01-13-2019, 09:26 AM
The rasp of @[Raul]'s voice is telling, and Ivar's golden gaze flicks to the blood at the young stallion's lips. The Plague has shown no signs of letting up, and while Ivar appears to be immune, the same cannot be said of most of Beqanna. Raul included it seems, and most likely the horses he asks after.
"They've gone with their mother to the other island," He tells the questioning buckskin. He hasn't seen them since the Plague struck, he doesn't add. How long has that been now - a year? longer? Ivar has never been especially good at telling time, and this tropical realm where seasons are nothing but a change in the wind's direction does not help him.
Raul and Santana had left the island at the cusp of adulthood, as colts tend to do. For all that Ivar had kept the sharks from them he could not turn the boys kelpie, though he wonders if they'd have left if he had. Lothbrok and Crashe seem to have no inclination to leave the tropical Ischia, though whether that is Isobell's hold on them or their instinct he can't say. It doesn't matter, in the end, so long as they stay.
There's no place like home, the fire-haired boy says, and Ivar tuns back to him from where his gaze had wandered to the sea. The piebald stallion has lived in a great many places, but this one is by far his favorite. It is the one that belongs to him, and so naturally he belongs here. Sylva and Loess had never had enough water, and Nerine's rocky ocean had never been quite right for the aquatic creature. Too cold, too dark, but at least offset by the fire of their resident women.
"There isn't." He agrees with a nod of his damp head. "What brings you back?"
ooc: this is not as nice as the first one i wrote but at least this one was successfully posted
"They've gone with their mother to the other island," He tells the questioning buckskin. He hasn't seen them since the Plague struck, he doesn't add. How long has that been now - a year? longer? Ivar has never been especially good at telling time, and this tropical realm where seasons are nothing but a change in the wind's direction does not help him.
Raul and Santana had left the island at the cusp of adulthood, as colts tend to do. For all that Ivar had kept the sharks from them he could not turn the boys kelpie, though he wonders if they'd have left if he had. Lothbrok and Crashe seem to have no inclination to leave the tropical Ischia, though whether that is Isobell's hold on them or their instinct he can't say. It doesn't matter, in the end, so long as they stay.
There's no place like home, the fire-haired boy says, and Ivar tuns back to him from where his gaze had wandered to the sea. The piebald stallion has lived in a great many places, but this one is by far his favorite. It is the one that belongs to him, and so naturally he belongs here. Sylva and Loess had never had enough water, and Nerine's rocky ocean had never been quite right for the aquatic creature. Too cold, too dark, but at least offset by the fire of their resident women.
"There isn't." He agrees with a nod of his damp head. "What brings you back?"
ooc: this is not as nice as the first one i wrote but at least this one was successfully posted