok rolls to his shoulder to sit up, watching from the tangled damp strands of his mane.
Her scent is easily brought to him on the downward breeze. She is not of Ischia and she is certainly not kelpie. Lothbrok draws his feet beneath him to rise, shaking the pale sand off in a cloud. He does not hide his presence and the surely the young mare would heed the sound of his furious movement, the dark mane and tail flying without care. Lothy eyes the blue roan for a moment as he is sure he has attracted her attention. Silver eyes rove the form that was nearing womanhood but still held the awkwardness of a filly's blush. She would blossom to a lovely mare one day.
His father's voice in his head wonders what she would look like beneath the waves, stilled with the darkness of her mane fanning the gold blaze, forever youthful and beautiful...but his belly is full and he is happy to converse with someone other than his family. "Hello there." He finally released the words from dark lips, the forelock of his long hair covering a silver eye while the other is exposed and staring at her. "Welcome to Ischia...looking for someone?" Lothbrok had once been the spitting image of a young Ivar before his change but now he stands a reminder of what once was.
On this particular day, the smoke and snow stallion has beached himself upon the white sands, sunning himself after leisurely swim in the warm waters. Fish currently sated his need for food and he intended to sleep it off beneath the warm gaze of the sun, blessed and golden, a favored son in the gilded eye. Yet something shines brightly, a sharp contrast, to the silver eyes of the male beneath his shuttered eye. The lid lifts to catch the reflection of the sunlight against the gold blaze of a strange face. Lothbrok rolls to his shoulder to sit up, watching from the tangled damp strands of his mane.
Her scent is easily brought to him on the downward breeze. She is not of Ischia and she is certainly not kelpie. Lothbrok draws his feet beneath him to rise, shaking the pale sand off in a cloud. He does not hide his presence and the surely the young mare would heed the sound of his furious movement, the dark mane and tail flying without care. Lothy eyes the blue roan for a moment as he is sure he has attracted her attention. Silver eyes rove the form that was nearing womanhood but still held the awkwardness of a filly's blush. She would blossom to a lovely mare one day.
His father's voice in his head wonders what she would look like beneath the waves, stilled with the darkness of her mane fanning the gold blaze, forever youthful and beautiful...but his belly is full and he is happy to converse with someone other than his family. "Hello there." He finally released the words from dark lips, the forelock of his long hair covering a silver eye while the other is exposed and staring at her. "Welcome to Ischia...looking for someone?" Lothbrok had once been the spitting image of a young Ivar before his change but now he stands a reminder of what once was.