dark side of the morning - brine

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Around him, the tussocks of grass rattle loudly. The wind that sweeps in from the west is warm with the scent of the ocean, and Ivar almost imagines he can taste the salt in the air. It is a stark contrast to the snow beneath his hooves (shallow though it may be), and the general chill of the air. Spring is coming quickly, and as the scaled stallion browses halfheartedly he can taste the fresh shoots of grass beneath the winter’s dry. The piebald stallion often lingers in this space north of Sylva. The scenery is nothing spectacular (broad meadows and little bits of forest) but he does like the river itself. Deceptively deep and flavored with the sea as much as the mountain snowmelt, Ivar enjoys swimming there. He’s still damp from such a swim, and though the brisk wind has whipped away most of the water, some still beads along the matte black and pearlescent white of his scales. His corded mane is wet as well, and he tosses it from his line of vision as something moves ahead of him. It’s a mare, a blue roan. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but she’s still a face in the otherwise empty meadow. He whickers a greeting to her, a friendly invitation to come closer and socialize. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis

@[Brine]
Sorry it took me like 6 years to post D: