could i use you as a warning sign - Isobell

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take The flutter of her lashes catches his eye, and the kelpie watches her rouse herself and smile up at him. There is warmth in his chest, bright and satisfying, at the sight. He steps back to allow her room to stretch, and at her large yawn he only smiles. Isobell could make the very ugliest of expressions and Ivar would still find his mate to be the loveliest creature he has ever seen. He does not move back too far, though, for he knows that she will need him, He also knows that to offer assistance is the very worst mistake. Instead he waits, his eyes carefully glued on the horizon, as though he does not notice how she is straining herself. Let her have the impression that he thinks her perfectly capable. Yet Ivar’s expression, when she finally asks for help, is noticeable relieved. Moving behind her, Ivar lowers his head. He waits till she is ready, and at their signal he pushes against her piebald hindquarters until she is able to get to her feet. Once again, the black and white stallion is looking elsewhere. This time it is down into the sea beside them, where the seafloor drops off not six inches from the shore. A few fish are already venturing back through the water, though they cling closely to the protective shelter of the kelp forest. It might take Isobell a while to catch her balance, Ivar knows. She prefers to be seen as elegant perfection, and so Ivar allows her that. Still, he is smiling when he does look back, stepping closer to press his pale mouth against the dark slope of her cheek in greeting. “How did you sleep?” He asks her, and not a moment later, this time to the sweep of her belly where their child hides: “And you, little one, did you sleep well?” The logical part of Ivar knows that the child cannot really hear him, that his questions are at a best a distant murmur to the unborn foal. Yet he cannot help himself. Ivar does not wish to contain his excitement at the tiny thing’s existence and the intensity of the feeling he has for its mother. He hasn’t had to, not in their solitude; they are only Ivar and Isobell here, not a King and a Queen. king of loess minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus