11-20-2017, 11:08 PM
i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
The most direct route takes him straight north through the Riverlands and into the sea. He has not been below the water in weeks, not truly. The springs of Loess are deep and warm even in winter, but they are not freedom. Up and down on, his movement limited and constrained. They’ve been enough to take the edge off, but they were nothing compared to the ocean. Smooth and salty, the water slides against his scales as he moves, a dark figure at the bottom of the sea floor. The moon does not reach him there, and only as the water grows shallower and the point of Nerine’s peninsula rises before him does the kelpie ascend. He seems he can sense her on a supernatural level, the familiar pulse of her heartbeat is like a beacon. Only seems though, because he has been watching her on the beach, waiting for her to be alone. The crowds around her seem to never thin, especially since the beginning of spring. Ivar has waited, like he promised he would, and yet she has not come. This trip to Nerine – to find her himself – was a last resort, the actions of a frustrated man. He has his collection in Loess to pass the time, but they are only distractions. He has been waiting for Isobell.. Yet she does not seem interested in coming. Not until the sun is well and truly set is the piebald mare left in solitude. Ivar lingers in the shallows, and in the cover of a thick cloud across the moon, he climbs atop one of the many blocks of granite that litter the fine grey sand. The water drips off him as he watches Isobell quietly, his pale head tilted and his eyes so dark as to seem almost black. “Are you coming?” He asks, his voice filling the pause between the crashing of the surf. “Or have I lost you to the land?” minimal grullo tobiano king of loess |