07-29-2018, 04:41 PM
The sky in the east has been growing lighter for hours now, and Ivar has not missed a single shifting shade. The kelpie lingers in the mouth of the cave, his shoulder pressed against the bay mare that sleeps beside him.
He’d taken her twice more in the dim moonlight that first night. The first time was in the water, where she’d reminded him why she was a queen, and the last time was just before dawn the next morning, moments before he’d slipped beneath the slowly lapping waters, the ones that had matched the tempo of their lovemaking.
There have been other times since then, in the shadows of the Forest or the damp caves of Nerine, wherever they might not be seen. It’s a habit Ivar presses, though he has been less concerned as the months wore on. His lavender consort is round with child; she no longer leaves the shore of their island. Ivar rarely does either, finding himself more than occupied with his tropical home and the daring side of a buckskin mare that he’d never thought to see again.
Last night’s venture to Nerine had been spur of the moment, and the first in some time. Their arrangement - whatever it is - is characterized only by mutual satisfaction; this is the first time that Ivar has stayed long enough to see the sun rise. This might be the last time, at least for a while, and that awareness is what has him lingering. Soon enough he will have a child to care for, and the likelihood that he will be able to slip away unnoticed would not be worth the risk.
”Let’s do something today” He says when Wishbone has started to stir. ”Let’s go somewhere”
@[Wishbone]
He’d taken her twice more in the dim moonlight that first night. The first time was in the water, where she’d reminded him why she was a queen, and the last time was just before dawn the next morning, moments before he’d slipped beneath the slowly lapping waters, the ones that had matched the tempo of their lovemaking.
There have been other times since then, in the shadows of the Forest or the damp caves of Nerine, wherever they might not be seen. It’s a habit Ivar presses, though he has been less concerned as the months wore on. His lavender consort is round with child; she no longer leaves the shore of their island. Ivar rarely does either, finding himself more than occupied with his tropical home and the daring side of a buckskin mare that he’d never thought to see again.
Last night’s venture to Nerine had been spur of the moment, and the first in some time. Their arrangement - whatever it is - is characterized only by mutual satisfaction; this is the first time that Ivar has stayed long enough to see the sun rise. This might be the last time, at least for a while, and that awareness is what has him lingering. Soon enough he will have a child to care for, and the likelihood that he will be able to slip away unnoticed would not be worth the risk.
”Let’s do something today” He says when Wishbone has started to stir. ”Let’s go somewhere”
@[Wishbone]