bottom of the deep blue sea; 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 enjoys being reminded of Isobell’s time as queen, and perhaps that is why she mentions it. He likes those memories best of all, those early experiences helping to shape his particular taste in women. For a moment he pictures her as she’d been that day she’d discovered what his bite had done to her. She’d been wide eyed and panicked, driven to seek him out by instinct. He misses the panic, sometimes. But he enjoys these fissures in her scales far more, the way they’ll swell to hold the foal inside. He cannot have them both, not with Isobell. Though he has killed her before, she remains the only creature he’d not do it a second time. That does not mean he is not tempted, of course, especially not when she bathes him in compliments. Ivar’s touch has been gentle, but as Isobell turns down to look at the beach, he nips at her hip gently. Perhaps they can repeat the night before…but no. Exploring, she suggests, and Ivar bridles the lust (for a time). “As you wish,” he says, standing up in the warm sand. Taking advantage of the four legs he now stands on, Ivar steps closer to his mate, brushing his white muzzle in the soft place just below her ear, where the scales are smaller and more sensitive.  “Where shall we go?” Ivar breathes gently against her cheek, his voice barely audible over the crash of waves. “Land, or sea?” That he offers a choice at all is indicative of his pleasant mood. Ivar rarely wears this four-legged form, far preferring the water. But sometimes Isobel does like the land, and though Ivar suspects it is a remnant of her previous life, the life before he’d made her kelpie, he allows her this small thing. @[Isobell] and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind