[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 Her naïve indecision he had interpreted as taunting. She was still woozy from the festivities in Sylva, and the haze in her eyes made her even easier prey, made her seem all the more sultry. He’d expected no fight from her, so for a moment he is frozen. She looks back to the rivershore, panic in her eyes for just an instant and he feels his chest tighten and…nothing. She’s moving back toward the water, and what little bit of morality he has is assuaged. The water around them is icy, and it splashes above their heads in a brackish mist. Fresh water from mountain snow mixes with briney seawater, stinging his eyes in equal parts. Every now and then he sinks entirely beneath the water. Those moments are glorious – silent and serene – all the better for the silver-eyed girl beside him. Ivar wants to spiral around her, to swim in a way that is impossible in this equine body. (damaged.) The word repeats internally and Ivar growls low in his throat, squeezing more firmly at Isobell’s crest and feeling the water at his throat grow warmer with her blood. That soothes the rage for a moment, and he remembers the black and white mare beside him. She is drifting in the water, half-propped against a large boulder that erupts from the floor of the inlet. The skin at her withers is a mess of bloody flesh, seeping freely into the water and pooling at the back of Ivar’s throat. Her eyes are dull, and he cannot tell if he can feel her heartbeat of simply the current pulling them out to sea. Ivar lets the current pull them, nudging Isobell from the rock and drifting farther out to sea. He’d not meant to kill her. At least it was her fault, he reassures himself, she’d wanted it and she’d known what she was before she’d taunted him. Ivar and his kind are not the safest choice in bedmates, but that is a given. He has never given any indication otherwise, not to Isobell, not even to Heda. Ivar has given some insight into his nature to his oldest friend, but he doubts she wants to know more. He is a monster, and he’s just another body to add to his tally. He pulls himself onto shore, and does not even turn to watch her body sink into the sea. kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis minimal grullo tobiano king of loess