bottom of the deep blue sea; ivar

[Isobell]

Isobell

i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

She feels like she is floating. The combination of the music and the plentiful foods make her laugh and laugh and laugh. Isobell talks to equines if nameless faces, listening to their drunken stories, giggling at their jokes, dipping away when they become tangled in their words so she may catch a glimpse of the moonlight and quench the power ache of thirst.

Her skin is slick with sweat from dancing, her hair plastered to her brow and neck due to the late indian summer. Isobell relishes in the touch of cool breeze that soothes her as she nears a small stream far enough away so that the voices are a dull lullaby with an occasional pluck of laughter. She can hear the peep of frogs and watch as a cloud drifts lazily across the bloody harvest moon.

The witching hour is upon them.

The young mare enjoys the solitude as it slowly replaces the hum in her ears befoir she lowers her lips to the water to drink deeply. The party was not over but she was happy to take some time away. It had all been overwhelmingly wonderful but she cannot help but to look every so often over her shoulder it felt like there were eyes upon her.

The apples she had eaten earlier had made her heady, giggling to herself though nothing was particularly funny. She sighs loudly as a smile pulls at her lips, silver eyes reflecting the crimson surface of the red moon's smile. She knows she should be heading back soon before she was discovered to be missing but maybe just a few more minutes to enjoy the end of her evening was in order.

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take His first run in with the Sylvan festivities had ended satisfactorily, as had his second. Rather than sate his hunger, they seem only to have whet it. Fortunately, the multi-day celebration offers plenty of willing partners, and Ivar is satisfied long before the sun sets. Nipping the buttery yellow flank of a giggling pony, Ivar sends her on her way. There’s a faint smile on his pale mouth, and it matches the lazy contentment in his stride as he moves through the forest. She’d offered him a mouthful of an unfamiliar plant prior to their activities, and it has left a pleasant buzzing sensation in the back of his mind. His instincts are not dulled, but such recent consumption will have him relaxed for at least a few more hours. Perhaps it is Ivar’s altered state of mind, but the sudden appearance of Isobell in front of him does not stir the expected reaction. It is the same as in the spring of Loess, that unfamiliar lack of self, but Ivar is feeling good and is disinclined to pay attention to what are likely to be a type of warning alarm he’s never felt before. “Isobell,” he says with a smile, stepping forward to wrap his neck around hers in a brotherly hug. He pulls back without lingering overlong, and his gaze when he meets hers is entirely without the hunger that often lurks behind his brown eyes. “Enjoying the party?” kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis

(so for my brain's need for continuity, maybe this is before meeting gryffen?)

[Isobell]

Isobell

i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

Ivar never seems far away these days but his presence is certainly welcomed. The painted woman takes his embrace and returns with her own, pulling him tightly in a dizzy embrace that was fueled by fermented apples. "Oh Ivar...", she sighs his name dreamily as she closes her silver eyes to enjoy the warmth of his skin and the heavy scent of autumn celebration that surrounded them.

Isobell pulls back to smile up at him with a small lopsided grin. 'I never know other lands had parties!" Isobell whirls upon her hind limbs in a small pirouette as she laughs and laughs and laughs. She nearly loses her footing and falls but catches herself with a small giggle, the flop of her dark forelock falling across her eyes. She peeks up at the (rather handsome) man with a small shy smile. He looks rather lovely in the ruddy moonlight. It was odd how he seemed so appealing lately...though Isobell knows behind those lovely features there was still the same boy she had known all her life yet she does not want to fight her urges. She wants to touch her lips against his skin, to drink in his scent. She want to press her body against his and let the delightful shivers tickle her spine...

She draws a hood pace closer to him, not acting upon those hungry little urges yet though her eyes could perhaps say otherwise, instead Isobell tosses her hair from her eyes with a flick of her delicate head. 'Very much so." Her response is light and airy as it is followed by her smile, full and bright. "And you?" She retorts with her undivided attention given to him.

((sounds good! lol i totally get it.))