Offer me that deathless death. Ivar.

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Ivar grins at her skepticism, amused at how quickly she seems to have formed an opinion of him. She’s not wrong, of course, but Ivar has always enjoyed playing games. He is a master at pretending, after all, but the low laugh in his throat as she nips at his neck is genuine. They wade through the water, a familiar warmth against his legs and belly, and when they reach the sands of Ischia, he turns back to listen to Trissy’s words. He finds his kingship rather uninteresting, and is much more curious about the origins of the black mare. Her retelling lacks any emotion, but Ivar is captivated regardless. The Forsaken Valley. He has heard of the place, knows tales of it, but nothing more. That kingdom had been swept away with all the others, lost beneath the sea. Perhaps one day he’ll find it out there in the water. “It suited me,” she says. “It did,” he agrees. He moves closer, the fading light given him an excuse to do so (though he does not truly need one). “There are mountains here too,” Ivar tells her, thinking of the peaks of Hyaline that are visible on a clear day from anywhere in Loess. “Though they’re quite a bit more habitable than the ones it sounds like you’re used to.” His dark chest brushes against her shoulder as he takes another step closer, and he turns his head to brush away a bit of saltwater that pools on her back. Ivar has been very good, had not glanced back as they crossed the water together. She had arrived whole and unharmed despite swimming with a kelpie. His touch lingers and his chin rests along her back; he allows himself this. There will be more later, after all, and he smiles to himself at the thought of her future encounter with Heda. Perhaps he’ll stay away from Loess for a while, spend the early fall chasing Trissy through Ischia. By the time they return to Loess she’ll be his enough to infuriate Heda, a situation that Ivar will enjoy diffusing almost as much as he will enjoy the initial chase itself. The drifting pattern of his thoughts is indicative of the drifting seasons. It is hard to tell that summer is ending here in tropical Ischia; the weather here is always warm. Certainly warmer than Loess, he thinks with an internal sigh. king of loess minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus

I am sorry this is so late and awkward D: