11-20-2017, 07:09 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The rumors were too widespread, too plentiful. Yet Ivar had doubted until the moment he saw Taiga for himself. The seaside land stretches before him, a rolling slope littered with downed and sodden trees and the very beginnings of regrowth. The downward slope of the land is difficult to see through the fog, but Ivar knows that the far north he travels, the closer the ocean will be. The kelpie does go north, picking his way through the land that smells of salt and sea, of rot and regrowth. Any semblance of a path has been soaked away by the sea, and Ivar does not expect to find anyone else out this far into the fog. There is not enough greenery here to sustain life; not yet. Beqanna had kept Taiga beneath the sea for a year, yet she has relinquished her hold just as promised. It contradicts what Ivar has been taught – this benevolence of the fairies – but he does not question it. Overhead, the sun is beginning to sink into the west. The fog, thick even in the afternoon, seems to draw tighter around him with each step. Ivar takes in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell along with the new. He releases the breath roughly, quickly – a sigh. minimal grullo tobiano king of loess |