08-12-2018, 08:46 AM
As he shifts his weight to lean against Kylin, the kelpie glances down at the foal again. She has finished nursing, and if the wide yawn and rapid blinking are good indicator, she'll be ready for sleep any moment. Ivar watches as the piebald girl folds her spindly legs gracelessly, collapsing into a colorful pile that soon begins to snore.
There is an absent sort of fondness in his expression when he looks back at Kylin, processing only now the question that she'd asked earlier. "A name?" He repeats. His sapphire brow wrinkles for a moment, but then he shrugs. "That's up you. I thought you might pick something with a K." Ivar can't claim to be familiar with the odd ways of the Covelings and their descendants. They have particular naming conventions and a penchant for incest - that's all the common gossip he has ever cared to know.
He moves to rest his neck across Kylin's for a moment, but he is cognizant that the recent ordeal has been even more tiring on the lavender mare than on the exhausted filly curled at their feet. Ivar had wanted to meet his daughter, but he doesn't mean to intrude on the time that Kylin will need to rest. He considers offering to stand guard as she sleeps, but recalls with a sharp clarity the reaction such concern had warranted from Isobell. Instead he traces the familiar pattern of color across her spine.
"What about Kypria?" He says suddenly, the cadence of the word appealing to him more than the meaning. "I like that, and there's a K."
@[Kylin]
There is an absent sort of fondness in his expression when he looks back at Kylin, processing only now the question that she'd asked earlier. "A name?" He repeats. His sapphire brow wrinkles for a moment, but then he shrugs. "That's up you. I thought you might pick something with a K." Ivar can't claim to be familiar with the odd ways of the Covelings and their descendants. They have particular naming conventions and a penchant for incest - that's all the common gossip he has ever cared to know.
He moves to rest his neck across Kylin's for a moment, but he is cognizant that the recent ordeal has been even more tiring on the lavender mare than on the exhausted filly curled at their feet. Ivar had wanted to meet his daughter, but he doesn't mean to intrude on the time that Kylin will need to rest. He considers offering to stand guard as she sleeps, but recalls with a sharp clarity the reaction such concern had warranted from Isobell. Instead he traces the familiar pattern of color across her spine.
"What about Kypria?" He says suddenly, the cadence of the word appealing to him more than the meaning. "I like that, and there's a K."
@[Kylin]