03-01-2019, 09:25 PM
His Isobell has ruled before, and the kelpie knows that she can do it again. She can certainly do so with more passion than the kelpie can muster. He’d taken it simply because it was freely available, after all. No, he remembers, free save for the small cost of taking on the granddaughter of the previous king and giving her a rank. She might be upset to lose it (he can’t claim to know the woman well enough to say for sure) but since she is already growing wide with his child for the second time he does not intend to give her much chance to be upset.
The kelpie does his best to keep the mothers of his children happy, after all.
Isobell is no exception. Giving her Ischia will surely keep her happy, just as it will surely free Ivar to pursue other – more interesting – things. He’s no intention of taking a true leave, though he might venture farther from the tropical island in the coming months. There are new lands, after all, places in Beqanna that he has never seen. Isobell will be content here, he is sure, and she might even find some of his other women to be passable companions. The idea of her meeting Wrena brings the flicker of a smile to his face just before Isobell offers him the chance to name their child.
The smile remains there in spite of what she has said. Naming a child that has not yet been born does not mesh well with the sapphire scale stallion’s superstitions. He knows better than to say as much to Isobell, who has named their three others well before they slipped into the sea. Doing so might make her pull away to question him further, and the kelpie enjoys the weight of her head resting across his shoulders and the slide of her scales against his own.
“Sverre,” he says decidedly, “if it is a boy. And Svana for a girl. Good, strong names for future leaders of Beqanna.” Though many of the realms of Beqanna are landlocked, Ivar has faith in his offspring. Giving up the sea is not a burden he is willing to accept (again) but he’s no doubt that the more diplomatic Isobell might be able to guide their children onto thrones far from the water’s edge. The idea widens the grin on his toothsome mouth, and he turns in the water to nip teasingly at the dark column of Isobell’s throat.
@[Isobell]
The kelpie does his best to keep the mothers of his children happy, after all.
Isobell is no exception. Giving her Ischia will surely keep her happy, just as it will surely free Ivar to pursue other – more interesting – things. He’s no intention of taking a true leave, though he might venture farther from the tropical island in the coming months. There are new lands, after all, places in Beqanna that he has never seen. Isobell will be content here, he is sure, and she might even find some of his other women to be passable companions. The idea of her meeting Wrena brings the flicker of a smile to his face just before Isobell offers him the chance to name their child.
The smile remains there in spite of what she has said. Naming a child that has not yet been born does not mesh well with the sapphire scale stallion’s superstitions. He knows better than to say as much to Isobell, who has named their three others well before they slipped into the sea. Doing so might make her pull away to question him further, and the kelpie enjoys the weight of her head resting across his shoulders and the slide of her scales against his own.
“Sverre,” he says decidedly, “if it is a boy. And Svana for a girl. Good, strong names for future leaders of Beqanna.” Though many of the realms of Beqanna are landlocked, Ivar has faith in his offspring. Giving up the sea is not a burden he is willing to accept (again) but he’s no doubt that the more diplomatic Isobell might be able to guide their children onto thrones far from the water’s edge. The idea widens the grin on his toothsome mouth, and he turns in the water to nip teasingly at the dark column of Isobell’s throat.
@[Isobell]