[mature] 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 Down here is where he feels at home. He had breathed fluid before he was born, and the air between then and this moment has always seemed temporary. This is where he belongs, with the press of the water against them and the current’s tug dragging at his dark hair. The sun is rising in the sky overhead, putting light to the remnants of the Sylvan Festival. It turns the water around them to dusky rose, and Isobell’s face grows brighter with each passing moment. Emerging from the pre-dawn darkness of the sea, she is the most perfect thing he has ever imagined. Her pewter eyes are darker here, but her smile is brighter. Ivar moves toward her, and his pale muzzle slides across the sleek expanse of scales. They reflect the light like an endless field of jewels, a night sky made incarnate. Her warmth in the cold sea, her heartbeat against the waves: they are intoxicating. Though he’s already done so above the water, he reexamines each inch of her reformed physique. He nibbles playfully at the back of a fetlock, a mischievous light in his warm eyes. “You understand now.” He says, a statement rather than a question. Of course she understands now. This is their now, the water. Ivar will share it with her, and in return she will belong to him. Her injured withers will heal, he knows; the saltwater is good at that. She’ll probably be marked though, a scar that will match his sharp canines and speak without words. His cheek is against her barrel, one dark ear pinned to her side. They were too late, he thinks, but the hope still lives. The rest of them were barren for him, fertile soil when he needed an open sea. Isobell though? She has potential. There is certainty to her, and that makes her priceless. More so than any of the others, she is worth protecting. Loess be damned; he’ll spend the rest of his life below the sea with Isobell. “Have you ever seen a coral reef?” He asks her, “Or an underwater volcano?” Ivar knows the answer, knows that she has spent her young lifetime in grey Nerine. He presses a soft touch to the whirl of hair scales between her eyes “There’s so much I want to show you.” kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis minimal grullo tobiano king of loess

So I saw that you were gonna do a post-ivar incident thread with iso and castile, so I figured you might want to wrap this up? If not, feel free to reply, but this would work as an ending too I think?