09-04-2017, 08:14 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Kylin seems touched by the dangerous plight of the little turtles. Ivar had not thought to be concerned about their welfare. They lived or they died; there was nothing that he could do about it. It had even crossed his mind that if it were not for the impressive shell, that a turtle might make an excellent meal. He knows that that is not a horse thought. It has taken some time, but he can separate them now. It feels strange still: splitting himself in half. But the horse is what he should be, the horse is what will keep his promise to Kylin. (the horse won’t protect her though) That is a worry for another day. Ivar is watching Kylin, and when she thanks him, he dips his head in quiet acceptance. He had known that she would like it, and while he had not planned for the rest of the things that had happened in the interim, it seems that they would both prefer to forget them. He’d rather focus on the sea, on the way the tide is slowly creeping up the beach and brushing against their legs. Kylin does not step above the water – at least not yet – and the brown eyed stallion is already looking at her when she takes her attention from the sea. It does take him a moment to understand what she is asking, but not overlong. “The sea, you mean?” He asks for conformation, lifting up one pale hoof and pawing at the rising water. “Sometimes.” he admits. “Not as much as it used to, but sometimes.” Not as much as it had before it had taken the Taiga, he doesn’t say. Not as much as before he’d begun to associate salt water with sadness. |