10-19-2018, 06:35 AM
The brown horse is a stranger, as are most residents of the mainland. Ivar takes a moment - a long, perhaps too-long moment - to look her over, meeting her gaze only as the lightning illuminates her narrow face. He seems to be pleased with his findings (if the smile on his pale mouth is any indicator), and he gives his own name with the slightest dip of his sapphire head.
"I'm Ivar."
The wind brings with it the taste of the sea, but the kelpie finds it comes not only from the not-so-distant shore but also from the flaxen-haired mare. His head tilts, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibility as he stares - this time surely just a little too hard - at her. Her name had not been familiar, but Ivar is wary of hunting on the mainland. He'd almost taken a queen, after all, and the manhunt that would have followed would surely have routed him from his home.
Caution, he reminds himself much as she does - though the message is far different.
"I'm going to Ischia," he tells her, "I live there," and there is finally some humor in his golden eyes. They are going opposite ways, and he is clearly the one who knows the way. "I'm guessing you're new to Beqanna?" Or at least not well travelled, he supposes.
Though as he traces the faint silver hairs along her face and the dip of her mahogany back he wonders if perhaps the Beqanna she knows is the Beqanna of before. He'd been born only a few years after the Reckoning, after all, and knows there are horses that have known a world very different from his own.
no worries! i am just happy to write with you again <3
"I'm Ivar."
The wind brings with it the taste of the sea, but the kelpie finds it comes not only from the not-so-distant shore but also from the flaxen-haired mare. His head tilts, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibility as he stares - this time surely just a little too hard - at her. Her name had not been familiar, but Ivar is wary of hunting on the mainland. He'd almost taken a queen, after all, and the manhunt that would have followed would surely have routed him from his home.
Caution, he reminds himself much as she does - though the message is far different.
"I'm going to Ischia," he tells her, "I live there," and there is finally some humor in his golden eyes. They are going opposite ways, and he is clearly the one who knows the way. "I'm guessing you're new to Beqanna?" Or at least not well travelled, he supposes.
Though as he traces the faint silver hairs along her face and the dip of her mahogany back he wonders if perhaps the Beqanna she knows is the Beqanna of before. He'd been born only a few years after the Reckoning, after all, and knows there are horses that have known a world very different from his own.
no worries! i am just happy to write with you again <3