11-12-2017, 04:57 PM
Isobell
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
Time seems to slow here as she watches the granules of sand float like dust did in the sunlight. Isobell has stopped hiding the awe inspired by this change. Silver eyes are watching it all, drinking it all in with a savage thirst. She had not understood before but she did now and the world would never be the same.She loves the way the water bends the light from the surface and cannot help but to lift one pale hoof to the beam and watch how it dazzles the color of her scales. She wonders if Ivar is watching her and looks over her shoulder to see him not far off. There is a heat in her chest when she looks to the stallion, something that makes her never want to look away, something primal that makes her want to protect him.
They had seen so much since they had stepped into the water that fall evening. There had been the warm waters and frigid ones with ice. Coral reefs, underwater volcanos, vast darkness that threatened to swallow them up. Isobell is content with it all when by the stallion's side. It was odd to feel so complacent and calm.
The scars had long healed on her withers with the distinct mark of fangs. No scales seemed to where her skin had been damaged but the white of her withers was still beautiful and shining beneath. They have had weeks to talk, bond, intertwine beneath the waves.
The soft nudge lifts the dark lashes of her eyes -once, twice- before the silver depths are focused. She wonders briefly is she had dreamt it all but the way Ivar floated near her with very little effort, guarding her, reminds her that they are beneath the ocean's surface and are being warmer by the current. She gives him a sleepy smile before sprawling out in a full body stretch with a rather unladylike yawn. "Already?" Her voice is meant to mimic a whine but it comes out more sleepily as she notices the dark sands have replaced the pale ones from Ischia. Her limbs pull underneath her to gather water as she glides in the direction of the surface but she stops abruptly to pirouette in the water (she has gotten much better control of the water and her new body). "Are you coming, Ivar?" Where there had been a burning need to be near him, to touch him, to be cupped by his eyes, Isobell feels the small grip to see her parents and Castile. The young mare would need to explain the change and they would have to accept it for there was no going back. Small ears are lifted forward as she awaits his response, admiring the wat the water shimmered over the pearl and matte of his respective colors. There was a possessive pride in her breast that she did not realize was beginning to grow.