anyone;

[Izmir]

If only Izmir could see into her father’s thoughts and see how she is the equivalent of a boar on a silver platter. Raise her until she is primed for butchering. Maybe then she would have run away, but her ignorance keeps her planted in front of him. Fleeing doesn’t cross her mind; she is too stubborn to cower away from his crocodilian smile. There are shadows in his mildly terrifying smile, lines that prickle her skin in awareness.

Do not turn your back on him, she tells herself. He doesn’t seem like a father to hold her close and trail kisses down her neck, to raise her in a traditional sense. They keep a distance between them, but the space is far from empty. There are steadied breaths and scrutinizing eyes, unspoken words and twisting thoughts.

To act on bravery, Izmir inches closer. Still, her chin is lifted as though that signifies great strength (what could she really do to him?). A snort quivers her small nostrils. ”I just wanted to be near the water,” she wasn’t sent here on a mission, ”so I guess you will have to determine whether or not I show promise.” Her airy voice trails away in thoughtfulness, her eyes darting toward the sea. She watches the white crests come and go with the lull of the waves, some dying far out while others lap at the sand. He emerged from the water – indicated by his soaked locks and rivulets down his skin – and, again, she pieces everything together. Blinking, Izmir regards him again in time to answer. ”Izmir,” she offers confidently enough, her voice flattened while her thoughts swirl. ”Ivar,” she echoes, memorizing him and the name he provides, ”Father.” She didn’t expect to know both her parents, but fate has a funny way of playing out. All she wanted was to explore a distant island; she never expected to meet her sire.

Narrowing her cerulean eyes, Izmir finally asks the question that has been simmering. ”Ivar,” why is it easier to say his name instead of father? ”What are you, exactly?” Was he one of the dark shapes in the water? Or maybe he was just dousing himself in the shallows – a normal thing, right? – before walking to her. Drawing in a deep breath, she curiously traces his scales and how they catch the light. ”You’re why I have scales,” she thinks aloud to him, reflecting on mother and remembering only her antlers. There is no other explanation except his truth, that she is a child of his.



@[Ivar]