i know i'm not the center of the universe
-but you keep spinning 'round me just the same
Ivar does miss the company of other children. Sylva is quiet, full of old trees and old souls; there are no other children. Of course, it’s not yet occurred to him that siblings are even a thing; it’s always just been himself, Mom, and Dad.
Well, himself and Dad, and himself and Mom.
It doesn’t strike him as odd that the three of them do not spend time together; he has never known anything different. He is loved and safe, that is all that really matters. Ivar is equally glad to spend time with both of his parents, and he leans comfortably into the warmth of his father at his side. He doesn’t see Stillwater’s grimace at the mention of the sea. Ivar is looking out at the rippling water in front of them.
Dad asks about Nerine, and Ivar nods in response. “Yeah,” he says, “I like it there. That’s where Castile and Bristol live.” It doesn’t occur to him that his father might not know them – parents still know almost everything. “Did you know that Castile is dragonborn?” He says the word with the same sort of hushed reverence that Castile had used when he’d told Ivar of it. For a moment he’s silent, nodding to himself as he looks out at the water before turning his brown eyes back on his father.
“Oh yeah,” he says with a proud little smile on his pale face, “I’m really good too; Mom even said.” Ivar finds great pleasure in chasing down the narrow bluegill and slippery bass. He’d even caught a catfish last week!
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