07-07-2018, 01:51 PM
Ivar has been to both of Kylin's childhood homes; Hyaline as well as Sylva, but the tobiano mare is not familiar with his. He'd tried to bring her here once before, but that night they had ended watching seat urtles instead. He wonders, every now and again, what might have happened if they had made it here instead.
Below him, the lavender mare climbs the steep trail, and Ivar's dark tail swishes idly against his scaled legs. From here he can almost see the glint of the distant taigan bay, or perhaps it is merely a trick of the horizon. The sun is now almost directly overhead, and Ivar is grateful for its warmth on the chilly winter day. As Kylin crests the ridge, he leans against her, both out of affection and in search of warmth.
She is taking in the view, and the kelpie takes advantage of her distraction to run his lips along the curve of her crest. She tastes of the sea still, but not of the right one. The sand still crusted in her mane is powdery with bone, not the bleached coral of their island. While Ivar knows he has promised to show Kylin the kingdom, he is truly more interested in returning home, where Kylin will be truly safe.
"What do you think?" He asks, pulling away to join her in taking in the view. He gestures to the northeast, where the red trees begin to give way to evergreen of the Taiga. "My lake is over there," he tells her, "the one where I learned to swim." He'd meant to take the trail up the mountains, but this one is shorter, and will bring them home all the sooner.
"Would you like to see it?" Ivar asks, stroking the curve of her shoulder with gentle touches of his muzzle. It would be nice to take her to the bottom, to keep here there so she might see the way the sun looks as it sets when viewed through an autumn canopy from the bottom of a lake. It's a sight quite unlike any other. He'll wait till the child is born, he decides as he steps back to press a cheek to her slowly growing belly; a drowned mother is probably not good for a developing fetus.
@[Kylin]
Below him, the lavender mare climbs the steep trail, and Ivar's dark tail swishes idly against his scaled legs. From here he can almost see the glint of the distant taigan bay, or perhaps it is merely a trick of the horizon. The sun is now almost directly overhead, and Ivar is grateful for its warmth on the chilly winter day. As Kylin crests the ridge, he leans against her, both out of affection and in search of warmth.
She is taking in the view, and the kelpie takes advantage of her distraction to run his lips along the curve of her crest. She tastes of the sea still, but not of the right one. The sand still crusted in her mane is powdery with bone, not the bleached coral of their island. While Ivar knows he has promised to show Kylin the kingdom, he is truly more interested in returning home, where Kylin will be truly safe.
"What do you think?" He asks, pulling away to join her in taking in the view. He gestures to the northeast, where the red trees begin to give way to evergreen of the Taiga. "My lake is over there," he tells her, "the one where I learned to swim." He'd meant to take the trail up the mountains, but this one is shorter, and will bring them home all the sooner.
"Would you like to see it?" Ivar asks, stroking the curve of her shoulder with gentle touches of his muzzle. It would be nice to take her to the bottom, to keep here there so she might see the way the sun looks as it sets when viewed through an autumn canopy from the bottom of a lake. It's a sight quite unlike any other. He'll wait till the child is born, he decides as he steps back to press a cheek to her slowly growing belly; a drowned mother is probably not good for a developing fetus.
@[Kylin]