i'll use you as a warning sign - Isobell

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Women seem to always be thinking of the future. It is a fascinating and unfathomable concept to the black and white kelpie. He lives solely in the present. Ivar does what he wants regardless of consequences. There has never been an insurmountable barrier in the young stallion’s path to self-satisfaction. He takes what he wants, when he wants. He wants Isobell, but it is something more than that too. He wants her to want him back, without being compelled to do so. There are no words for such a feeling – at least none that he is willing to admit to himself. He does not have time to respond to her question before she crushes him again – always thinking of the future! Why? They are happy here. They are happy now. Why can’t she just stay? Ivar is rougher in his embrace this second time, wrestling with the internal frustration that her contradictory words and actions have caused. He rests his chin on the rise of her rump, enjoying the warmth of their scales against each other from end to end. Ahead of him, the sea stretches endlessly, a black horizon lit with the last rays of a setting sun. A few stars shine in the darkness, stars he recognizes. He has not truly seen them from Nerine in years, only in memories of his childhood. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to leave Nerine?” He asks. Despite the intensity of the question, Ivar sounds disinterested, as though resigned to the answer he knows is coming. “We could find somewhere where it’s always warm. Someplace like Ischia, but better.” The kelpie is musing aloud, mindlessly drawing circles in the scales of her back with her muzzle. The questions are rhetorical, and Ivar pulls away, moving back and turning until he faces her directly. “But no.” He answers his own musing questions. “You have duty. Duty and honor and responsibility, blah blah blah.” His words are sarcastic, but he is gentle as he presses a fleeting kiss to the bridge of her nose before pulling back. “But do let me know if you change your mind.”He places another kiss, but this time lingers, sliding farther until the bridge of his own nose is flush to her neck. He inhales deeply, and finds that Nerine’s scent is indistinguishable from Isobell’s. Ivar releases the breath in a sigh, but does not pull away from the tobiano mare. king of loess minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus