10-23-2018, 07:31 AM
 I V A R promising everything i do not mean |
There are some things in the depths that Ivar avoids. Deep crevices, too-heavy shadows where the light has never taken hold. The kelpie does not lack courage, but he had ventured close enough in his more impetuous youth; he has no desire to test his mettle against true leviathans. Despite the dry air around them, something about her reminds Ivar of the sea shadows, and it stills his progress. With one hoof poised to step forward, the piebald creature tilts his head, nostrils flaring as he takes in the barnacled stranger. She is smaller than he’d thought they might be. Smaller and more female and far less frightening than he had thought a leviathan might be. Perhaps she is not one after all. “Yes,” he replies to her inquiry, his golden eyes fixed on her, but he doesn’t elaborate beyond this other than to repeat her name and offer his own in return. ”Ivar.” Skeletal and sea-soaked, the roan mare with her split face is not one he would have passed by, even if not for his suspicions of her nature. He has specific tastes, but he has never pretended they are refined. Ivar enjoys the way feathered wings look splayed on the seafloor, likes the pattern the sunlight makes on already piebald coats. The bony mare is neither of these, but she looks and smells like the embodiment of the sea. It is just a part of the sea that Ivar has skirted around most carefully due to a healthy sense of self-preservation. She looks like a woman – and he is utterly certain of it on this moonlit autumn November night – and Ivar wonders how it might be to hunt a leviathan. “Why don’t you come closer?” He asks, as though this is a mundane thing to ask a stranger on a dark night. “And see them for yourself?” |
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
@[Yidhra]
>:]