11-22-2018, 02:14 PM
The young grullo painted stallion moves beneath the waves. He is agile, quick witted, precise with his movements. Dark eyes dark trce the vibrations int he waters of fish, their silver forms slittery but glinting like treasure in the fractured sunlight. His grey hair floats out from his body list forest smoke, billowing outward as his forelegs curl to his chest. His body is shifted with the length of his tail floating in a weightless manner.
He is an image of perfection. A form of flawless face, hard muscles stropped to his bones, a child of the kelpie king.
A single dark eye shifts from his unsuspecting prey to a flicker of gold against the grey-green of the water.
"Father." The young stallion acknowledges him with a smile, sharp and handsome, an image of a younger Ivar (a young god). He is respectful, offering his muzzle, a bit of mischief in his eye to finally see his father without the watchful eye of his mother on either of them. The fish are long gone now as the grullo male converses with his sire. Lothbrok is in quite awe, proud, that this was the man who's blood was in his veins.
He is an image of perfection. A form of flawless face, hard muscles stropped to his bones, a child of the kelpie king.
A single dark eye shifts from his unsuspecting prey to a flicker of gold against the grey-green of the water.
"Father." The young stallion acknowledges him with a smile, sharp and handsome, an image of a younger Ivar (a young god). He is respectful, offering his muzzle, a bit of mischief in his eye to finally see his father without the watchful eye of his mother on either of them. The fish are long gone now as the grullo male converses with his sire. Lothbrok is in quite awe, proud, that this was the man who's blood was in his veins.