bottom of the deep blue sea; ivar

[Isobell]

Isobell

i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

She feels like she is floating. The combination of the music and the plentiful foods make her laugh and laugh and laugh. Isobell talks to equines if nameless faces, listening to their drunken stories, giggling at their jokes, dipping away when they become tangled in their words so she may catch a glimpse of the moonlight and quench the power ache of thirst.

Her skin is slick with sweat from dancing, her hair plastered to her brow and neck due to the late indian summer. Isobell relishes in the touch of cool breeze that soothes her as she nears a small stream far enough away so that the voices are a dull lullaby with an occasional pluck of laughter. She can hear the peep of frogs and watch as a cloud drifts lazily across the bloody harvest moon.

The witching hour is upon them.

The young mare enjoys the solitude as it slowly replaces the hum in her ears befoir she lowers her lips to the water to drink deeply. The party was not over but she was happy to take some time away. It had all been overwhelmingly wonderful but she cannot help but to look every so often over her shoulder it felt like there were eyes upon her.

The apples she had eaten earlier had made her heady, giggling to herself though nothing was particularly funny. She sighs loudly as a smile pulls at her lips, silver eyes reflecting the crimson surface of the red moon's smile. She knows she should be heading back soon before she was discovered to be missing but maybe just a few more minutes to enjoy the end of her evening was in order.