12-24-2017, 03:47 PM
Isobell
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
Had she been gifted with the ability to read minds, Isobell would have blushed three shades of red. The mare has known desire, lust, a carnal desire for contact. She had been claimed by the kelpie king as his own despite the years of their foalhood when they were innocents among the wolves. Isobell had never known to be purely an object of beauty in another eyes.As she walked and talked, the mare pointing out the seabirds and riptides, she occasionally looked to her companion with a hopeful eyes. One hip rolls into the other as she walks steadily with the occasional bump to his own skin. "So sorry." Isobell offers the apology as the look of surprise flits over her feminine features at the contact of a man who is foreign to her. The scales slid smoothly against the taunt flesh of his masculine frame despite half expecting to hear the little -click click- of the melding of scales. This man with his pale hair and creamy skin is not the kelpie king. He is not Ivar.
A small smile blossoms slowly to her lips when the pause of her words expand a too nearly an uncomfortable size. Silver eyes move and meet his darker ones as her breath catches temporarily in her throat. She is not sure what to say next and finds that her legs have stopped, guided by their own cognition. The seabirds call in the distance for their mates as the sound of the ocean echoes int eh caves below the cliffs in which they stood.
Her heart thrums in her small chest, had the hike been that enduring? She is afraid to answer her own question. "It would be my pleasure, Isobell." Her name on his tongue is exotic. Despite the salt that dried on his skin, she can catch the faintest wisps of cinnamon and saffron. It had been some time since she had seen Ivar (nearly 6 months since he changed her) and to be alone in the presence of a man, -this man-, made her mouth suddenly forget it's purpose and her jaw to clutch tight.
She works a smile across her lips in an attempt to coax her lips to regain movement as she watches her own reflection in the steel of the stallion's own eyes. She feels small under his gaze but she is not frightened. An autumn chill pulls her muscles tight when a small shiver nearly collapses her against him. It was strange to feel the cold now despite her scales. "You've made me so happy, Grimdark. Grim?" The shortened name asked with a curling of her lips and a tilt of her head. If he should prefer the full title then she would gladly oblige but for now she is grateful to regain some control over her movements once again.