09-24-2017, 03:09 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take She says the words so formally, long mouthfuls of descriptive sound that don’t mean anything to him at all. Equus, he catches both times. That is something like equine, right? She’s at least a little horse? The thoughts spiral inside his head in a curious whirl. He is finding it very difficult to concentrate to what she is saying, as his flicking ears hear the pulsing of Ichor’s heartbeat and he instinctively categorizes its fluttering as something (good.) Brown eyes blink slowly, catching the light that sparkles off the not-so distant water. When the golden creature tilts her head, those eyes follow the curve of her throat until they settle on something familiar. They stand out against the papery scales of her neck, something curiously familiar. The interal whisper of: (take her, take her now) stutters into silence at the revelation, and there is a noticeable rise in intensity in the way Ivar meets her gaze. It is not threatening or even embarrassing, the way he physically reacts, but it is not quite an indication of relaxation and comfort. He straightens as she does, revealing his full height and the way his mask and mantle of opalescent scales catch the light. “You have scales,” she shouts, and Ivar can’t keep in a smile. It is as bright as the sunlight off his scales, their nature of their marine dragon impossible to miss now. “But you still pass for normal enough though” She adds, and there is something not quite right in her voice. The piebald stallion has never been good at emotions, so he doesn’t pick up on the wistfulness in her tone. He answers as if it’s a question she’s directly asked him. “It’s easy when most of them don’t stand out” He says, and indeed the majority of his body is a matte black, not so different from horsehide from a distance. Even his blindingly white legs, shoulders, and face are only glistening so brightly because of his recent extended swim. Dust and grime mutes them easily, and prior to this swim it has been months since his last true swim. Equally direct as he interprets her statement as having been, Ivar asks: “Why haven’t you tried out your gills yet?” There is naked interest in his expression now, he truly wants to know. “Breathing underwater is the best.” (the best.) The leggy tobiano horse has never met anyone this much like him – only Ivar and his father were below the water. It was them and it was prey, but lately it has only been Ivar and prey. It is a lonely existence, one that he does not enjoy as he should. He’s not fully kelpie after all. Some part of him still longs for the company of a band around him. This creature, as odd as she may be, she is also (not prey. she is safe.) He is not sure why, but he is more certain of this than he has ever been of anything in his life. |